Weirdest dream. Writing it down -- yes, I slept in late -- before I forget - even before I get my morning workout in.
I was at Joni Mitchell's and she was living like a hippie -- which is not Joni. And her house was falling apart, water was leaking everywhere -- it was raining in places outside. The house was a dog run that turned constantly, corner upon corner. The corners made it an actual maze but we never reached the center.
Every piece of clothing was laid out. It was as though James Taylor had built the house. (The home Carly lives in today was built by James and, when he first built it, he didn't include closets. A sign of how much he had to hide and how deeply he wanted to be found out. But we won't waste our time talking about his hang ups, back to the dream.)
In the dream, I had three kids -- none of which, in real life, are mine -- and, in real life, I have two -- they were all boys and young. The youngest, I had to carry around my hip constantly.
I kept saying things to them like "You can be whatever you want to be" (good) "because your whole lives are ahead of you" (also good) "but I'll be dead within a year" (why would you tell a child that?).
Joni was out on the deck that never-ended and ran completely around this constantly turning, never-ending home. She was entertaining a group of about 100. Most of whom stayed close to Joni because the sun was directly over her, no matter where she moved, while, in other spots, rain either sprinkled or poured down.
Joni needed Tab. Not for herself but for one annoying guest who kept insisting that she must have Tab. I said I'd go get it just to shut the woman up. So that's why the kids and I are going through the house. We're looking for their shoes or any shoes they can wear. So we're constantly stopping to go through these tables where clothes and shoes have been laid out. These are those folding tables a caterer might use and they are in every room.
We're walking and walking looking for shoes.
We don't stop, we keep walking, even as my teeth keep falling out. My two oldest boys are apparently used to it but it freaks the youngest, the one I'm carrying on my hip, out.
I keep telling him it's okay and "perfectly normal." And five or so seconds after one tooth drops out, a new one pops in -- and the new one is always bigger than the one it replaced, to the point that, at the point I actually woke up, my teeth had become bigger than even Jimmy Carter's teeth.
Right before that we'd finally found two pairs of boys shoes and, since the youngest was being carried by me, that was enough. He could go barefoot since he wasn't walking. So we needed to go to the store but first had to trudge down Joni's driveway which was a mile of brown Mercedes (I do get that, a metaphor for LA in the seventies), bumper to bumper.
And that's when I woke up.
I usually keep paper and pen near the bed so I can write things down if something pops into my mind but I didn't have any so I grabbed the small laptop. In the 14 years of this site, I don't think I've jotted down any dreams (weird or otherwise), so I'll share that.
