Fast, semi-celeb dream recap...

My night of sleep was dissected in any number of ways by a puking lamblet... my reality and dream state converged at any number of points, but these two stood out as definite dreams.

In one dream, I was staying at my niece's. Her cell phone rang and she was nowhere to be seen so I answered it. I'm not sure why I did. The voice at the other end was hushed and spewed out a bunch of covert info. I realized it was a game she was playing... some version of "Telephone". I was to pass on the name of this person, the name of the person she was supposed to call, the name of the locale where everyone was to meet and the password. I got the password right... it was troubadour.

As for the name of the caller, the person to be called and the locale of where everyone should show up? Well, when I looked down at my paper full of notes, I realized I had not written any numbers... just names... names that could either be real names or Chicago street names. I thought the person who called was Grant, but on second thought, perhaps the meeting place was on Grand. I had also scrawled Paulina and Roscoe...

The dream venue then shifted to a large building that had a bowling alley in it, an old parish hall perhaps... It was after hours and was dark, I'm not sure why we were in there, but we were... with Steve Martin, who was apparently, a good friend. He challenged me to a bowl-off. It was one shot. Whoever got the most pins with one shot could have whatever they wanted. I was game, but realized I didn't have a ball. Steve was kind enough to direct me to a tiered shelving unit in the middle of the floor that contained all kinds of balls... except they weren't... they were every object you could imagine, all with bowling ball holes drilled into them. I remember looking at a teapot and thinking it might work if it were heavy enough. It could be like curling. There was another round object which turned out to be a derby. It would never have enough weight to get to the end...

I don't think I ever chose an object and if I recall, Steve somehow found an actual bowling ball, a orange marbled one. I also couldn't think of what to ask for if I won. The dream was soon interrupted by sick lamblet calls for, "Mom!"

I'm guessing at that point, had I won, I would have asked for more sleep...

Update- it just dawned on me that a derby hat is also a bowler... egads...

Comments

[Joe]

Steve Martin is forever calling me in the middle of night to challenge me to a bowl-off. Maybe he'll leave me alone and start bothering you from now on.

[Snag]

When she's feeling better, ask her if she was lovesick. Kids love that sort of humor.

[Jennifer]

Different lamblet, Snag.

[Dan Leo]

I'm experiencing dream-envy! The last one I had featured an unfunny version of Mr. Bookman, the library cop from "Seinfeld", coming into my joint and telling me that I wasn't allowed to let the woman I live with use my version of iWorks for the new Mac she's getting -- "It's illegal!"

Jeezus...

[Brando]

I kept yelling into the phone, "Wake up, Jennifer," but you just kept saying "troubadour" and asking if I had a ball you could use.

Hope the lamblet feels better.

[Jennifer]

Joe- I'm glad I could help.

Dan- I hate those "rule" dreams.

Brando- LOL!!!!!!!

[Kathleen Maher]

Dream on.

[Scott]

your complete recollection has always amazed me, and still frightens me. Would the teapot fit in the Kenya bag?

[Jennifer]

KM- Oh yeah. I will.

Scott- Oh you know it would! FYI- it was a 3-sided pot and taller than the average pot. It would have fit in with no problem.