Bad At Apologies

Last night I fell into a deep sleep, and I dreamed I was on a rickety old San Francisco MUNI train from the 80s that took me far from the city, over hill and dale to a different, bigger city that seemed strange yet so familiar, with a giant "WELCOME" sculpture I remembered from my childhood. And on the train was Mel Tormé, and I introduced myself and told him how much I enjoyed seeing him at Seattle's Bumbershoot festival in 1995, when he was on a triple-bill with the Ramones and Mudhoney. (That part is actually true.) We talked about that for a while (the Ramones were "nice boys," said Mel), and chatted about the Mel-Tones and whatnot. In our realm, Mel has been dead for several years, but this fact did not seem to be at play on the dream train. A few rows back, I spotted Hal Hartley who was cornered by a chatty woman who had no idea who he was but "loved the movie biz". I wanted to introduce myself to Hal (who was literally 8-9 feet tall) but he already seemed quite annoyed by the chatty lady. Hartley got off the train at this big college arts amphitheatre, and I tried to get off the train there in order to strike up a casual conversation with Hal, but I forgot my bag, got back on the train to grab it and before I knew it we were miles away, down a steep embankment and on a long, seemingly abandoned highway. I got off the train there, hoping to catch one going back the way I came, but the trains that came were headed every which way, to places I'd never heard of, and I couldn't find the stop and for that matter had no money for the fare.

Later I somehow ended up in Colorado at a Bob Newhart celebrity-charity kids' ski-lodge (in July!) where Diddy and Jamie Foxx entertained needy children who were advised not to touch anything or go anywhere. Eventually I grew bored of this lameness and caught a ride back to this big theatre where I inadvertently offended Tom Smothers (who was giving a sparsely-attended talk entitled "Ronald Reagan and the current crisis in the Middle East", delivered entirely in Hebrew.) In the wings I also bumped in to Marcia Wallace who asked me and shoombala "Do you two have a kid in this play?" I said 'not yet'. Marcia and I chatted, and I was about to walk away when I realized how great she'd be as the school secretary in my movie, so I offered her the part on the spot. She accepted. Then I woke up.

Also, and this is neither here nor there, it occurs to me that "Prince Rogers Nelson" is not just a proper name but a pivotal private moment in British naval history.