my dream last night:

i am a reporter, a hollywood reporter. i am sophisticated and park-avenue. i travel through swamps and backwoods to come to the shanty shack of a newly-established male movie star. he invites me in to his home for dinner.

the table is a plank of bowed plywood on top of two wooden construction horses set up in the middle of the livingroom with tin plates and mis-matched silverware. the windows are dusty and cracked and leak a piss-colored early evening light on the scene. i take my place on his right, on an old couch �and he sits in a crooked armchair at the head of the table. his dowdy and cautious wife eyes me as she serves some boiled ham, peas and tater-tots around. i smile at her and interview her husband. she serves around ginger ale to her husband and i in two glass champagne glasses. this is quite the special occasion.

i drop my glass�it hits the corner of the plywood and smashes everywhere. i am horrified at this, breaking one of the few nice things they had. i pick up a piece, and see that these were the champagne glasses from their wedding. i trip over words trying to apologize, but not too much as to insult them.

the roles he tends to play in movies are that of a high-class politician or businessman�all suited and power. here, at home, he wears a suspender jumper (only on one shoulder) and goes bare-chested�not even sporting a wife-beater for dinner. i am intimidated a little by my surroundings, but his friendly and well-mannered attitude eases my nerves.

we talk about his movies and future movies that he is currently working on�all of them huge money-makers�people love this man on the screen, they cannot get enough.

i watch everything i say, i try not to insult, but i let it slip that perhaps he can buy himself a house when the money comes in. this idea seems ludicrous to them, for they are happy here, like this. i bump the table and his champagne glass falls and cracks. he is able to salvage part of the cup of the glass, edged with shards, with half of the stem to hold onto. there is also some ginger ale left in the cup. he hands this to me and motions for me to drink. i put it to my lips, cutting them, and swallow down the shard-filled ale mixed with my own blood.

and a dream from a few nights ago:

i am in some sort of shopping mall, very industrial and dark though�much gun metal grey and dull chrome. i am in a store with a tiny elevator going up to the ceiling from the middle � dumb-waiter size, and encased in metal and glass. this elevator is attached to a display case.

i am waiting here in this place, this store, in anticipation, for i have planted a carrot. this carrot is particularly rare and special and�huge, almost a yard in length. i planted it in the display case, pointing down.

i hear a rumbling, a deep-in-the-ground noise�and a small tunnel shoots forward, a �feeler� or �seeker� tunnel containing a tentacle and appearing much like the buggsbunnytunnels through the dirt, but through metal and glass. the �seeker� finds the carrot and is quickly followed by a much larger � under metal and glass � tunnel. the carrot, cleverly located in the glass display case, lures the amazing creature out into full view.

the animal believes itself to be concealed in the case, for it is blind (thusly the �feeler� tentacles)�and cannot see me watching it. It is five feet tall and three wide � a � mammal, � robotic creation with two foot long bunny teeth and foot long digging claws.

these creatures are rare and i am in awe watching its secret carrot rite. the rabbit creature is praying in millions of languages at once, only some of these languages are from earth. it is the most beautiful sound i have ever heard. as it prays before the carrot it is close, but not actually touching... it absorbs it � the carrot slowly turning and disappearing as if a popular chunk of gyro meat.

this animal is sick and i can hear loud whirring sounds coming from it as it finishes its ritual. it moves slower and finally stops, still surrounded by the glass case. i open the case and open the rabbit�s back, exposing a long �U� shaped filter that needs to be replaced (looking much like a sooty tunnel when turned with the slit facing the ground.)

i have one at home! i lock the glass case, protecting the creature and run for the life of the creature and my own, for i seem to be being chased by secret service agents who chase after me in little fast mechanical wheelchairs.

eeep!