Pain pills and blogging.

So blogging and pain pills probably don't mix.

I had some weird dreams last night, though. I was in a neighborhood with a bunch of cafe's, and Bob Dylan is performing in one. He's looking at me like I'm a possible assassin, and I'm ignoring him. I'm going to read my poetry, by god, even if he thinks I'm a loser.

So the first guy up reading is totally hopeless, but he corners me, so I start giving him critique.

He shows me his handwritten version and his online version, and I'm starting to comment that his online version is more condensed, when it suddenly disappears off the screen.

"I think I like the online version better," I say. "You've consolidated it. Fewer words is always better."

"That's what I've been telling him," his wife says, who I suddenly notice is gorgeous. "But he thinks that words are free and the more words the better."

"Yeah, but someone has to want to read them."

So, suddenly, the couple is asking me to go out to dinner with them and their grandma. "You want to date me with your grandma?" They laugh, and say yes.

So I'm thinking free meal, and off we go. And I'm telling a story about the last time I went out -- with the "other" grandma, who was Asian and couldn't speak English...and the story is hilariously funny, somehow.

About this point in the dream, the loser poet turns into George Clooney. We get the restaurant and it's still under construction. So then we're all checking into a hotel room -- and it's a complete shambles. I'm outraged, but George and the others are laughing, like it's a joke.

They tell me that from the corner of this room we can hear all the other patrons of the Hotel. I'm pretending that I'm overhearing Julia Roberts having torrid sex....and they're all laughing. I'm saying, let's go out on the town, but George has already passed out after a couple of drinks....Worthless, lightweight.



All the renovations in the dream match what's happening at home, as our son Todd is renovating the downstair bathroom and the landing. Everything is in uproar.

George Clooney and Bob Dylan and Julia Roberts? I knew I shouldn't have watched the Academy awards....