This morning, I woke up to go to the bathroom around 2:30am. Upon return to bed, I thought it was kind of cold in the room, and whipped the blankets back up around me before settling back to sleep.
Dream:
In the dream that came after, Doug and I were getting ready to go to Canada for the weekend (you can tell I need a vacation if I'm dreaming about going to Canada in February). I was telling Geoff to keep the wood stove going, we were out of oil and the oil guy wouldn't be arriving for a couple of days. He should sleep on the couch, and bring the blankets downstairs that the dog sleeps on, or, if she decides to sleep on our bed make sure the fleece blanket she likes. He was in agreement and understood, and began bringing wood in from the yard.
Flash forward to wherever we are in Canada. We end up at a book tour stop where Martellus Bennett from the New England Patriots is signing copies of his book "Hey A.J., It's Saturday!" He was surrounded by little kids, and one of them I presumed was the official A.J., his daughter. So I said, "Hey! A.J.!" like you do.
"Oh, that's not the real A.J.," says Marty. "That's an actress I hired to play her on the book tour, because A.J. is in school and that's very important." Truth. So I realized I was talking to a grown woman who looked and was the size of a child. It seemed a little surreal. "Also," Marty continued, "it gets weird with her being on the tour because people act like they know her and they get really pushy and grabby. I have to protect my daughter and keep her safe. That's very important too." Agreed.
At the book signing, Doug and I managed to get split up, and I was in a town similar to Marblehead Massachusetts. Word on the street was Steven Page had opened up a Barcelonian restaurant and would be performing kind of a torch-song, lounge singer set nightly. That sounded pretty awesome to me.
I had no ride to get there, so a blonde woman in an SUV with Texas plates offered to drive me. She was drop dead funny, and she told me that people treated her weird. "Oh honey, that's cause you're from Texas and this is Canada. They think you're amusing." So we laughed and laughed as we drove through the small town. We got pulled over by a police officer who said she was "suspicious," and I told her it was because of the Texas plates. He then danced all around the vehicle and gave us directions on where to park around the bend for Steven's restaurant.
Pulling up into the parking garage, there were little terraces overlooking the restaurant, and the performance spaces. We parked the vehicle and she promptly disappeared, but Steven Page was hiding in one of the overlooks. Women were searching for him, screaming for him, and he was hiding. So I asked him what was wrong and he said he hated this, it was an awful idea, that these women were just insane and wouldn't leave him alone. Night after night they were grabbing him and groping him. He was humiliated and ashamed and didn't want to go on stage.
I was disappointed because I wanted to see his performance, and because I was kind of disappointed because these fans were such epic assholes. I encouraged him to maybe do his stage show from a higher platform. We looked at the restaurant and all the places he could be where people couldn't grab him. He cheered up and went to get ready.
Going down to the restaurant, the place was gorgeous. It looked like he put so much effort into the design, the lighting, the open restaurant where flames were shooting up out of grills as they made food. It was truly impressive. I found a seat at a small table near where we decided that he'd be safer, and I was ready to run interference to protect him if I had to. I took out my camera and took all kinds of pictures. The lighting changed shades and these beautiful balls of colored lighting were pulsing and changing levels of brightness. Every picture was different - all because of how the lights worked. It was delightful. I couldn't wait to find Steven Page later and tell him how great I thought the place was, whether or not he was the nightly singer - this was an outstanding presentation.
People began to push tables closer together to make a big table around mine, and I was kind of angry. I wanted to sit alone, but there I found myself surrounded by a dozen strangers. None of them Doug, and none of them the crazy Texan lady.
The waitress came and began pouring drinks. I asked for my own tab, because I don't know these people. She didn't speak English, and ignored my request. A giant, and I mean giant, margarita-type drink was placed in the center of the table and everyone started drinking through these giant straws. There was a man next to me who put his arm over my shoulder and tried to get me to share his straw, which completely grossed me out.
The waitress returned with three other women and began pouring giant bottles of what looked like Tequila, but because I was in Spain I figured it couldn't be, all over the place. They covered over the tables and the chairs, and us. The people at the table thought it was outstanding and wonderful, and they were laughing and opening their mouths. Everyone was cheering this spectacle, and I looked around the restaurant and saw the same scene unfolding at every single table.
I had to keep my camera away and safe from this process, and they wouldn't stop when I asked them to stop. They told me they couldn't stop. This was a special ritual of blessing that needed to be done.
Most of all, I thought I was completely disgusted by how much the cost must have been for these giant bottles of booze.
Steven came out on stage to perform, and he was amazing. What a voice, what a stage presence! He looked at me and I gave him a thumbs up because I knew he was in a safe position, and could sing and perform without being molested.
But then all these women started climbing on our table, kicking over the giant margarita thing, slipping in the "blessing" of booze on the surface. That kept them from getting any closer to him. I realized maybe this was his bright idea to make the surfaces slippery and unstable and prevent anyone from succeeding in climbing up.
I never got to try the food. I'm sure it was great.
I left after the first song, the crushing crowd, the smell of alcohol, the chance my camera was going to be destroyed... all of these were too much for me to cope with. I went back up to the parking garage. People were lined up in the terraces watching the show. Doug was there. And it was a perfect vantage point for some great photos.
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Morning:
The plan was to get up really early this morning and head to New York City for the holiday weekend. Doug came upstairs at about 10 am to wake me up and let me know that we had run out of oil.
So we had to wait for the oil guy to come, which he just did. I just saw a report on the morning news shows about Martellus Bennett and his daughter.
And unfortunately, no Steven Page sightings or Spanish cuisine have crossed my path today but ... I'm hopeful.
