Thursday, June 30, 2005

Went to sleep fantasizing about S. W. and so dreamt about her. We were at a party, P. C. was there too, other people. Maybe R. H. from work, oddly enough. We got very drunk. I was sort of pushing it, getting her to drink with me, feeling that I could seduce her by enlisting  her in debauchery. There was some kind of strange circle dance at one point. She drank enthusiastically until the very end, when she precipitously got up from our table and went to throw up. We marveled at how she could keep it together for so long, how she hadn't shown any signs of excess intoxication, until now, suddenly. Then we were leaving and the stairs down were like the stairs in my apartment building. Ahead of us, in our way, was a guy on his hands and knees, crawling down the stairs and vomiting along the way. There was someone with him, assisting him, making sure he was safe. In between vomiting he said it's OK, you can go ahead, I'll be all right. Go ahead without me. We stepped around him and continued down. However, his puke somehow rained down on us below him, the stairs actually being ladderlike with spaces between the steps. When we got home I saw that a bit of puke had landed in my bag. I set about cleaning it.

Later I dreamt I was at a Formula One race with C. K. and others. The lead driver, Fernando Alonso, dropped out for some reason. He walked over to where we were standing, terribly aggrieved. I told him it was OK, he was a great driver. It didn't look like Alonso in real life. His mood lifted and he allowed us to take some pictures of him.