Melancholiesque

In my dreams last night:

Oddly enough we were holding some sort of benefit on what could have been a college campus. The benefit included showing a movie about a benefit that showed a movie from fifteen or twenty years ago. The movie-in-a-movie wasn’t a real movie from my past but it had a real presence. It was a movie about a group of Gay men who were growing old together and watching their friends disappear, Kind of a cross between The Laramie Project, Broken Hearts Club, Love! Valour! Compassion! and Big Eden.

As if that wasn’t depressing enough, I had a dog with me who was really old. It wasn’t Bimbo (who was also really old) but another dog.

When the movie about the movie was over, I had to get home across campus as fast as I could for some reason. I think I was worried about my dad finding out that my benefit was about Gay people. I was dressed in a couple of beige terry cloth towels. But they made up a whole ensemble, kind of like one of those overcoats/capes that Sherlock Holmes always wore – you know, big and floppy, with an extra layer on the shoulders.

I couldn’t get across campus because I couldn’t find the exit from the building. All the exits just led to stair cases that went down. Oddly, I knew I was on the second floor, but every time I went down a staircase, I was still on the second floor. At one point I passed a group of three or four similarly clad Gay men who were crying at the end of the movie about a movie.

Then I “woke up” to a movie review about Rosemary’s Baby. Weird.

I like my dreams about Colin Farrell better.