Underground

Gloomy weather makes for gloomy dreams. 

I dreamt the other night that I was driving my Corolla through a city. Rain and fog obscured my surroundings, but I was headed somewhere in a hurry. It was early in the morning and except for me, the streets and sidewalks were empty. Finally I pulled off the road, parked my car, and walked across the street toward an old building. Through the fog, I could make out letters above its large, open entryway: Marylebone Station...

...Then I woke up. 

Sweet Dreams

My, but I've been blogging a lot lately. Probably because there are so many other things I should be working on right now. We'll call it distractination... Distracted procrastination. 

So here's something...

I woke up from the following dream on a Sunday morning and instantly pulled out my laptop so I could document it. I am often traumatized by the weird stuff my subconscious throws together while I sleep. I once blogged about how Kenneth from 30 Rock transformed into a murderous raccoon and tried to stab me with a knife-tipped umbrella. TRAUMA. But sometimes my subconscious gets it right... And sometimes I have to document it, regardless of the embarrassment that is sure to follow...

I fidgeted in my seat on the front row, restlessly adjusting my gown and gloves. Friends on either side of me sat in their respective formalwear and whispered excitedly. Finally the lights dimmed and music from the orchestra pit announced the beginning of the show. Moments later, Langdon* walked onstage to an audience that thrilled at the sight of him. He blessed us with several smiles and waves before filling the theater with his warm baritone. As his song continued, I found myself singing harmonies under my breath. Suddenly a pair of eyes glanced in my direction. His eyes. I stopped my harmonizing at once and politely listened as the song continued, hoping my impulsive singing had gone unnoticed. A jab in the ribs courtesy of a friend's elbow told me it had not.  

The song ended and Langdon bowed graciously, the crowd returning their amorous approval with applause. When he raised his head, I thought I saw him look my way once more. Not likely. But what I dismissed as wishful thinking quickly became a frightening reality - Langdon was moving across the stage in my direction. He was so tall and his strides so long, I barely had time to catch my breath before he was stepping down from the platform and standing before me. 

My hands hovered mid-clap. Unsure of how I should react, I politely extended one shaky hand which Langdon gathered in his own. With a smile he muttered, "Nice gloves." I replied with a breathless, red-faced "Thank you." He spoke again, his hand still holding mine, but while I saw his lips move his words were swallowed by the din of his boisterous admirers. "Excuse me?" I asked, hoping he wasn't chastising me for singing aloud. I just got carried away! He spoke once more, but still the sound did not reach my ears. 

I then rose to my feet, boldly stating, "I'm sorry... You are so tall I can scarcely hear you from all the way down here." A hush fell as I gathered my gown and climbed up onto my seat, steadying myself by taking hold of Langdon's shoulder. We now stood almost eye to eye. "Well," he replied, loud enough for the audience to hear, "What are you going to do now that you're up here?" A spotlight blinded me temporarily as I looked out over the theater seats and their silhouetted occupants. What AM I going to do now that I'm up here?? To my surprise, I leaned forward and kissed Langdon on the cheek. The audience revived once more, a flurry of whistles and cheers. "I see!" he said with mock scandal in his voice. "And is this why you wooed me over here with your singing?" I gave a coy shrug and smiled. What are you doing?? Stop smiling like that!  

"What if you went to all that trouble for nothing?" he asked with a wink, though his face was suddenly serious. "What if I told you... I am not who you think I am?"

I feigned a gasp."Really?"  

He nodded. I raised one eyebrow and slowly glanced him up and down, finishing the gesture by pretending to take a good look at his backside... I know... But my dream, my rules. 

"Well, based on the evidence... I would not believe you," I declared. The audience laughed.  

"Oh, you think know me so well?"  

This time, I nodded.  

"Tell me, what other talents do you possess?" 

"Well...uh..." I began, drawing a blank. "I would tell you... but I am a lady... and a lady doesn't like to boast." I cringed. Langdon laughed. 

Fun as this was, I was losing momentum and anxious to sit down. My friends stared open-mouthed like a school of formally attired guppies. I awkwardly stepped down from my seat, but Langdon wasn't throwing me back with the rest of the fish quite yet...   

"I think we'd better interrupt our show and invite you up here to sing with me."  

A blush warmed my face as I felt him take my hand once more, urging me toward the stage. My feet protested, but the reassuring pressure of his hand in mine drew me forward. I was now extremely grateful for these ridiculous gloves. I'm sure Langdon could read my apprehension well enough without also feeling it seep through my clammy palms. 

