May 1, 1999 It's almost gone, but what is left is a memory of vacuuming Todd's new house, which had beautiful new carpet. I was vacuuming around the edges close to the walls, and vacuuming up lots of nails and screws and other small construction debris, and feeling guilty that I hadn't taken care of it earlier, and hoping that he wouldn't notice. May 8, 1999 Dreamed I came in to work one day, sat down at my desk, and was trying to use my computer, but everything was changed. I finally realized that someone had switched my wheel-mouse for an old, regular mouse, and I had to go find mine and switch them back. And then I noticed that my wallpaper and all the icons on my computer had been changed. When I realized it, I stood up and said, "Who's changed my computer to all flowers?? FLOWERS! I would never have flowers!" K. said she had done it--changed it to a Maxfield Parrish theme--because she thought I'd like it, or at least that I wouldn't object. I said well, I didn't like it and would be changing it back immediately. Then the new salesman held up a proposal that I had prepared and said that as far as he was concerned, it wasn't ready to be distributed. I said of course it isn't, it isn't finished yet, where did you get it? He wouldn't tell me, he just kept saying it wasn't ready for publication yet. I decided to ignore him and go on with my work. But there was something wrong with the footrest under my desk. I couldn't get it aligned properly. And there was a footpedal for a dictating system under there, too, and I couldn't remember if I needed that for anything. Then I suddenly realized that I'd been so busy all day I hadn't even checked email, so I went to do that, but before I could, I got a phone call from M. And while I was on the phone, Matt came out and was looking for his Frank Sinatra CD (!), and I saw it on K.'s desk. She said she'd borrowed it and didn't think he'd mind. The CD itself wasn't in the case, though, and no one knew where it was. Then she said she didn't like it anyway. She was playing her music so loud (not Frank Sinatra) that I was thinking I was going to have to either quit or get a better pair of earplugs. Then I opened the mail and found a cool gadget--a little credit-card sized calculator that gave you HTML color information. You entered in the hex numbers and it gave you the color name and showed the color. Even in the dream I realized that this was backwards--normally you would have the color and want to know the hex. Still, it was a cool gadget, and there were four of them in the package, so I could hand them out to everyone. May 8, 1999 Then I was somewhere where there was going to be a wedding. The bride and groom are sitting, fully dressed for the wedding, on a big four poster bed, waiting for it to be time to leave. Someone comes in with a letter about the groom, something about a real estate scam or something, that is so bad that everyone knows the wedding shouldn't go ahead. But no one is saying anything. The bride's mother is in the kitchen cooking something, standing over the stove stirring something and crying. I finally went over to the bride because, although I really didn't know her well, I felt someone should say something to her, and no one was. I went over and put my arm around her shoulders and told her that she didn't have to marry him if she didn't want to. She said there was no chance of that. There was an older man there who had some connection with some news bureau, and he was telling someone how to call them and find out more about the situation. I went over and hugged him, and he was holding a cat, which he handed to me. I couldn't tell what cat it was--my eyes wouldn't focus enough to see it--but I could tell by the skinny tail that it was Misty's cat Mucha. I said, "Is this Mucha?" while holding and petting her. I was pretty sure, but I still couldn't tell. At some point I realized that although I had changed my clothes after we realized there would be no wedding, I still had my jewelry on. I felt like I must look ridiculous. So I took off big gold earrings, big square ones, and saw that I had neglected to take the labels off of them. As I peeled off the labels, the gold coating on the earrings came off, too. I immediately planned to take them back, but couldn't remember if I'd kept the receipt. May 15, 1999 I was talking to Mike on ICQ when someone came to the door who wantd to talk to me about someone that was going to be on Saturday Night Live. It was someone that Mike knew, I thought, so I asked if I should call him. I started looking around for his phone number, then realized I could just ICQ him. So I did, but he didn't answer. I send another message. "Are you there?" I ask. Then they say they want me on the show. I can't imagine what they'll have me do. They haven't had me rehearse anything, so I figure it can't be anything too complicated. I practice saying, "Live, from New York, it's Saturday Night Live!" anyway. I'm hoping I won't have to do very much. I'm wondering if I should call everyone and tell them to watch, or just hope that they don't. I have to stay in a specific hotel while I'm waiting for it to be time to do the show; the hotel is $150 a night, and I'm grateful that I didn't find out earlier, because then I would have had to stay there longer. As it is, I'll only have to stay one night. The show is taped in an old building, and I walk by the stage door, which is up a few steps, and wonder if that's where I'll go in. It feels very strange, because I still don't know what they want me to do. May 18, 1999 I'm talking with one of the lawyers I used to work for, and he's pointing out something on a document that I did wrong when I worked for him. I say, "Why didn't you tell me about this then?" and he says, "I thought you were too stupid to understand it." I say, "Fuck you, I don't work for you anymore!" and I kick him in the ankle. It should have felt cathartic, but it just felt upsetting, as if I was screaming at someone who refused to hear or understand me. Last Month | Next Month Home | Journal | Archives | Notification | Random | Resources Webcam | Dreams | Mood Swings | Tea Leaves | Forum | Natterwick Books | Music | Reflections | Guestbook | Postcards | Bio | Search Copyright © 1999 Willa G. Cline