I just saw myself in the mirror. Today, with the way I am dressed and my hair not being cut for a while, I look like I should be in a ski lodge in 1974, drinking a cup of hot cocoa.

I was going through old emails today and I found this one describing a dream I had:

I also had a dream that my dad was the president and I saved him from an assassination attempt. At the end of the dream, Earth got invaded by this giant cartoon alien. It was wacked.

I don't remember this dream at all, but how cool of a dream is that? I guess, in the end, I was a failure, being that Earth eventually got invaded. Perhaps my dad was the failure because he was the president, and it seemed like there was a lot of turmoil during his term. he probably yelled at the enitre country for leaving their bikes in the driveway. Or perhaps his refusal to get a hearing aid finally frustrated one of his aids, and they decided to take him out.

This often happens where I write to someone about a dream, then when I read it again, I think, Not only do I not remember that dream, I don't even remember writing that email. This happens to me fairly often. My memory is not very ... um, what's the word? Good. It's not good.

I've been having more and more dreams about work. That's annoying. I'm here enough. Get out of my dreams and into my car! I still have dreams about school. Nightmares, really. The kind where you forgot to go to class all semester, then all of the sudden you have to go and take a final or something. I hate those. I've occasionally had "The Actor's Nightmare", where you are on stage, but don't know any lines, or have the slightest idea what's going on.

I had a dream the other night where I was interviewing Andy Kaufman, but he was older, yet still dead. He was talking about how the cancer killed him and how people thought he was joking about it. He looked good. He put on some weight. He seemed happy.

I dream a little too much about death and destruction. I really need to hang out with more puppies.

When I was in college, I could never sleep at night. There were many many nights of staying up and staring at nothing, or watching episodes of the Simpsons over and over again. But once the daytime hit, I'd be all about sleeping. There was this one night before my birthday, when I was up all night writing a paper. I finished it just before class and handed it in, which was the normal way for me to operate in college. Procrastination.

So after my class, I went back to my apartment and fell asleep. It was now my birthday and I had to rest up for the festivities of the evening. I think I was in a play that night. Anyway, in my sleep, I had a dream where my mother died. So I am very sad in the dream. Then I hear, in the dream, someone calling my name. I keep hearing it and then I wake up and I realize it was my roommate, Jim, trying to wake me up, because I have a phone call. So now I wake up, thinking my mom is dead. Here was the conversation:

Jim: Mike.

Me (thinking I am now motherless): Wha? Huh?

Jim (handing me the phone): Phone. It's your mom.

Me: What?! Hello?

Mom: Happy birthday!

Me: Holy shit. I just had a dream you died.

Mom: OoooK. I'm alive! Happy birthday!


It was a nice birthday to have my mom not be dead. Those are the best birthdays!