Paul Addis is hosting SNL. He has a lot of comedy chops, but it’s still a rough show.
Exploring the far west side of Palm Springs, near where I grew up, huddled around the side of the mountain, a building from the 1700s — something similar to the 16th century fort of Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, Florida.
A group of us are studying at the end of a trail up a tall mountain. I end up the last one studying at the waist-high workbenches. Once the instructor/monitor (my 10th grade English teacher Ms. Roos?) brings this to my attention, I leave and say hi to Sherilyn sitting in a small cubby-like room off to the side of the exit, wearing fishnets, perhaps working as a librarian.
Shortly thereafter I’m asked to get something off a high shelf — on the trail — and I’m “caught” by my landlord, who has a ponytail. No clue why he’d be upset by that, but that sounds like him.
Even further down, there’s a very steep, conical icy slope. As I slide down the crunchy snow, I relate to someone the posted warnings I saw about “Karen”, a trans lady in our [dreamt] social group who perpetrated some property destruction before she got it together and become trans.
I notice my facial hair in a mirror. The left side of my face is shaved into a goatee and sideburns, while the right is still a beard. And looking up, my hair has a wide ¼ off-center stripe shaved out to match, with my long hair hanging over on either side. It looks pretty stylish, but I think I couldn’t pull it off in real life on account of short side hairs.
A therapist ends up detained because she refuses to admit whether a client has been to Bremen, or is Bremen — this WWI story is known as BremenX. I find myself surprised and grateful that a therapist would selflessly protect a client like that.
In a communal sitting room with beige-walled booths, I look in the mirror mounted on the righthand side and catch the friendly eye of two ladies also waiting there. Perhaps we are using the ovens, baking pie. It’s clear to me the mirror was installed at the angle it was for just this purpose. I’ve been hanging about for a long time, and I’ve noticed an abundance of redheads with elaborate spirally hair-does that remind me of this bug:
https://twitter.com/cassiegrimaldi/status/912796613575364609
There’s some (red?) minivan a friend of mine is driving, and it’s creeping slowly toward the freeway on-ramp adjacent to the community bakery. If I can catch it, I pull off a great sex joke. But, having to cross a barrier and get across a few lanes, I ju-u-u-u-u-ust miss it. Then I’m first in line for the on-ramp, though, and I get low to the gravelly road and turn on rocket boosters (not something I’ve really used before) to catch up. They’re shite for hill-climbing, though, and when I encounter a sudden left curve after a steep hill with zero banking, my SR-71 Blackbird (which is where I kept the rockets, apparently) goes careening off the ribbon of dirt into the galactic space through which it wends.
A demonstration: the dynamically resized livery of a train, attractive top-to-bottom color gradients (splendidly coordinated along the length of the train, with occasional repeats). It’s a coal-fired steam train, even. As one reduces the number of cars it collapses into only a single cowboy-soldier pumping a handcar bearing a square American flag.
My family has re-acquired our Kemper Court house where I grew up. In the wall between the stained-glass entryway and the kitchen nook there’s now a rectangular hole just big enough to slip through on one’s back. As I peek through, I note how strange it feels to live there again after it belonged to someone else for so long.
Standing on a hilltop gazing reverently at a snow-covered mountain, kin to Mount San Jacinto in the Coachella Valley. A mirror on a long handle held at arm’s length, revealing another mountain far behind me — holy mountains at opposing ends of the valley where I stand.
I relate this dream to Brian when he, apropos of nothing, called me up to his balcony to view Mt. St. Helens on this clear autumn day. When the view isn’t blocked, one can see Mt. Hood, also.