Monday, August 31, 2009

Dreams (the sleeping kind)

It seems as though my dreams really are influenced by my reading materials. Every time I tell Saint Jerome that I slept badly because of bad dreams, he says "Look at the stuff you read!" (Though when I tell him I had weird dreams he says that all dreams are weird.)Anyway, I've been in a true crime phase. I've read about four Ann Rule books in a row, then an Agatha Christie to cleanse my palette (My the Pricking of My Thumbs) and then Robert Kreppel's The Riverman: Ted Bundy and I Hunt for the Green River Killer. My dreams for the past few weeks have involved dump sites. Not so much serial killing but the burial grounds and I'm trying to figure things out. Yuck. What I want to know is, how come when I read a ton of cliterature, my nights aren't filled with erotic dreams? Shouldn't it work that way too? Anyway . . .

I'm now on the verge of reading My Blue Notebooks: The Intimate Journal of Paris's Most Beautiful and Notorious Courtesan by Liane de Pougy. Maybe I'll have dreams of fantastic dresses, amazing jewels and sex with old, fat rich men.

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