Broken Dreams

1. I dreamt that I was at a restaurant and ordered french toast but it came in one of those red plastic diner baskets and also in a puddle of what I believe to be butter so it was super soggy and disgusting. Later, I asked my mom to make french toast but she said she wouldn't make it because I had just had some the day before but I argued that it wasn't good, so it didn't count.

2 and 3. These dreams were actually interspersed, a la Julie and Julia except that I was in both of them. In one of them, I was at a theatre and I was looking for a bathroom but I couldn't find one that didn't have a long line. It was more exciting than it sounds because, I dunno it was a cool theatre and I was exploring weird not-totally-allowed-to-go-into areas. In the second story I was a Zooey Deschanel-type actress filming a quirky romantic comedy where my eccentric character falls in love with the loser skinny guy with messy dark hair much to the chagrin of the blond barrell chested jock. The jock in question, whose name was Ian and looked like this guy John from Camp Barnabas whom I called Jack in my head but Tyler called Eathan, had a car that was like the Indiana Jones ride vehicles: several rows and no top. Each row had a different sports logo adorning it. I or I guess my character was hanging out with him and all his beer-chugging muscle-toting buddies and they were being jackdonkeys and I went for a walk, leaving my purse (Stupid, I know. I didn't write it.) and then they drove off. I met up with them somewhere else but they didn't get my purse and they wouldn't take me back to get it and I was mad. He tried to take my arm and told me to get back in the car (as they so often do) but I refused. The last scene we filmed was the lame but sweet guy and I were frolicking in some tall "California gold" grass. And I wore a longish navy summer dress with tiny yellow and orange flowers all over it. Yeah.