Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)
Although I tend not to remember my dreams, I’ve had a few over the past couple of weeks that stand out. Last night’s dream had me and Randy traveling to Montreal for a long weekend. While there, we ran into my old boss (from over a decade ago) who was starting up a new match-making company.
He asked that I help him test out some sample matches to see if he really is capable of picking out the right guy. Before you yell at me for cheating, I want to stress that my old boss, Randy, and I all had a conversation about this prior to my agreeing to participate. I would just meet the guys on a first date to have dinner and conversation and find out whether we did, in fact, have similar interests.
Unfortunately, the first (and only) guy he matched me with was a complete lunatic. Think Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. Randy and I ended up having to hide out until we could escape Montreal in the dark of night. Meanwhile, I was rathe let down that I didn’t get to explore a museum that I’d visited in a previous trip.
Of course, I now realize that the museum in question doesn’t actually exist in Montreal…or anywhere in the world, for that matter. It was a museum that i’d visited in a previous dream…kinda of like deja vu in a dream instead of reality.
Trippy.
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Hey Karl, I want some of whatever you are having before you go to bed. LOL Strange dreams
Hmm….I’m intrigued by this museum-of-your -dreams…do elaborate!
I found the museum quite spectacular. It was located in a dense city neighborhood. The building was nearly a block long and located at the top of a hill. The side facing the street was nearly all glass and, to be honest, I don’t recall any of the art…I was more impressed with the structure and the views it offered of the city (which, in my dreams was much larger than the actual city of Montreal).
I’m a freak.
I dunno…sounds pretty cool to me – I don’t think it’s your architectural tastes that make you a freak, buddy (grin).
Maybe you shouldl be doing something with your architectural inklings instead of huddled in an office reading about them! or dreaming about them.
I second that Randy
I frequently remember my dreams, and they are usually very strange, and occasionally dirty.
Dirty is good.