Dream #1-Friday: I was in New York City, dressed in black velvet and a big, droopy hat. I was sitting in a little cafe in the Village, listening to some cat at my table going on about how he touches fire. He was Jack Kerouac...
I took a sip of wine and looked out the window at the city and thought,
"I could live here." Kerouac continued talking, his words becoming a pleasant drone that lulled me into a state of deep contentment. A guy at the table with us dealt some cards and asked me to breathe on them. I did, and I woke up.
Dream #2-Today: I was at Frank Sinatra's house and he was getting ready for a party. I and some other people were in a smaller room, like a den, and I was showing off, singing
The Lady is a Tramp, really vamping it up, dancing a humorous bump-and-grind, and everyone was laughing. When it was over I fell back on the floor, laughing really hard, covering my eyes with my hands. Suddenly everyone stopped laughing and I looked up to see Milton Berle smiling down at me.
"
Oops," I said, and he held his hand out to help me up off of the floor.
"Not bad," he said.
"Did you ever think about getting into television?"
I rubbed my butt and replied,
"Yeah, but it burned my ass."
He burst out laughing and I woke up.
