Archive for the ‘Dream a little Dream’ Category


More Nocturnal Conversation

June 20, 2011

So this happened last night, and I have no memory of it. According to the awesome guy I share a bed with:

I rolled over in my sleep and my pinky finger hit your face and you went AARAOOAAOOOOOAAHAHGHAARGH!! I apologized and you were like “you need to be more careful in your sleep” and I was like “how can I be more anything when I’m asleep, I’m asleep” and you said “zzZZzZZzZZzz.”

I’m really looking forward to his dramatic re-enactment of this, so I can find out how some of these things are pronounced.

Also, hi! Thanks for sticking around.


More late night muttering

February 8, 2010

It was evidently a good week for Mace dreams. First, in my sleep, I drove to Portland in a car made of a mattress (seriously, pretty much a mattress with wheels and a steering wheel) to housesit for my friends Bob and Irina, but when I finally got there (after sliding backwards down some steep hills while kids on skateboards laughed at me), they decided not to go on their trip to Sweden because there was no snow there. Yep.

This weekend, the following interchange took place (I have no recollection of this):
Me: Uh Oh
T: What’s wrong, honey?
M: I’m worried that during all these costume changes, someone’s going to get hurt.
T: What’s your favorite costume?
M: (giggling) When we’re naked.
T: Well, I’m sure everyone will be fine.
M: Well okay then.


These dreams…

August 18, 2009

So this morning, I was going to interview David Bowie. But we were going to have the interview at an old bus stop, with a Victorian looking lamp and lovely wooden benches. David Bowie arrives on a very small vehicle that was travelling down tracks that looked like they hadn’t been used in decades. He has with him a woman I don’t recognize, and Jeremy Piven. They decide that this location is too dark and cold to do the interview, and we were discussing other locations when I woke up.

1. Why was I going to interview David Bowie? I have no affiliations or reasons to do so.
2. Why did David Bowie’s entourage include Jeremy Piven? Is it just because of the word Entourage?
3. How awesome is it that David Bowie has his own track-based form of travel?


I wish this was real.

April 3, 2009

This morning, I had a dream of tiny golden keyboards hidden inside sewing machines. Your chat was instantly embroidered.


As long as I’m awake.

March 2, 2009

It was a strange weekend.

Don’t get me wrong, it was also a weekend filled with complete and total awesome. There was checking out the newly turned over Triple Crown, hearing vinyl for the first time in ages, and FINALLY stepping into Martuni’s, which has vaulted to possibly my favorite bar in SF. I want a permanent place in a dark corner with Daniel, where we can drink divine beverages and be catty together.

But later that evening, after a tipsy meal at Sauce and a cab ride home*, I was troubled with strange dreams. I don’t remember a thing, but according to Trevor, I was mumbling about “getting all the sand off me.” I awoke drenched in sweat, and without even thinking, got in the shower. It wasn’t until I was  standing under the water that I realized I had no idea what I was doing there, or what time it was, or anything. I dried off, put on pajamas, and got back in bed. It was three in the morning. My only response with regards to the events was “it made sense at the time.”

And off to Stockton/Sacramento I went. There are certain people I just don’t see as often as I’d like, and sometimes organizing semi-special events is warranted. So I shook my ass with two of my favorite people: Tina and Katy (and Katy’s awesome friend Rob). I went to two places I’d never been, the Mercantile and Badlands (Sac), and I’m already trying to figure out a time to go back. Which brings up an interesting question: why do I have to drive 100+ miles to go dancing? Why don’t I ever go dancing here, in the city? I have no idea.

Alas, the joy of the weekend was soured by this morning. It’s my own fault; if I hadn’t hit snooze, I wouldn’t have had this dream. But Trevor and I were supposed to get married, but he kept finding excuse after excuse about why we couldn’t do it. First it was because it was raining, and then because the tide was too high**.  Eventually it came down to him playing on a laptop while I tried to talk to him about it. He was completely disinterested, and that’s when I realized it wasn’t happening and I had to leave. I woke up more than a little upset. Luckily Trevor was actually there to calm me down. But this is the second dream I’ve had about weddings in the last two weeks (though the other wasn’t mine), and the second dream I’ve had about Trevor and I breaking up in the last week.

I’ve read a lot about dreams. Some think it’s our brains working things out, some think it’s just recycling information, some think it has no bearing on our actual lives at all. I’m not sure what I think. All I know is that my dream brain wants to get married and be clean doing it.

* I officially love cabs now. I used to hate them. I was WRONG.
** When we discussed this later, it came to light that neither of us has any interest in getting married outside.


On Recent Dreams

January 19, 2009

I have no idea what my brain is trying to tell me. If I were to subscribe to the belief that dreams are more than random flashes of brain activity.

Two nights ago: I was heading to Pilates class, except that the studio was now in the midst of some really nice rocks, right next to the ocean. And the studio was made of mostly glass, so one could enjoy some very nice views. As I walked in, I saw my dance teacher (who does not teach Pilates) run through the lobby in a full ballerina outfit, complete with tutu. She ran into a room with a bunch of other similarly dressed, and they were evidently having a meeting. I decided to run to the bathroom before class. There was a line, and I noticed that no one was going on a particular stall. Liat, who was in line ahead of me, said that people didn’t like to use that stall because it wasn’t very private. I didn’t feel like waiting, so I pushed in.
And was immediately confronted with a set of stairs. I walked up the stairs, and at the top was a toilet in a glass box, on top of a rock. The view was amazing, but I could also see hikers playing on the rocks and kids in the surf, which I guess meant they could see me, too. But I didn’t care. I did my business and headed back down.
The Pilates class was packed. As in, everyone’s mats were crammed in Tetris style. My dance teacher (again) comes in and starts the class, but it’s not Pilates, it’s some exercise where we lay down on the mat, then jump up and start jumping up and down. Then on the mat again. I was very confused, and worried about injury from those around me.


More Nightime Adventures

July 14, 2008

I had a dream where I bought some chocolate and vanilla swirl frozen yogurt and put strawberries on it. Seriously, that was the whole dream. I guess the big drama point was that the lady put it on a cone instead of a bowl, but corrected it when I pointed it out. FASCINATING.

However, earlier that same night, when Trevor turned out the light in my bedroom, the following exchange took place:
Me: Baby, it sure is dark in here.
Trevor: I turned off the light.
M: Well, I guess I shouldn’t have canceled my subscription to Poop Magazine then.
T: … What?
M: It made sense in my head.

He tells me this over dinner the next day and I laugh so hard I cry for at least five minutes and the wait staff looks a little panicked.