Love and scandal are the best sweeteners of tea. —Henry Fielding

10 September 2011

Craziest Dreams

I am trying to get to a birthday party for my friend Tito. I'm in Brooklyn, I think, though Tito lives in Long Beach, CA.
And I have these six eggs in a paper bag and they're more fragile than regular eggs, and Tito needs the eggs, and I want to get them to him before the birthday dinner at P.F. Chang's (dear lord why is his birthday party at P.F. Chang's?) so I'm trying to get to his apartment.

I must be driving, but maybe I'm driving my dad's car, and I'm in a parking lot and I get stuck doing some family thing where I have to drive some distant cousins of mine somewhere. There are runny noses and someone crying and there might be a small infant. And I am really frustrated because I am just trying to get to Tito's and I accidentally break one of the eggs or maybe one of my family members breaks the egg.

And when we finally drop them off at some baseball field or something in a park I am miffed because they sort-of don't say thank you or anything; they just get up and leave the car. They are angry at each other or something like that and they are not thinking of me and my need to get to Tito's.

Of course, I am not really sure why I can't give Tito the eggs at the restaurant (such as it is), but the urgency of trying to get the eggs to Tito's begins to really overwhelm me. And now my dad is driving the car, but he's going really slowly and I am getting frustrated with him, but he is telling jokes and being funny and not trying to be annoying he just is. We finally get to the car. (I guess we must've been in dad's car and the car we needed to get to was mine?? I have no idea.) And I rush to Tito's. I make it in time. I see him. I show him the broken egg. We chat. I say goodbye because we all have to get ready for the party.

But I had left the other five eggs in the brown bag in the car beneath my seat. It was all for nothing.

My other dream last night involved my aunt (who is now deceased) becoming a really hot sixty-year old woman, wearing spandex and lots of jewelry like she was from South Miami. And we were having these parties at her house where we were meeting all sorts of family. I must've been in a bad mood because the first time I met this transwoman who was introduced as someone's girlfriend, I wasn't as friendly as I could've been, and she was already nervous so I wasn't really helping things (and what is the point of being LGBT if we don't really create solidarity between L, G, B, and T people?). 

There are more parties at this house. There is this strange black man with a wig. He introduces himself to me. We shake hands and then he introduces his girlfriend: this same transwoman whose name I have obviously forgotten. He makes a very big deal about how to be polite I should say her name out loud. She kindly reminds me of her name and I hold her hand for a very long time and tell her I won't forget it. Her hands are incredibly soft. We speak for a little bit.

At some point during all of this I end up in a small shower/tub with two other people. My friend Michael F. might have been one of them. I think we are actually showering, but there is a problem with the water. It is being blocked by feathers. They are somehow falling down from the wall into the path of the stream of water. Everyone makes a point of giving me a towel with a frog on it (or maybe it's just green).

I have forgotten the transwoman's name this morning. Sigh.