Once onstage we faced his - now our - audience. The lights dimmed and the orchestra cued up another familiar tune. Langdon turned toward me and began singing. His eyes smiled encouragement. I finally drew in a shaky breath and found my voice. We sang. And not once did he surrender my hand.

*Langdon is a pseudonym. As in Langdon Alger, Lisa Simpson's imaginary boyfriend on The Simpsons who "is very quiet and likes puzzles." I'm keeping the true identity of Langdon a secret, but I will tell you that he is an actor and that in my dream he was in character. I will even tell you he's an actor I've blogged about before... Since that really narrows it down. 

A Great Weekend

I want a repeat of last weekend. Eight guys showed up to choir practice on Sunday, I completed a MAJOR to-do list on Saturday, and on Friday I attended the Josh Groban concert. As someone who fell for Josh (no shame!) after hearing him sing "You're Still You" on Ally McBeal over 10 years ago, I was mildly enthusiastic when the day of the concert finally arrived. But that's no secret - I did make a fake Lauren and Josh album cover and publish it on this very blog. Creepy photoshop habits die hard... Maybe it's not cool to like Josh Groban these days (or any day), but I've never been that cool anyway. 

Sometimes I feel funny about seeing performers I really like in concert. I don't know if it's because I worry about the illusion shattering or if I'm just weird about famous people in general. For example, if I saw Josh Groban at the grocery store, I would not run up to him. I would probably run away from him and find a really good place to hide where I could watch him from a distance. Hopefully this just means I'm shy, not weird and creepy. Anyway...

The man himself! - Josh looking right at me (I swear) - Lauren & Katie waiting in our seats - Lauren & Katie after the concert - Josh on the jumbotron -  Josh singing AND playing the piano (with happy feet) - Josh singing some more

I loved the concert. I cheered and hollered more than my family may have deemed acceptable, but I have no regrets. We met my aunt and cousins at the Little America Hotel for dinner then took Trax to the arena. I'll spare you the details and share just a few of my favorite things about the concert...

• The set list included old and new songs - I was surprised at how many new ones I liked. Like, all of them.
• Josh played the piano AND the drums. The drums were a surprise. 
• Judith Hill (Team Adam!) was the opening act and later joined Josh onstage for "The Prayer" and "Remember When It Rained." Beautiful!
• There was a violinist in the band who played a cool arrangement of Aerosmith's "Dream On." The hair from his bow was flying everywhere. 
• At one point, Josh and I both yelled the exact same thing at the exact same time in response to an audience member: "Imposter!" You had to be there... 
• We were treated to TWO encores. The first was "You Raise Me Up," which he invited me - I mean - everyone to sing with him. Chills! The second was Charlie Chaplin's "Smile." That may have been my favorite song of the evening!
• He seems to really love his fans. And they CERTAINLY love him back. I was happy to find my illusions of him only improved after attending the concert. He's adorable.

That's probably enough teenage swooning for one blog post. I recommend checking out the new album... It's called All That Echoes and I've been listening to it on a continuos loop all week long. You can find a youtube playlist for it HERE. Maybe we'll collaborate on his next album... A girl can dream! And dream, and dream, and dream... 

Dreams, schemes, and latrines...

For the past 3 nights my dreams have been filled with fires, death, natural disasters, and all manner of other equally traumatizing... experiences. "Poor Lauren... Having more crazy dreams..." On Sunday evening I went to bed at 11:00, waking only two hours later after having a nightmare about a tornado. Then, for some reason, I kept thinking about earthquakes and how if we had an earthquake in the middle of the night, I would be buried alive in my bedroom. How nice. Eventually I did doze off again and guess what? No earthquake. Just more dream craziness. My subconscious has apparently gone into hyper-drive. I think these nightmares are a manifestation of my worries as of late and my brain is just trying to make sense of it all. Bless it's heart... er... I mean, bless it's medula oblongata. 

Changing the subject... On Sunday night I went to our final choir rehearsal for the Relief Society General Broadcast... Oh, didn't you know?? I am singing in a choir consisting of YSA ladies from the Murray, Bonneville, and Holladay YSA stakes... They invited 10 girls from each ward to participate and since I have a musical calling they had to ask me. For the last few weeks we've been meeting for rehearsals, memorizing music, and learning how to sing with tall vowels... Thank heavens for tall vowels! 

