Seriously, I can't get over my dreams sometimes. Nights I don't dream I think are wasted. Last night had all the best elements of the subconscious all together. I dreamed I had a brother named Joseph who was either 7 or 10 years younger than me, but for some reason I always just forgot about his existence. Then all of a sudden I would remember and say something like, "Oh yeah! Joseph. Does he still live with us? When was he born again?" and then they'd have to remind me where his bedroom was.
So that was part one, which was far surpassed in awesome wish-it-was-realness by part two. In part two, I believe I was aimlessly wandering around some town with my good friend Katie, looking for kicks and then realizing we were standing in front of the Tom Waits mansion/estate. So of course, we decide to go in...never really figured out if it was just a big home or a museum tour type thing. At any rate, Katie goes first but doesn't have much to say; I just build up butterflies waiting to meet the man. When I get in, I'm not sure what to say, but ol' Tom is waiting in a wooden chair and everything is old and rusty-silky like him. I maybe call him "Mr. Waits." When we get to conversing, the talk moves to recipes for things and Mr. Waits decides that he'd like to give me some old recipe cards that I might like. He looks around in some closets and cupboards but all he can scrounge up are some old family photos, not necessarily his family, but all sepia and solemn. I scoop them up in a big pile and thank him and go out to meet Katie again.
Part three: there was this cat, a small hairy tabby that was just ALL OVER ME. I used a lint brush after.
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