Dream: Favoo
Here's a charming dream I just woke up from: I just dreamed that I was going to Nashville to find my friend Carianne, to try and get a play script from her and say goodbye before she moved away (which is at least, in part, based on a real situation I'm in right now). So I went to find her, and on my way there the situation got sort of increasingly more desperate (although I could never figure out if I was making it so in my own head, or if it was getting worse for real). I kept thinking up all these things I was going to say when I got there and they were all just increasingly more strange and, again, desperate. I knew she was backstage of a play from 9 PM to 11 PM and I had to get there before she got out. But by the time I'd got there she had sort of transmografied into someone else - a celebrity who was in town, and who I just had to see.
I wound up at a baseball game, which ended up being the equivalent of this play, and before it ended (at 11 PM) I ran backstage looking for the restroom. This turned out to also be Nicole Kidman's dressing room (?!). And who should I bump into but Nicole Kidman, who was really nasty, thinking I was an autograph-seeker, and said all sorts of terribly harsh things to me. And then her Asian dresser (?!?!) came out and was even nastier. Finally, the celebrity I'd been trying to find arrived, and she realized I was just who I said I was.
And then I became Lucille Ball. A very drunk Lucille Ball.
I staggered back through the now-gathering crowd around this dressing room door, ranting off different lines in a very drunk way (I think I was counting backwards the rules of fashion, or something similar). Anyway, I finally got to the end of the crowd, grabbed Fred Mertz by the collar, and shouted, "And don't forget to cut the favoo, Lars! Cut the favoo!"
...Then I woke up.
.
.
.
Now perhaps someone could tell me what "favoo" is...
I wound up at a baseball game, which ended up being the equivalent of this play, and before it ended (at 11 PM) I ran backstage looking for the restroom. This turned out to also be Nicole Kidman's dressing room (?!). And who should I bump into but Nicole Kidman, who was really nasty, thinking I was an autograph-seeker, and said all sorts of terribly harsh things to me. And then her Asian dresser (?!?!) came out and was even nastier. Finally, the celebrity I'd been trying to find arrived, and she realized I was just who I said I was.
And then I became Lucille Ball. A very drunk Lucille Ball.
I staggered back through the now-gathering crowd around this dressing room door, ranting off different lines in a very drunk way (I think I was counting backwards the rules of fashion, or something similar). Anyway, I finally got to the end of the crowd, grabbed Fred Mertz by the collar, and shouted, "And don't forget to cut the favoo, Lars! Cut the favoo!"
...Then I woke up.
.
.
.
Now perhaps someone could tell me what "favoo" is...