kindasean

the dream made less sense as it happened.

it took me from a boat to a silent auction that featured Marcel Marceau as the ringleader--and we bid exclusively on items that neither laughed nor spoke, watching each other struggle in silence to express their amusement and excitement over Mickey Mantle's stuffed teddy bear from when he was 7, and J.F.K.'s boyhood sled.

dissolve to:

scrambling thru the most gigantic house in the universe w/close to a million rooms and only a half bathroom obviously w/no shower so we all smelled of feet and latex as we run up and down stairs thru massive ballrooms full of balloons with Pee Wee Herman's face painted on them sporting his schoolgirl smile at the moon.

there was not nearly enough water to survive.

we--those behind me that I recognized clearly in the moment, but cannot recall for the life of me now--reached a great balcony, presumably the one where Abe Lincoln took one in the head, yet we couldn't see out because the curtain was closed. for some reason this presented a real problem, as none of us thought to simply push the curtain aside. i was curious as to what was on the other side.

it could be anything.

the Cowardly Lion even.

god, i fucking hope so.

but there was a light that snuck out under the bottom, and after deliberations, two of us ventured close and up under to sneak a peek and we found ourselves overlooking an empty theatre except for the giant man who sat with his legs hanging over eight rows of seats and he was laughing at an empty screen.

i guess this is symbolic. of what tho?

*shakes head*

i woke up needing water.