Last week I wasn't feeling very well (too many mashed potatoes for dinner), but I put on brave face and went to rehearsal. After the meeting concluded I knew I had mere seconds to find a bathroom. I found the mens' room first (curses!) and eventually made my way around to the ladies'. With about 300 women in our choir, all of us finally free after a 2 hour rehearsal, potties in the ladies' room were in high demand. But this was an emergency. I did some quick math... 300 sisters in the building and only 4 brethren. So I took my chances and ran, hopefully unnoticed, into the mens' room. Sanctuary! My only fear was having the Stake President walk in as I washed my hands, but luck was on my side. Only my dear sister Katie saw my not-so-secret shame as I exited the door clearly marked with a little man.

On a more serious non-bathroom related note... The new General R.S. Presidency joined us a couple weeks ago for one of our rehearsals. They wanted to meet the choir and provide their support. I've grumbled about certain aspects of this choir experience. I've grumbled about the dress code... I've grumbled about the number of sisters trying to out-sing each other... I've grumbled about the long practices... BUT having the Presidency attend our rehearsals and hearing their counsel as they've addressed us? That has been a blessing. 

They spoke to us about how this experience could be one of healing, inviting all the singing sisters to take this week before the broadcast to really rely on the Lord. Sister Reeves said we should make reading our scriptures and praying to our Heavenly Father a priority. Not just a priority, but a necessity. If we're sleeping or eating, we should also be studying and praying. Nothing I haven't heard before, but I appreciated the reminder. So despite all my grumbling, I am making every preparation for the broadcast this weekend. My black skirt and white blouse - reminding me of my 8th grade Womens' Chorus days at Evergreen Jr. - are cleaned and pressed, my music is committed to memory, and arrangements for transportation have been made. Besides all the boring logistical stuff, I am also trying to prepare my heart and spirit. If there's something for me to learn on Saturday, I want to learn it. 

So please watch the broadcast. Between the music and the speakers, the meeting will be lovely. And you can always play "Where's Wawen?" 

If you do, I promise to look right at the camera and wink at you.

Story Time: A Dream In Which I Fall Out of the Sky

Our plane makes it assent as the sun dips below the Manhattan skyline, the fierce sky bleeding from orange, to pink, to purple dusk. The tempo of my breathing slows to a more manageable pace and I can finally swallow what remains of my whimpering misapprehension. My feet long for solid ground, but the worst has passed. We are airborne. In the far distance I see Ellis Island - The Statue of Liberty just beyond. She stands defiantly silhouetted against the lingering sunlight, holding her torch of Liberty aloft. Her halo, the city, the water, even the wings of our aircraft - all shimmer with silvery twilight until the sun finally melts away. 

My clenched fists release a dog-eared safety pamphlet containing laminated life-saving diagrams of flotation devices, emergency exits, and oxygen masks. I return the pamphlet to its pocket and quietly prepare myself for the next few hours of air travel. The plane banks right, then left, then levels as we chase the western horizon. Sighing, I stretch my legs, recline my seat, and close my eyes. 

Seconds later, I'm startled awake as I feel the plane drop. Lurching forward I grab the seat in front of me and wait for the plane to steady. When it finally does, I frantically glance around the cabin at my fellow travelers, expecting to see panic mirrored in their faces. Instead, I find them all quietly absorbed in other pursuits. Crossword puzzles, games of Sudoku, an in-flight movie - no occupation has been disturbed by the sudden turbulence. I turn to the woman dozing next to me and contemplate waking her when once more the plane drops. And keeps dropping. No announcement is made by the Captain, no flight attendants rush to our aid, no distraught passengers cry for help... We are falling in absolute silence. Panicking, I look out my window and once more notice The Statue of Liberty. She stands far below us in the harbor, but I can see her clearly in what little light remains. And she is growing larger.

As we gain momentum, I gasp for air. I cannot move. I cannot cry out. Still no reply from the Captain. Still no reaction from the passengers. The Statue is closer now... Now even closer. And suddenly I realize - there will be no announcement from the Captain. There will be no reassuring explanation or promise of safety. Because as long as the Captain and his crew maintain their silence, all passengers, save one, will remain oblivious to the tragedy ahead. It's a kind gesture, protecting us from the horrifying knowledge of our own fate. Familiar music plays softly somewhere in the distance and everything slows. We are now so near The Statue of Liberty, she could catch us if she tried. But she does not. Her unshackled feet are the last thing I see as our steel tomb plunges violently into the harbor and all goes black...

Whew... When I woke up, I realized the song I heard as the plane fell (a piece by Edward Elgar - very dramatic falling-out-of-the-sky music) was playing on my stereo. The music in my ears filtered into my subconscious as a soundtrack. How cinematic. So I turned off the stereo (just in case), fell back to sleep, and did not wake up until my alarm said "Wake up!" Aren't you glad your dreams are not my dreams?

Dream, Dream, Dream

Back already? I know... 

Remember how in last night's blog entry I mentioned an unfortunate dream I'd had? No? Anyway... Hours after posting that particular entry I woke up SHAKING WITH TERROR from what could be described as one of the craziest nightmares I've ever had. Looking back, I don't understand why I woke up feeling as frightened as I did because the details of the dream were really quite hilarious. But yeah, after waking up I couldn't fall back to sleep (way too paranoid) and so I pulled out my iPod and played some games. Finally, iPod still in hand, I dozed off. And the dream did not recommence. 

Can stress cause straight-up PSYCHOTIC dreams? I know I have been a little more anxious than usual lately... As a result, my dreams have become much more vivid and random and disturbing. And full of celebrities, too. If anyone wants to analyze my dreams (good luck), then please continue reading. There are a lot of gaps in the sequencing, but I'll try to recall the details. Seriously... I could use a decent night's sleep after this sideshow!

Last week... 

I dream I'm back in my old apartment except everything is in complete disrepair and I have random roommates that change throughout the dream. Dennis from 30 Rock (AKA Mayhem from those Allstate commercials) is our landlord and neighboring handyman. And he's really obnoxious. It's like a sitcom where there's an annoying neighbor who just won't go away. Anyway, he keeps dropping by to see if there is anything we need. Like I said, the apartment is in bad shape. Pretty soon he becomes such a nuisance we decide we need to get rid of him. Flash forward... We're (myself and the roomies) are at a gas station near Trolley Square when suddenly we're approached by Dennis and a couple of his thugs. He gets really confrontational and asks us what our problem is. We get in a heated argument with him and try to leave, but he just follows us. I notice a police officer standing on the corner, so I run over to him and grab his arm. The policeman is British actor Simon Pegg. (WHAT? I haven't even seen Hot Fuzz...) Anyway, I tell him that Dennis keeps harassing us, but by that time he's disappeared. Darn that Dennis...  I don't remember anything after that.

Over the weekend...

I dream I'm back at Roberts Crafts and I don't remember how to do anything. I'm standing at the Customer Service Desk, but I can't get my register to work. I don't recognize the program and don't know how to log into the register. There are customers lining up. Another cashier tries to yell instructions at me from her register, but I still don't know what I'm doing. Flash forward... I'm being picked up after work by Josh Hutcherson. He's driving a giant goldish-brownish Lincoln that looks about 30 years old. I hop in and pretty soon we're cruising up 33rd south, just chatting away. I start teasing him about being secretly in love with Jennifer Lawrence in real life. Then he starts teasing me about someone I like. And we're both giggling and it's ridiculous.

Last night... (shudder)

So in my dream it's like I'm watching everything unfold on a television set. However, there are also moments I'm right in the middle of all the action. It's going to sound hysterical when I tell you, but I assure you - it was NOT . This dream scared me so badly I couldn't even close my eyes for a good 20 minutes following. This time, Kenneth from 30 Rock (haha) was on a killing rampage (NOT haha). He was stabbing people with a large umbrella that had a knife hidden in the tip. By the time he finished, there was blood everywhere and he was just SO SCARY. He looked like a lunatic. 

The man of my dreams... Apparently...

SO - I'm watching all of this blood and carnage unfold on the television, when suddenly a raccoon walks into the room. And I just KNOW, don't ask me how, the raccoon is Kenneth in disguise. So we (there are other people with me) pretend everything's cool and that we didn't just witness him violently murder all these people. We don't want to make him mad, right? Raccoon Kenneth, despite being a furry varmint, is casually talking to us but he looks very suspicious. Eventually he climbs up onto my lap and I start freaking out like, "Oh no... He knows we know! I can't let him know I know he knows we know! Be cool!" At some point he turns back into human Kenneth and I think that must have been when I woke up. My last memory was seeing the knife-tipped umbrella. What is up with that??? 

Side note... Earlier in this dream I saw someone I know kissing Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson... I was at High School Reunion or something... And it was weird.

There you have it. If there are any amateur head-shrinkers out there, feel free to diagnose. I am not currently on any medications, but maybe I should be. One cannot go on dreaming like this forever! Why can't I ever dream about Harrison Ford?