Dream date: One of those days you try and forget about.
Dream: I’m staring at myself. So many Mes. I guess it gets weird, waking up in a dream surrounded by yourself, but whatever. The Mes don’t care. They’re floating in clouds. Two of the clouds are shaped like feelings. I make eye contact with one young me, the kid with the 'fro pick who I think is dancing but dunno for sure because the people in my dreams are usually dancing. Check that pout. We talked but didn't use our mouths. He cried—but I've cried, I told him, and we were in the clouds so the water wouldn't even go to waste.
Analysis: I hate that they're all calling it "album art" and not a mirror.
Dream date: Sept. 13, 2013
Dream: Versailles. A crowd of people swarms beneath my balcony, teetering on high heels like sleepy giraffes. Their long red manes obscure any sense of face, but bejeweled hands clutch gleaming DVD cases: The Parent Trap. Mean Girls. Get a Clue. They're stomping on something on the ground. I look closer. Tomatoes. Are the tomatoes real? I never know.
They’re chanting the same syllable over and over again, the sound rising up to me like a song: “O.”
Analysis: No more TV before bed.
Dream date: Tomorrow
Dream: All my friends are with me. We’re drinking. I’m wearing that suit, that one I really like, with the black/ grey/ white gingham underneath. Anderson keeps complimenting me. “Oh, Andy,” I keep saying when I catch him staring too long. He winks. I think it’s the gingham. I wink! I didn’t know I knew how! There’s this one chair in my living room that I’ve always hated but Desmond (Tutu) gave it to me last year and I try and just push it off to the side and anyway no one is even having to sit in it because I think we’re actually in front of an audience? Everything anyone says is so funny and of course I laugh but I’m drunk and I’m not the only one. Everyone is drunk and laughing. Joel Stein came back, I don’t know why, but he's happy to serve drinks all night without a tip.
Analysis: Tune in tonight for me & Jhumpa (Lahiri), talking cocktails and the latest for Teresa. #goodlife #teamAndy #mazel #livingthedream
Previously: Volume II
Dream date: November, 2028
Dream: I’ve followed Elle into Zara. She’s laughing, and salespeople fawn at the slightest toss of her long, silky blonde hair. She tries on a big, floppy hat—just like the hat I wore on the cover of Teen Vogue that one time—and she makes that pouty, doe-eyed face she made in Super 8, the same face she made in Somewhere. I wrap myself inside the rack of kimono robes and peer at her with eyes I once used to convey intense emotional pain befitting my award-nominated role as an abused trailer child in Hounddog. Elle sorts through rack after rack of pale, chiffony blouses and lifts one particularly translucent one up to the light. The hanger uncurls itself into a giant metal snake and twists its boa cords around Elle’s untalented neck.
Analysis: I’m just so happy for everything my sister’s been able to accomplish in such a short career. I’ve had so many years to deepen my skill-set, so it’s miraculous—and really just a delight—that Elle has been able to achieve so much in such a relatively brief period of time. I’m beyond proud of her, just as any sister would be.
Dream date: Yesterday
Dream: Diane is there and she has a question she keeps asking me. But Scarlett and Penelope are mud wrestling. Diane follows me into the wrestling parlor, still asking that question. Scarlett grabs Penelope by the hair, and Penelope’s face is smushed deep into the mud and Scarlett asks, “Like this, Woody?” But Diane won’t stop with that question. That question has chased me into this other room. She grabs me by the shoulder: “Is Mira coming for tea?” I turn around abruptly. “Who’s Mia?” I say.
Analysis: Lucia, my intern, tells me that the reviews are very good for this newest picture. Cate Blanchett just texted me a smiley face. Lucia tells me that it is actually pronounced “emoe-gee.”
Dream date: 32 DAYS TO SEPTEMBER ISSUE
Dream: I dreamed I was a salad, one of those big kind of horrible ones with dressing. Croutons crunching. Wontons wilting. Oil and vinegar oozing down the side, I think? Grace was wanting to eat me. I kind of liked it.
Analysis: Fire the salad girl.
Previously: Volume I
Photo via cwagsphoto/flickr.
Dream date: Feb. 23, 2013
Dream: There’s a stage, lit in blue and slowly revolving above a multitude of smiling angels. There’s a piano, and I’m suddenly beside it. A song finds its way into my throat, and as I wail, I stare down at the angels’ faces. One of them beams up at me. She looks like Gwyneth Paltrow, but sleek and pale and small. Hi, Gwyneth! Diamonds glitter on my neck and my hand lifts itself, queen-like. Me, just a poor West London gal with a broken heart, waving and singing to a crowd of clamoring angels?
Analysis: “Adele, I think that was the Oscars.”
Dream date: July 13, 2013
Dream: A dark glen. Babbling brook. Men in plaid. Doing work that matters. Telling stories! A woman! She was carrying cider. She smiled at me and then spilled some cider on my shoes and tried to speak and I hushed her with my mouth. Hush, girl. The other men were restless, needing cider; the woman clung to me and wept. Distantly, I heard the sound of the Internet and was terrified.
Analysis: Have to remember to get wine for The Newsroom premiere party. (Have to remember to tell Emily, Alison, and Olivia that there “isn’t a party.”)
Dream date: June 14, 2013 (*~B-DAY!!~*)
Dream: We’re upstairs. I hear Khloe and Kim fighting at the dinner table. Kanye is naked. I’m naked. We’re naked. “Black Skinhead” is playing and it sounds like Kenny G.
Analysis: Really #excited to be a #grandma!!!!!!
Photo via cwagsphoto/flickr.