Dammit, I think I need some serious psychological help or to drink more. Something! I'm losing it (if I ever had it to begin with!)
Last night I had another dream about the Big O. Of course, it didn't start out that way. It never does.
I dreamed that I was at work getting ready to make product. I was wearning a Tshirt and jeans. I had just put on my steel toed boots and safety glasses and was putting my hair up when I looked at the refrigerator in the lab. The magnetic poetry board said "this is a dream".
I thought about it for a minute and I'm like "fuck working if this is a dream - I wanna talk to Orlando. He's got some 'splaining to do!"
I walk out the back door and down the hall to the lobby. One of my co-workers is sitting there and I say, "where's Orlando at? I need to talk to him!" She points to a staircase that has mysteriously appeared in the middle of the lobby.
Down the stairs I go and I end up in this room. It's very nice. Someone's house I think. There's a full bar and leather couches and the Big O is sitting on the couch talking to some dude who's standing near the bar holding a drink.
They both turn and look at me when I walk in. The dude with the drink gives me this look of disgust and snorts. I give him the despised look. Hey, asshole, I'm what makes this country run, not your pompous ass! Get over yourself!
The Big O just smiles and motions me over to him. I sit down on the couch next to him, glaring at Mr. Asshole with the drink. Orally's been smoking again and it's stronger than the scent of his cologne.
They continue talking - about work. What movie is getting released when. I understand but I'm not interested in the least. Doesn't matter squat to me. Besides, if I'm sitting next to the Big O I sure ain't gonna give a damn whether he's talking or not.
I smell him and rub my cheek against his. He has a slight stubble and his skin isn't healthy looking. I frown. I don't like this. He needs to take better care of himself. He's very thin and looks tired. He's dressed in a dark suit with a tie and I get the impression that he and the asshole are getting ready to go somewhere "important" - like to an interview or appearance or something.
I watch him closely. He needs to take a break. He's looking rough and tired and run down. He's going to get sick if he doesn't watch out. I feel almost guilty about being mad at him, but not guilty enough to let it slide.
The asshole goes to the bar and I say to the Big O, "She's not good for you, sweetie. You really need to get a grip on yourself."
He smiles at me (kinda sad) and says, "I wouldn't believe what you hear. You don't avoid Steve, do you?"
"No," I admit. "I like Steve. I love Steve. I just can't give him what he wants or needs. OK. I understand if that's how it is."
"And that's how it is," he assures me.
The asshole comes out from behind the bar and Orally stands up. I grab his hand. I don't want him to leave.
"It's time to go," the jerk says.
I pull the Big O back toward me and kiss him. He laughs. "I wondered when you were going to kiss me," he says.
I giggle then kiss him again. And he kisses me back and it's just as wonderful as before and I know it's the same dude (whoever in the hell he is!)
He stands back up and says, "I have to go but remember what I said. Don't believe all of that."
I smile and nod. Of course, the asshole has to get his digs in and comments, "She's not Hollywood at all. Too fat and too old," he sniffs.
"Yes, but she's honest," the Big O answers and smiles at me. I stick my tongue out at the asshole.
They leave and I just lay there thinking about what he told me. I guess it all is an illusion. Just like the work I do. It's all marketing and spin. When I hear some of our commercials I have to laugh. I'm sure it's probably worse for them.
Is anything "true" anymore? Or is it all just an illusion?
The Rogue Goddess saw shadows dancing at 10:05 AM
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