Her Dreams Are Always So Darned Prophetic…

Yes, I am going to tell you about the dream I had right before I awoke this morning, but first–

Sandra has now gone off to Stratford (Canada), where she begins rehearsals for the musical “Chicago”. And now, for almost the rest of the year, her life is going to be about flying back & forth and back & forth, to fit in the round tables and revisions and rehearsals in Toronto, as well as round tables and table reads and staged readings and rehearsals in NYC.

I’m only bringing this up because my schedule now has to piggy-back on her schedule for the rest of the year. Wherein, I will have to be flying back & forth and back & forth, to fit in the round tables and revisions and rehearsals in Toronto, as well as round tables and table reads and staged readings and rehearsals in NYC.

It’s going to be exceedingly interesting, gang. I’m going to try to stay flexible and not lose my mind or anything. But knowing Sandra as I do, I get the impression that, for instance, two and a half minutes before I have to be in Toronto for something, she’s going to text me to let me know that in two and a half minutes I have to be in Toronto — that kind of thing.

I used to travel a lot. Flying, I mean. I always had separate bags for flying that were always packed with whatever essentials I needed, so that I could just throw in some clothes and go. But this was when: a.) I lived in NYC and it was so much easier to get direct flights to places all over the country and in Europe; and b.) 9/11 hadn’t happened yet and airports and planes were still really fun things.

I was in an airplane, in fact, in the process of landing at LaGuardia in NYC, back in early 1981 — I was reaching up to get my overnight bag out of the overhead compartment thingy, when I decided to accept my first husband’s marriage proposal. Isn’t that funny that I remember that? I have no idea where I was flying back from, but I recall flying over the Statue of Liberty and getting up to get my bag ready, and thinking, “I’m gonna go ahead and marry him. I’ll call him when I get back to the apartment.” And I did.

He had proposed to me in the strangest way. I was actually living with another guy at that point. But Foun Kee considered the other guy to be completely inconsequential.  “He is just a boy, Marilyn. He has no ambition. He is not like you at all.” (Bold move. Yet he was correct.)

But you also have to factor in here that I was only 20 years old and that Foun Kee had the most amazing accent I had ever heard. He was Chinese, from Singapore, but he was from the aristocracy and spoke English with a pronounced British accent.  He was really conservatively educated and spoke precise and perfect English, which was daunting enough (i.e., he doesn’t use the ‘f’ word — ever). But that mixture of a Chinese/British accent was really just the coolest thing I had ever heard. And then, if for some reason, he was sort of angry about something, he launched into pure Mandarin, which I didn’t speak yet, so that was also just amazing to me. I was just a girl from Ohio, you know? Before there was even cable TV. Nothing at all was “global” yet.

ME: “Wow! You speak Chinese!”

HIM (not amused): “Yes, I do.”

ME (ever eager): “Will you teach it to me?!”

HIM: “No.”

Anyway, his accent was not why I married him. (And I should add that two years into the marriage, he began calling me “Marilyn dearest”, in that same accent of course, but I always felt it was sort of derivative of Mommie Dearest and so it always used to get under my skin.  And yes I have a temper, but I don’t consider myself quite as off-the-charts as Joan Crawford was so I didn’t think it was funny.) Anyway.  So he came over to our apartment in Hell’s Kitchen (back when it was Hell’s Kitchen and still really bleak and dangerous) one rainy Saturday afternoon while I was there alone. He was impeccably dressed. He even had his long, black umbrella and a slim briefcase (very British), and he sat down on the sofa, and took out a yellow legal pad that had several hand-written pages, detailing, in bullet points, all the reasons why I should marry him.

I am so serious.

I sat across from him in — yes, a desk chair!! And I was just astounded, you know? I was not interested in getting married. At all. To anyone. I was only focused on getting something happening with my singing and my songs. And he put his legal pad back in his briefcase and said, “Well, just please give it some thought.” And apparently, I did. (Because, you know, he also said things like, “You are so beautiful and I have dreamed all my life of having a woman like you for my wife.” I have a huge ego to go along with my lovely (Irish) temper.) (But I did absolutely adore him, gang, from the very moment we met. I have always loved an audacious man and he definitely was one.)

But anyway. I digress.

My point was that now I’m thinking that I should get that travel bag together again and just keep it ready, so that it’ll be easier to just go whenever I have to from now on.

Which reminds me that the phone call with Peitor yesterday in LA was several more hours of business stuff. And starting next week, we’ll have two meetings a week — one of which will always be devoted to working on whichever script, so that we can try to get everything moving forward at the same time. So life is definitely inching toward “crunch” time for me, as far as projects vs. time vs. travel.

Okay, so let me tell you about my dream! I realize that dreams are full of highly personal symbolism and might not easily resonate for anyone else. But this dream just astounded me — mostly because I don’t know why I dreamed it.

I had this sort of really large microwave oven that was also an incubator and a little bird was in there, in a sort of box, getting ready to hatch.

I was with a “guy” — I have no idea who, because he was just a form, a sort of energy. But definitely male.

When the bird came out of the incubator, it was going to be sort of like a  movie — but like a hologram, in that it would be completely 3-dimensional. And I sat down on the couch, really close to the guy because we were clearly “a couple”, and I told him what would happen — like giving him a synopsis of the movie — saying that the bird would come out and then get really, really large and sort of take over and become part of everything, and be really powerful. (Like a “super hero” type movie.)

And the guy said, “I don’t really want to see that.” And I really wanted to please the guy, so I said, “Okay, well, I’ll just try to get the bird to go back into the incubator.” (The bird had already come out of it.)

I got up off of the couch, went over to the incubator, and my right hand sort of went out in front of me, and suddenly the bird flew right over to me and perched right on my finger. It really gripped me but it didn’t hurt at all. And I was astounded by the power in the bird, and that — even while it wasn’t tame — it still knew how to perch right on my hand.

And I sort of shook it off, and then put out my hand again, and it flew right back and perched on me again and gripped me really tight. And I couldn’t believe how incredible that power felt.  And I instinctively knew that the bird symbolized freedom to me. So I decided to keep the bird. And then the whole apartment thing was gone, and the guy. And I was in a sort of professional building where a really big conference was going on — men & women, both. I didn’t go into the auditorium, even though they were waiting for me, specifically. But I did open the door just a little and let the bird fly in there and teach them.

Isn’t that an amazing dream?

I have to say, I pondered that dream all through breakfast. I don’t  think that men don’t equal “freedom,” but it was so interesting that my first mindset was that I really just wanted to please the guy (which is actually what I’m really like), but then once I felt the power of real freedom, I couldn’t go back. Plus, I really wanted to share it with people who wanted it. (And the “freedom” thing could also mean that I’m more committed to being a writer than to being in a traditional relationship, and that I can share my writing, my freedom, with all sorts of people without even being in the same room with any of them.)

I guess that was the dream that just explained my whole life to me and that later today, I’ll probably die!

Just kidding. (I hope!!) I’m thinking it’s more this Super Moon thing — a revelatory dream brought on by the moon.

Okay. I’m gonna scoot.  Enjoy your Saturday!! Wherever it finds you. (It’s snowing here again! Yay.) I think I’m going to work on Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse today because Wayne still has not gotten back to me with his comments about Tell My Bones so I give up; I’m done waiting — onward!

Thanks for visiting, gang! I love you guys. See ya.

 

 

 

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