Weird dreams
Apr. 19th, 2004 02:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pixiecrinkleSaturday night:
I was in a large suburban prefab type home, with lots of wood paneling. There was a group of people that was supposed to be my family, but they weren't my real life family. American Idol (which I've seen a grand total of once IRL) was on TV. I was, apparently, a famous singer, and was supposed to go on tour shortly, but I was having terrible wrist pain, and was trying to figure out how to tell my managers I couldn't go on. I was wearing weird black wrist braces that were like super thick wristbands.
So the manager and agent show up, and they are mobsters. They are not pleased when I tell them I can't perform, and they order me and the whole "family" to the back of the house to the kitchen. We all fear we're going to be shot. There are two dogs there, an enormous rottweiler, and a golden retriever. I decide that I could tour and sing, if someone else could play guitar for me. At this point, I look in a mirror and realize I am Jewel (but somehow in the dream, I actually think, "Hey weird, I'm Jewel!). I track down one of the mobsters, and tell him this, but he points to the TV and says that the American Idol contestant currently performing was my understudy and will be taking over for me. She is dancing around in an outfit that wouldn't even be allowed on Fox, and this infuriates me. I am walking back to the kitchen swinging my arms and accidentally bump the golden retriever on the nose. Both dogs then try to pin me to the floor and everyone was trying to get them off me when I woke up.
Sunday night:
I was on a plane, reading Vogue, reading about a hotel & spa in Paris, where I was apparently being sent for work, to go talk to a French retirement fund about their website. Next thing I know, I've checked in to the hotel, and have made an all day appointment at the spa. I get my haircut, by a woman with severe scars from her thumbs to halfway up her forearms. She explains that they are from carpal tunnel surgery, and I will need to hold my head in an odd way to compensate for her wrists. She gives me a haircut, then waxes my eyebrows and cheeks(?). She tries to convince me to wax my eyebrows all the way off, but I won't go that far, and she does leave a tiny tiny line. Somehow, she also gives me mutton chop sideburns, which she indicates I can just shave off later. For some reason, this didn't strike me as all that odd in the dream.
I leave the salon, but it's taking an incredibly long time to run my credit card, and I can hear the modem/fax sound coming from the machine. I attribute this to the fact that I can't use my American Express if I'm not "in America" and try to give her a new card, but the girl insists on trying again and again. I explain to them, in French, how little French I actually speak. (And, if my recollection is correct, I actually did this correctly.) At this point, two guys from our Investments department here at work show up, and have similar credit card problems. We are chatting about why we are in Paris, and it is determined that I flew in on Friday and will fly out on Sunday for a quick meeting. They are arriving on Saturday for a Wednesday meeting and are just hanging out in the meantime. I get really upset with them for wasting public money and leave. Then I woke up.
I was in a large suburban prefab type home, with lots of wood paneling. There was a group of people that was supposed to be my family, but they weren't my real life family. American Idol (which I've seen a grand total of once IRL) was on TV. I was, apparently, a famous singer, and was supposed to go on tour shortly, but I was having terrible wrist pain, and was trying to figure out how to tell my managers I couldn't go on. I was wearing weird black wrist braces that were like super thick wristbands.
So the manager and agent show up, and they are mobsters. They are not pleased when I tell them I can't perform, and they order me and the whole "family" to the back of the house to the kitchen. We all fear we're going to be shot. There are two dogs there, an enormous rottweiler, and a golden retriever. I decide that I could tour and sing, if someone else could play guitar for me. At this point, I look in a mirror and realize I am Jewel (but somehow in the dream, I actually think, "Hey weird, I'm Jewel!). I track down one of the mobsters, and tell him this, but he points to the TV and says that the American Idol contestant currently performing was my understudy and will be taking over for me. She is dancing around in an outfit that wouldn't even be allowed on Fox, and this infuriates me. I am walking back to the kitchen swinging my arms and accidentally bump the golden retriever on the nose. Both dogs then try to pin me to the floor and everyone was trying to get them off me when I woke up.
Sunday night:
I was on a plane, reading Vogue, reading about a hotel & spa in Paris, where I was apparently being sent for work, to go talk to a French retirement fund about their website. Next thing I know, I've checked in to the hotel, and have made an all day appointment at the spa. I get my haircut, by a woman with severe scars from her thumbs to halfway up her forearms. She explains that they are from carpal tunnel surgery, and I will need to hold my head in an odd way to compensate for her wrists. She gives me a haircut, then waxes my eyebrows and cheeks(?). She tries to convince me to wax my eyebrows all the way off, but I won't go that far, and she does leave a tiny tiny line. Somehow, she also gives me mutton chop sideburns, which she indicates I can just shave off later. For some reason, this didn't strike me as all that odd in the dream.
I leave the salon, but it's taking an incredibly long time to run my credit card, and I can hear the modem/fax sound coming from the machine. I attribute this to the fact that I can't use my American Express if I'm not "in America" and try to give her a new card, but the girl insists on trying again and again. I explain to them, in French, how little French I actually speak. (And, if my recollection is correct, I actually did this correctly.) At this point, two guys from our Investments department here at work show up, and have similar credit card problems. We are chatting about why we are in Paris, and it is determined that I flew in on Friday and will fly out on Sunday for a quick meeting. They are arriving on Saturday for a Wednesday meeting and are just hanging out in the meantime. I get really upset with them for wasting public money and leave. Then I woke up.
