The Big Job

So the dream I had was just full of celebrity actors. Carel Struycken, Ed Wasser (who'd played "Mister Morden" in Babylon 5), Adrianne Palicki, Adrienne Barbeau, Angela Lansbury, Mark Ralston, Deep Roy, and the late Ron Glass, all running around in my dream like one hilarious episode of Murder, She Wrote.

There was an Oceans Eleven - style con job to liberate a very large deposit of cash which included some of Jessica Fletcher's savings, hence Angela turning up here and there. Adrienne (Barbeau) was a "reporter," "Anita Smith"; Ed Wasser was "Dr Morris," handing out the sedative injections as a "fever" swept a bank courtesy of a drug being slipped into the food and drinks by Carel Struycken's character "Temperance."

My dream never made it clear why the staff and security were eating and drinking in a bank. Shush. My unconscious was on a roll here.

Ron Glass was typecast as "Father Carmody," actually "Jim "The Gecko" Harrison" because of his sticky fingers (he was a pickpocket, not a second-storey man). Adrianne (Palicki) was both Wasser's assistant "Nurse Rowley" and "Anita Smith's" unnamed camera person, and she was apparently a former quick-change artiste, and if that gave you an image of Adrianne Palicki naked, feel free to indulge.

It all turned out to be a beautifully-orchestrated scheme to murder someone. Deep Roy, who'd appeared in the dream here and there, was an author whose stories had been cruelly rejected by an editor, "Larry Butler" (Ralston), who then went and plagiarised Deep Roy's character's book. "Butler" knew that Deep Roy's character was not very tall, but did not suspect that Struycken's character "Temperance" was, in fact, the author's brother, and who'd fed "Butler" drinks from a glass which had been smeared with a trace of peanut butter, knowing that "Butler" had a lethal peanut allergy.

I got as far as Jessica Fletcher nabbing Deep Roy's character, but not apparently in time to save any of the other characters, whose murders he'd arranged after they'd stolen the money: apparently, he'd sprayed the notes with a contact poison, which killed all the swindlers once they came into contact with the now-lethal money.

And I guess I learned something here today. "There is no profit in revenge," or maybe "J Michael Straczynski, please get out of my fucking head."


Image of Jessica Fletcher from Murder, She Wrote (Angela Lansbury)
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More Dreams of Romance

This morning, I dreamed of being seduced by a woman I met at a convention.

This woman was one of the guests. She was a famous actress, well known for playing a role in a certain science fiction TV show. She was also a secret smoker. I'm not naming the show, or the actress.

I spotted the guest heading out onto the open air balcony outside the restaurant for a smoke. It was raining hard, and she was huddling beneath an awning, trying vainly to light up. I told her that I could temporarily help her to be smoke-free for a few hours. Imagine. No urges or cravings. Six hours.

So I hypnotised her to be smoke-free, at least temporarily. The hypnosis would wear off at midnight - at which point she could come along and find me, if she wished.

Some time later in the dream, I was sitting in the lobby of the hotel, enjoying a cup of tea, when she approached me asking me if I could help her again. Without coercion on my part, and most certainly without any kind of hypnotic suggestion, she offered to sleep with me in payment for six hours' freedom from cravings.

We spooned in bed. Due to the difference in size, I had little choice but to play small spoon, with her warm body and arms wrapped about mine. It felt sensuous; sensual.

I did not know what was to happen next. My alarm went off. But I woke up feeling warm as toast, as if she'd just got out of bed.