Ulcer Averted

Hi kids.

I saw the most sparkly movie last night.

In my efforts to kill time post-work and pre-scouting-out-of-open-mic, I dropped by the recently opened IFC theater around the corner from work and watched You and Me and Everyone We Know.

This movie was... effervescent. Amazing. Beautiful. Sweet. Heartbreaking.

I don't even know what to say, other than I know that it will be stuck to me for the rest of my life.

Dare I say this... top 10?

Possibly.

I think I need to see it again. And again. And then again. And probably 100 more times after that.

It's difficult to see a movie that has a profound effect on you and to then have nobody to share it with. I went by myself. Usually I love going to movies by myself, but I was just ruined emotionally by this movie - and its not even sad - its just so... much... beautiful... and I had nowhere to put it.

D, ever indulging the Dawson's Creek moments, met me at the theater to force me to check out the open mic. I was completely unprepared, even to speak. I couldn't say anything. He had cut his own hair and I wanted to say "You cut your hair! It looks good!" but I had no words. We walked for a bit and he was talking and finally I just cut him off and screamed "I think that was one of the best movies I have ever seen! I am deeply moved. OK. Onto other things..."

We rounded the corner and briefly walked by the open mic. It was very crowded. He said "Let's go in." I said "The talent level no longer matters because even if everyone sucks as badly as I do, there's way too many people there. I couldn't play in front of that many people, even if they are all terrible. I'm getting an ulcer just standing here looking through the window."

So that's that. The demise of the Open Mic Dream.

Interestingly, the cute-ish boy from two open mics ago, the one who gave me the fabulous compliment, was sitting at the bar by himself.

I think that I may try to get to the open mic on time next week (well, not next week, because next Monday is the Madonna-thon!) just to get a seat and to listen and make friends yeah right, without any intention of playing.

Question, readers - I imagine, were I to ever play an open mic, that I'd be more comfortable playing something silly - a la Ethan Hawke or something of that nature rather than a more personal, better composed, more emo selection. Thoughts?

After the walk-by, we went on an-almost-date to an Indian restaurant and then back to D's house to watch Brain Candy, which I'd never seen.

I was plagued by nightmares last night. I don't know why. Glass of wine perhaps? Indian food? Open mic residual panic? The movie?

I kept having dreams about my mother being antagonistic towards me (don't know why - I adore my mother), about D cheating on me, about D being a general dickhead, about D's family being mean to me.

But get this! I had a dream in which I died!

Now. You're saying one of two things. You are saying:

1. You can't die in your dreams! or
2. What's the big deal? People say you can't die in your dreams but you totally can.

I always thought I'd had dreams in which I'd died, but man. I have never had a dream like this before.

I don't remember anything other that what happened right before I woke up.

I was at a party or something - a going away party? For me? I was hanging out with RR, and we were just talking, and I was backing up for some reason, and I looked at her and she had this look of horror come across her face.

Because it was a dream, I knew exactly what was going on. I was about to die. I looked at her and she mouthed "Don't..." and I mouthed "I can't..." and then my entire back went up in flames.

I could feel the heat. I felt my back getting warm and knew it was coming.

I felt pre-death emotions in a millisecond.

Like "Fuck, I can't believe this is how its happening" and "I can't believe its happening now" and "I can't believe its happening like this" and "How embarrassing for RR to see me die like this" and "I am worried that RR will be traumatized" and "How could I have been so stupid?" and "What was I supposed to do with life?" and "Did I do enough?" and "My poor parents" and "What was the point of it all anyway?" and "Did I say everything I needed to say?" and "I wish D was here with me" and "Would he even care?" and "Do I even care?"

And then it went to black and I woke up and I swear my heart had stopped. Like I shot up in bed and couldn't breathe and was gasping and afraid and surprised that I still existed.

When I woke up this morning, I said to D "Dude, I had crazy nightmares all night last night" to which he responded "Is that why you were sleeping like right here?" as he pointed to his side of the bed.

"Write them down so you don't forget," he said.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to forget."

It was really weird. I have never experienced that in a dream before. I think I've died - or at least death has been assumed or inferred - but I've never had the death-associated thoughts before. I never actually considered it beyond "Shit, I'm drowning - this is scary" or "Being buried in snow really sucks!"

This was entirely different.

I think because it was out of nowhere. No being chased, no falling off a boat, no terrorists, no giant dinosaurs lurking about waiting to devour my family. Everything was fine in the dream and then bam! Taken by surprise and its all gone.

Today I am thinking about death and thinking "What's the big deal?" Like if I walked outside and someone held a gun to my head and I had a millisecond in real life, what would I think? I'd probably think "That sort of sucks," but beyond that, really, is it that scary to not exist?

This is so morbid. I'm not even in a bad mood. I'm just thinking about it, because I never thought I'd be afraid to die until this dream last night. I guess I've just had death on the brain lately. People dying. People responding or not responding to people dying. Grief is such a personal thing. Nobody experiences it the same way, and I bet actually dying is the same way.

OK. Stop being morbid!!!

I'm going to clean my apartment tonight. I was hoping to do it this weekend, but I am not going to be in NYC this weekend. So now I have only one night at home to do everything I wanted to do tonight, Friday night, and Saturday and Sunday. Slightly stressed. Sometimes I think I am not very good at living my life, but whatever. It's not going to kill me to stay up really late mopping.

It's just that I need sleep. Lots of it. To compensate for nightmares.

Incidentally - this really weird but funny thing happened this morning.

At like 6am I awoke and D was smothering me! He totally was! I was like "Dude! WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!" and he was like "To block out the light... to block out the light..." and I was like "What are you doing?" and he was trying to put this like blindfold on me. I'm not kidding. One of those blindfoldmaskthings people use to sleep with, to block out light. "No, wear it..." he kept saying and I was like "Stop! PLEASE!" because I had woken up from a dead sleep and really thought he was trying to kill me with it.

When I woke up, I was convinced that it hadn't happened and that it had been another nightmare, until I saw the mask on the floor.

He was like "Dude, what was that all about?"

"Why are you asking me? You're the one who was trying to kill me with that mask for no reason."

He said "You were complaining about the light."

"Me? What?"

"You were complaining about the light so I was trying to help."

"No I wasn't."

"You were."

"No I wasn't. You woke me up out of a dead sleep. I thought you were trying to kill me."

"I was trying to help you."

"If you say so. You're the one who talks in your sleep. Are you sure I was actually talking and you didn't just imagine it?"

"You were talking."

I should have said "Why didn't you just hand it to me if I was asking for help?" or "Why didn't you ask me if I wanted it?" or "Why on earth do you even have that?"

I don't know. I was having a lot of nightmares and didn't sleep soundly, but data suggest that it is D and not yours truly who experiences insanity while sleeping - he'll be having an entire conversation with me while he sleeps. And he'll insist I said something.

For example, the other morning I got up to get a glass of water and when I returned he said "What's theoretical?" I was like "What?" He said "You just said it was theoretical. What is?" "No, I just got here." "No, you just said..." "No, dude, I wasn't even here. Just go back to sleep" and then he'll be asleep instantly.

So I sort of think he imagined the whole thing.

But seriously. Weird.

Which is why I need to get lots of sleep tonight and possibly not mop because mopping is probably not more important than that extra 20 minutes of sleeping.

OK.

Until tomorrow...