Last night, two things.
First. I watched, on the advice of big brother The Wooly Mammoth, a documentary entitled "Rivers and Tides". It profiles the life and work of Andy Goldsworthy, a Scottish artist that creates ephemeral sculptures out of objects he finds in nature. I highly recommend it. Even better than Steven Kenny. Barely.
Second. I dreamed a dream and in that dream I dreamed about the girl that I always dream about. Actually, the girl changes, but the role of the girl remains the same. Thus, throughout my life, I have had, I would guess, three prototypical dream girls. The first lasted from middle school through high school. The second, through the parts of college I was sober. The latest, since college. Last night I kept dreaming about the girl that I always dream about and I kept waking up. She was not the way I remembered her. She was uglier, fatter, louder - she was older. She had changed. Yet I was more attracted to her. I kept waking up. At around four in the morning I woke up and debated whether I should stay up. Obviously, I went back to sleep and in my dreamstate the girl that I always dream about was getting married to a man from my hometown who played Varsity basketball. This man is the same age as King Koopa, his last name is the same as the first and middle names of a certain cartoon coyote, and I'm certain that he and the girl I always dream about have never met. I don't know why this person was in my dreams. I haven't thought about him for years.
To add insult to injury, this quick and limber point guard and the girl that I always dream about were getting married in the same church that I had grown up in and that I had attended for the first 18 years of my life. It seemed like quite the affront, as neither have ever visited the church. In my dream, I tried calling the girl I always dream about but, in typical dream fashion, I was having a difficult time pressing the buttons on my phone and kept dialing other people, asking them to stop the wedding.
All of this to say that I wish I were a bit more like Andy Goldsworthy, and dreamed about leaves washing down a river and giant stone beehives and not about old point guards on the high-school basketball team.
And I wish the girl I always dreamed about looked a little more like this: