Grey, grey, grey
Sep. 9th, 2004 09:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blodeueddNote to self: The Life of Brian, Bytowne, Saturday at 4:50.
What a gloomy day! My eyes feel droopy.
I had a food and reading dream, where the book played itself out like a movie and half the time I think I was part of the story, but only as a bystander. To begin with, I was in a hotel room with other girls, possibly it was a ballet thing -- no, it was something different, but there were lots of people. There was a girl of about 8 or 9 who followed me, worried because she'd hear that supper was going to be something she disliked -- that's what I get for reading Coraline before falling asleep! The food, when it came, looked quite good. Now I was outside, it looked like someone's cottage, sitting at a picnic table. There was tabouli, a beef stew, what looked like sauerkraut but wasn't, made with blindingly white cabbage and pieces of camouflaged chicken, as well as what looked like stewed vegetables. I had a book with me, which I was reading in spite of there being other people at the table, which my mother always told me was impolite.
The story was about a man (tall, in his thirties or forties) whose job was teaching ballroom dancing, but it was more like a hobby, as he didn't do it full time. He also had something to do with the music industry, either composing or promoting, perhaps. But now, he was trying to solve a mystery! I can't remember what it was, only that a woman or two from his past were somehow involved. He was going to someone's house to ask some questions when up the tree-shaded lane came a Middle Eastern or Indian couple he hadn't expected to see. The woman wanted to take dance lessons from him, you see, but for some reason he had refused. Now, she and her husband were laughing and teasing him, telling him that in their home country, his latest CD came with bonus tracks that weren't available anywhere else and would he like a copy? He declined, stiffly, wondering how he could get rid of them so he could get on with what he was doing. At this point it becomes confused because I was sitting at the table, reading, but at the same time seeing the action from where I was standing at the bottom of the lane, all the while waking up to the sound of heavy, steady rain.
What a gloomy day! My eyes feel droopy.
I had a food and reading dream, where the book played itself out like a movie and half the time I think I was part of the story, but only as a bystander. To begin with, I was in a hotel room with other girls, possibly it was a ballet thing -- no, it was something different, but there were lots of people. There was a girl of about 8 or 9 who followed me, worried because she'd hear that supper was going to be something she disliked -- that's what I get for reading Coraline before falling asleep! The food, when it came, looked quite good. Now I was outside, it looked like someone's cottage, sitting at a picnic table. There was tabouli, a beef stew, what looked like sauerkraut but wasn't, made with blindingly white cabbage and pieces of camouflaged chicken, as well as what looked like stewed vegetables. I had a book with me, which I was reading in spite of there being other people at the table, which my mother always told me was impolite.
The story was about a man (tall, in his thirties or forties) whose job was teaching ballroom dancing, but it was more like a hobby, as he didn't do it full time. He also had something to do with the music industry, either composing or promoting, perhaps. But now, he was trying to solve a mystery! I can't remember what it was, only that a woman or two from his past were somehow involved. He was going to someone's house to ask some questions when up the tree-shaded lane came a Middle Eastern or Indian couple he hadn't expected to see. The woman wanted to take dance lessons from him, you see, but for some reason he had refused. Now, she and her husband were laughing and teasing him, telling him that in their home country, his latest CD came with bonus tracks that weren't available anywhere else and would he like a copy? He declined, stiffly, wondering how he could get rid of them so he could get on with what he was doing. At this point it becomes confused because I was sitting at the table, reading, but at the same time seeing the action from where I was standing at the bottom of the lane, all the while waking up to the sound of heavy, steady rain.
