I dreamt a couple of nights ago I was in an empty, very modern, sterile white house at night among some small jagged desert hills. There was no furniture, only very stark lines of charcoal shadow and pale blue light on the walls.
I needed to use the bathroom, but opening the door I found a sort of swamp diorama resembling a cross between Skull Island in the original King Kong and Degobah. I could sense various small creatures in there, among them a fat lizard vaguely like Bill from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, a long limbed frog I knew to be poisonous, and a band of five tiny humans on an expedition. I knew also that there was a large and terrible creature of indeterminate shape and size in the darkness intent on devouring the creatures. I needed the light to save them, but I could only flip it on at quick intervals because I knew the creature would then see his prey and zero in. I only managed to save the frog and the lizard before I was forced to flee.
To-day's been dry, draining, and frustrating. After only three hours of sleep, I awoke to the sound of a cat crying in terror upstairs because my grandmother had hired a creepy bearded man who listens to Rush Limbaugh to paint my aunt's room. Lucky the cat slunk quickly into my room and under my bed, and Victoria followed soon after. She didn't seem to know where to go, so I put her in my closet. Unfortunately, I had to leave for the Thursday maid thing, and when I returned I found Victoria gone.
Fortunately, when my aunt came home, we found Victoria crying, trapped in a room upstairs.
And I stink. I hate going out during the day--it's amazing what a little sunlight does. I did get a chance to visit Marty, though. We discussed the modern Spanish speaking director triumvirate of Guillermo del Toro, Pedro Almodovar, and Alfonso Cuaron, but he couldn't help me in my quest to find The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, which I've been trying to track down for two days so I can read sovay's post about the film. I had it in my hand not a week ago, but foolishly rationalised that I might buy two DVDs for the same price as an invariably expensive Criterion DVD. Yesterday, that copy was no longer on the shelf, and I've since been unable to find it at three stores. So I ordered it off Amazon--a used copy ten dollars cheaper than the normal price but now it'll be at least a week . . .
Fuck, I'm tired. And irritable. No reason to be as angry as I am, except all my senses feel muffled. Fuckity fuck.