EnDorffins
I don't know what's going to end this current bout of insomnia for me. Yesterday morning I got up early and went to the gym; after that I met my sister for lunch in Greenwich and we went for a walk in Greenwich Park (which is very hilly, so lots of walking uphill - we even went to the Observatory) afterwards, so my legs were well and truly tired out; then I had a doctor's appointment, a quick bit of grocery shopping and after dinner I went off to bowling. And still it was nearly 3am before I finally managed to fall asleep, and a restless sleep at that. By the morning I can't get out of bed, it's ridiculous. I mean I've always had problems with sleeping but usually it sorts itself out after a couple of weeks, this is well over a month now. Anyway, restless sleep means dreams, and once again completely random celebrity cameos. (Stephen Dorff? When was the last time I remembered he existed when I was awake?)
I dreamed I was at the flat in Athens where I grew up. We were on the 2nd Floor (am I right in thinking Americans would call that the 3rd Floor? As in, they call the Ground Floor the 1st Floor?) The buzzer went twice in quick succession and someone must have let the visitors in, as I went to the front door of the flat to wait for them to come up. The first lot were coming up the stairs and as they came round the staircase I could see that they were two men, one of them a very drunk Stephen Dorff with no shirt on. He must have let himself go a bit though because it turns out I also wasn't wearing a shirt, and although I felt embarrassed I remember thinking at least it wasn't as bad as if I was there with someone who looked spectacularly fit. You can still tell it was a dream though because I've been going to the gym for nearly a year and a half now and I'm still nowhere near the point where I'd open the door with no shirt on. Dorff never actually got as far as my floor though, as when he saw me he said something like "no, he can't be my brother, he's too young!" and had to be helped back downstairs by his friend, whose identity I didn't know but who I think was also an actor, possibly someone who was in Trainspotting. Actually it would make sense if it was Jonny Lee Miller because I'm seeing him on stage soon and as Penny is thinking of coming to see Frankenstein too we talked about it yesterday; I was saying how I feel vaguely sorry for Jonny Lee Miller being the only person to marry Angelina Jolie and have nobody give a shit.
Next up there was a section that seemed to last forever, in which I attempted to send a tweet from my phone about what had just happened. But despite having mentally composed the perfect 140-character way to say that Stephen Dorff was looking for a long-lost brother, had thought it might be me but it turned out not to be, every time I started texting this it would turn into something else. This seemed to happen over and over, dozens of times, I'd try to start the text again and after a couple of words would be writing about something else. Then the second people who'd rung the buzzer arrived, this time by the lift; they were a load of fat women (probably more than would actually fit in the lift) who were trying to sell something. I told them we weren't interested and they left. Yeah, I guess I'd used up my quota of surrrealism by then.
Oh well. On-theme, here is a spectacularly NSFW (don't say I didn't warn you) gif of Stephen Dorff:
I dreamed I was at the flat in Athens where I grew up. We were on the 2nd Floor (am I right in thinking Americans would call that the 3rd Floor? As in, they call the Ground Floor the 1st Floor?) The buzzer went twice in quick succession and someone must have let the visitors in, as I went to the front door of the flat to wait for them to come up. The first lot were coming up the stairs and as they came round the staircase I could see that they were two men, one of them a very drunk Stephen Dorff with no shirt on. He must have let himself go a bit though because it turns out I also wasn't wearing a shirt, and although I felt embarrassed I remember thinking at least it wasn't as bad as if I was there with someone who looked spectacularly fit. You can still tell it was a dream though because I've been going to the gym for nearly a year and a half now and I'm still nowhere near the point where I'd open the door with no shirt on. Dorff never actually got as far as my floor though, as when he saw me he said something like "no, he can't be my brother, he's too young!" and had to be helped back downstairs by his friend, whose identity I didn't know but who I think was also an actor, possibly someone who was in Trainspotting. Actually it would make sense if it was Jonny Lee Miller because I'm seeing him on stage soon and as Penny is thinking of coming to see Frankenstein too we talked about it yesterday; I was saying how I feel vaguely sorry for Jonny Lee Miller being the only person to marry Angelina Jolie and have nobody give a shit.
Next up there was a section that seemed to last forever, in which I attempted to send a tweet from my phone about what had just happened. But despite having mentally composed the perfect 140-character way to say that Stephen Dorff was looking for a long-lost brother, had thought it might be me but it turned out not to be, every time I started texting this it would turn into something else. This seemed to happen over and over, dozens of times, I'd try to start the text again and after a couple of words would be writing about something else. Then the second people who'd rung the buzzer arrived, this time by the lift; they were a load of fat women (probably more than would actually fit in the lift) who were trying to sell something. I told them we weren't interested and they left. Yeah, I guess I'd used up my quota of surrrealism by then.
Oh well. On-theme, here is a spectacularly NSFW (don't say I didn't warn you) gif of Stephen Dorff: