Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Get out of my head Louise....

I’m now at an all time personal low for dream stress, last night I dreamt Louise Gluck was sitting across from me eating soup. I was on the other side of the wooden table with my manuscript going over every line. She didn’t talk the whole time and just kept staring at me, eating her soup. This dream went on ALL night. I kept waking up saying get out of my head Louise and at about 3 am I said it so loudly I almost woke up the girls. Do you any idea how embarrassing it is to have the screaming one does in their sleep be about syntax? All I know is, I will never watch someone eat soup the same way again. Lord now I need a nap.

8 comments:

C. Dale said...

I once dreamt that John Ashbery sat across from me on a couch staring at me. It was scary. He wouldn't stop staring! As for Gluck eating soup, I find this strangely hilarious.

LKD said...

What kind of soup? I imagine a steaming hot bowl of clear broth. Did she blow on the spoon to cool it or gulp it down hot? Did she slurp?

I wish I'd dream about Louise. You know how much I love her.

I've only ever dreamt of one famous person. In my 20's, I dreamt that I was in a bookstore and John Lennon walked up to me and smiled, pointed to a big book on the bottom shelf and asked: Didn't you write that? I pulled the book from the shelf and my name was on the spine. The title was: Everything. He said he would buy it and took it out of my hands. We chatted pleasantly as we walked toward one of those glass elevators. He asked if I was going down, and yes, I was. We got in and he lit up a ______ and we got ______. (edited because I'm at work)

What's the title of your book, Laurel? Oh.....Everything. (grin)

And this was years before I went back to school and started writing poetry again. (I think it was a novel....)

Lyle Daggett said...

I once had a long elaborate dream, with many things going on, and toward the end of the dream I was trying to leave a large building (for whatever obscure reason). At the bottom of a flight of stairs I opened a door and Jack Webb was standing there in his Joe Friday persona from "Dragnet." He immediately pulled out his gun and shot me. Then I was lying in the back of a wagon, like a plague victim, waiting to be hauled away. Then I woke up.

Ana Bozicevic-Bowling said...

Gluck isn't exempt from dreaming other poets either. What about that poem of hers where she dreams Kunitz reading in a room by himself & an acorn rolls in under the door?

early hours of sky said...

________!!!Hope that doesnt mean I am going to marry Gluck. Okay I might be up for it but we'd have to date first.

It was clear broth Laurel, you nailed it. And I want a book called "Everything"

C.D. I am wondering if you think in real life Ashbery would like your work? I mean, I know ppl I respect who like my poems but I dont dream of them. I dream of the soup lady.

And Lyle, those Dragnet boys use to scare me as a child.

Pirooz M. Kalayeh said...

I had a dream about Yoko. She told me I needed to get together with Sean. We could make some music together.

Then I looked down at my hands. There was this glowing ball there. When I held it I could fly.

I remember thinking as I was flying around, "I wish there was a basketball court around. I could really kick my ass."

Now the funny thing is I met Sean a couple months later. We chatted. Then my brother ran into him in New York and now here in L.A. Each time he mentioned me Sean remembered.

Now they have hung out several times.

I wonder if I will make music with him one day. Wouldn't that be weirder.

Anyway, I want to know what John said to C. Dale. I like that one on one. It's perfect.

Laurel fill in the blanks!

T--She will accept that manuscript. Get it to her.

LKD said...

Pirooz: We lit up a Christmas tree and got all pricked and sticky after hanging the ornaments. (grin)

Last night I dreamt I was an apprentice to a hitman. An eager apprentice. The hitman was Chaz Palmieri. Howzat for typecasting? (I mean me, apprenticing to be a hitman, ha ha)

Hitman. Not hitwoman. Not hitperson. Nope, the ever so unfeminist hitman.

Laurel, if you ever grow up, what do you want to be? A hitman, mommy.

(I'll blog about this, I think, because I just realized what the dream means...I watched an episode, don't laugh, of Getting Made (is that what it's called?) on MTV yesterday and it definitely spoke to me. It said: Laurel, you're 41 damned years old. What the hell do you wanna be when you grow up?)

CassieLove said...

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