Dream

Here’s a dream from last night.

I’m on set for a small movie project. The film benefits a charity so major celebrities are donating their talents; still, it is a very amateurish production.

I’m in scene that as an extra, a close up of small group jostled just at some kind of impact. I’m positioned at lower left of two lines standing in on risers. The group is supposed to fall on cue toward me as a gunman enters at right. The shot isn’t working because we fall at uncoordinated rates. As the director breaks to work this out, I suggest that Luna cue us by starting the fall from upper right. As everyone falls toward me, she can scream at noticing the gun. We try this and it works on the first take. The director is pleased with me.

I watch the next shot Denzel Washington stands at an old porcelain sink in his underwear, shaving. Two young girls, acting as his daughters, wear nightgowns and lean on the sink watching their dad’s face. The shot is focused on their faces and his lower torso. Their faces suggest routine morning rituals. Denzel pulls out his penis and pisses in the sink. He runs water and washes his hands. The girls’ expressions remain blasé. He turns to leave the sink. The girls follow. I’m struck by the intimacy of parent/child relationships.

I’m dancing at an after-party following the wrap. The party seems much better organized that the shoot. I notice Mick Jagger is on the dance floor. I try to remain calm thinking: how cool is that I’m dancing near Mick Jagger? As the party ends, Jagger passes me with two women. “See you in Chelsea, then?” he asks me. I don’t know the next destination, so I ask if he has the address. “No, mate, sorry,” he smiles, like Jagger never has things like addresses. He goes where he’s taken and that’s where the party is. They pass and I think, that was a missed opportunity but how cool that Mick Jagger invited me to join. I’m readying to leave when one of the women in his entourage returns to give me an address, smiling.

The last part of the dream was lucid. I’m woken and moan, “Let me dream, I’m dancing with Mick Jagger.”