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Fever Dream
Mar. 31st, 2003 01:26 pmThe dream began in Africa. Except that was just a place for it to begin, because, somethingsomething, I couldn't get a flight, so I had to walk to Israel.
First, in a diner. Some lovely families on the run. We were in a small town, outside a smaller town, far from the large cities that were perpetually under attack. Which was good. The families were leaving Israel but I had to stay, somethingsomething, I needed to make a flight.
I walked to the smaller city, checked in at a motel.
Noticed in the ledger that Nanci Griffith (and guest, a fellow who worked in Post-Production) had stayed at the motel the night before. Pilfered their e-mail addresses and phone numbers from the ledger and retired upstairs.
Chase scene! Running in the Israeli woods! Hiding! Being shot at! Running some more! Diving into the river! Running some more! Back to the motel, where a father found his daughter!
Later, back in America. Where Nanci's husband turned out to be Presidential hopeful Howard Dean, and I invited them both to my birthday party, using the e-mail address I'd found in the ledger.
The party was being held at Cheers, the famed Boston brewhouse.
Cheers, of course, was going out of business, dead broke, and had forgotten to renew its liquor license and now couldn't afford to do so. So in a money-making scheme, we hired Lilith and Frasier as in-house psychiatrists. Nanci and Howard came. Someone stole the artwork from the wall. My friend Jodi was there.
The liquor license was renewed, Israel was liberated, and the dream ended in a tableau of me on the bar, with Nanci, Lilith, and a little old lady who turned out to be Sam Malone in disguise.
Now that that's out of my system, I'm going to work on the screenplay. And then later, punkensab ahoy!
First, in a diner. Some lovely families on the run. We were in a small town, outside a smaller town, far from the large cities that were perpetually under attack. Which was good. The families were leaving Israel but I had to stay, somethingsomething, I needed to make a flight.
I walked to the smaller city, checked in at a motel.
Noticed in the ledger that Nanci Griffith (and guest, a fellow who worked in Post-Production) had stayed at the motel the night before. Pilfered their e-mail addresses and phone numbers from the ledger and retired upstairs.
Chase scene! Running in the Israeli woods! Hiding! Being shot at! Running some more! Diving into the river! Running some more! Back to the motel, where a father found his daughter!
Later, back in America. Where Nanci's husband turned out to be Presidential hopeful Howard Dean, and I invited them both to my birthday party, using the e-mail address I'd found in the ledger.
The party was being held at Cheers, the famed Boston brewhouse.
Cheers, of course, was going out of business, dead broke, and had forgotten to renew its liquor license and now couldn't afford to do so. So in a money-making scheme, we hired Lilith and Frasier as in-house psychiatrists. Nanci and Howard came. Someone stole the artwork from the wall. My friend Jodi was there.
The liquor license was renewed, Israel was liberated, and the dream ended in a tableau of me on the bar, with Nanci, Lilith, and a little old lady who turned out to be Sam Malone in disguise.
Now that that's out of my system, I'm going to work on the screenplay. And then later, punkensab ahoy!
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