At 4am, something woke me and I scrawled a note on a scrap of paper, otherwise I would not have remembered to tell you about my dream. Imagine how very sad that would have made you. People love nothing more than hearing the dreams of others. Particularly strangers. Do you know me? I hope not. This'll be great!
I dreamed that I became acquainted with Tilda Swinton, possibly through a mutual friend, I can't remember, but we were definitely staying at the same hotel. We had a few chats and then I saw her in a play in a surprisingly intimate theatre, which was also at the hotel. After the show, we were meant to have dinner, but first I needed to take a shower, so I went to the massive hotel locker room (?) where I somehow managed to wash my hair, but not to dry it. It was crazy crowded in there. It reminded me of an airport. So there I was, frantic, with wet hair, late to meet Tilda Swinton. I decided it would be better to go tell her I was running late than to just leave her waiting, so I struggled into my clothes--I seemed to be damp all over--and ran out into the lobby.
She was standing there, majestic, with a small entourage at the top of a short flight of stairs. I looked a bit deranged, but explained the whole hair-drying situation. She looked at me levelly and said, "I liked the distance we had in the theatre." I wasn't really taking this in because I was so excited that she'd been able to pick me out of the audience during her performance. "This..." she waved her hand to indicate the smallish space between us, and therefore our comparatively close proximity, "seems dangerous for us. And for the relationship."
The Tilda Swinton of my subconscious has intimacy issues.
We were still on for dinner though. Apparently, she always eats at the hotel restaurant whenever she's in Denmark. Also, we were in Denmark. Try to keep up.
She turned away, but I had something else to say to her, so I touched her leg to get her attention. Because she was standing at the top of the stairs, and I at the bottom, it was the part of her I could most easily reach. She turned and gave me a withering look. So here's a lesson:
Do not touch Tilda Swinton's leg.
The end.
I'm going to L.A. in the morning, so it's possible you may not hear from me for a few days. Probably, I will be busy meeting all sorts of celebrities in real life and experimentally touching their legs. But I'll be home soon enough. Have faith.
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