currentsundercurrents

Last night wins the award for worst dream ever though it started out okay enough. Enter: Paul Reiser. In my dream he was in or nearing his 40s, more Indian than usual, and cute. Make that Cute. I complimented him on his role in Aliens, and he was very flattered, and very proud. I asked if he had won an Oscar for that role, and if not then he should have, I said. I said you were just so slimy, you really had that down. And he said "Slimy! That's the word I was looking for, yeah, that's exactly what I wanted to achieve." We bonded, you might say, and then exit Paul Reiser. Enter: Real live aliens. Or, to be more correct, enter aliens one at a time, creating all sorts of suspense. There was this one part where I was watching a play and the characters had to drag themselves out from under a building, that was like the stage, and then they acted on their bellies like gross under-building-dwellers. Anyway, the aliens. Well eventually they turn into real-looking people (after a very long sleeping-time of being absolutely terrifying looking) and I have to kill one with a pitchfork, it's the only way. Except for the first twenty or so stabs it's impenetrable. When I finally "bust through" I have to keep stabbing it, for what seems like forever. I get one of the prongs through its neck and make a hole and it still lives. We tell it to swallow a scarf and it does and then when it's in its throat it pulls it through the hole, like "taa-daa".