Me + Idris + The PA I Almost Had To Kill: A Jaded Dream Post

It's been a long time since I've posted a dream for analyzing, but honestly my vivid dreams have been few and far between. But here's one from this past weekend that should prove quite entertaining. Ready? Ready!

So I'm dating Idris Elba (stop laughing) and he stays over my place one night. In the morning he has to get to work on a set near my apartment, and goes to use the restroom but I'm like "Noooo N's home and I don't want her to know you were here."

But he's all, "I have to meet her eventually."

So fine. They meet and it's awkward as hell. Right then some strangers try cutting through my room to leave this restaurant that is now behind my apartment attached to the buildings and I tell them "no, you gotta go around." I lock the door and Idris leaves.

Ffwd to that night, I see my door is open because people ignored me and have been cutting through my apartment all day. I go out there to talk to them and see everyone dressed in 1970s exploitation film attire and looking high as fuck. They're filming a goddamn movie at the restaurant. I tell one of the production ladies she can't go through my place but she's like, "yeah, we can and we will."

I go OFF. I say "no, you paid for use of the restaurant and alley, not my apartment."

So we argue and this production lady has a whole production team with her but I stand my ground: they CANNOT cut through my apartment to come and go. She says they spoke with my landlord and he gave permission. I say, "I doubt it" and slam the door in her face and lock it. The door has this big window in it, and don't you know this bitch threw a chair through that window? So now it's on. I reach through and slap her in the face through the broken window and when she tries to reach in and hit me I move her arm so a shard of glass slices her. It's a whole ruckus.

They walk away but I know something is up so I scoop up Naomi and leave the apartment, but before I do I see Idris left his shoes in my place, and I'm low key pissed. Who does that? This ain't your house, Idris! But I digress.

Outside, one of the actors on set is wildin' out and a PA has to tell him to chill, so I realize I'm dealing with an amped up cast and crew--what the hell kinda film is this? I'm already nervous because folks have been in my apartment and now the glass is broken so they can get in again, and now I see these ain't normal sober people. So I'm fitna call the cops and shut down production.

But guess what?

It's the movie Idris is working on!

So now I have to choose between being with Idris-fucking-Elba, or standing my ground against this feral cast and crew. I was so troubled by this that I woke up!

Kelly! I know you're reading this; tell me what it all means!

*smooches...vowing to lay off the late-night snacks*
--------------
clearly that was a buffalo wing-induced nightmare!

One Angry Duck!

Donald tried to kill me!

So I had this dream this morning, during my 7AM nap, that N and I found this dying duck outside our door. But it wasn't really our door as this whole dream took place in a cross between my old apartment on Stuyvesant Ave and Halsey Street and my grandmother's old railroad apartment on Patchen Avenue in Brooklyn.

So this duck was nearly dead, y'all! Its feathers were replaced with this leathery skin and its breathing was labored, so with 15 seasons of ER under my belt, I assessed that the duck was dehydrated and needed to be put in water ASAP. We grabbed a white painter's bucket, filled it with water and yes, put a grown ass duck in the bucket. The effects were immediate. Feathers seemed to reappear and the duck was breathing better and even frolicking in the water. I felt confident enough to leave N in charge of its care while I went off to do some dream-like things.

Cut to N running into the room to inform me that the duck escaped. So I ran around the house looking for it with her, because all of a sudden it was so important we find it. And when we spotted it in the kitchen, IT ATTACKED US. As we tried to coax it back into the bucket it pecked at us and tried to bite us and was flapping its wings angrily at us. I was all, "What the fuck? I just saved your fucking life!"

But this duck would not let up, and my dream self yelled at my real self to wake the hell up; this bird was coming for blood and I wanted out! And then I woke up, relieved.

What the hell, y'all? I haven't eaten duck in nearly two years. Why was this thing trying to cut my throat up with its beak?

UPDATE: So I shared this dream with my co-worker and we decided that K is the duck. So much to think about right now...

*smooches...resolved to never eat almonds before bed again*
-----------
I mean, what else could it have been?

The Birthday Dream

Today is my cousin Minnie's birthday. I won't say how old she is because she might kick my butt all over Brooklyn. But I will share the weirdest dream I had about her this morning. First let me preface this with I had spicy food and sugar before bed AND I fell asleep watching reruns of "Melissa & Joey" on Netflix, woke up at 4:14AM, goofed around online and then went back to bed at 5:30AM. That is when the following dream happened:

I got a call from my mom or aunt (I can't remember now) that Minnie took off for a week in the Dominican Republic with my grandmother without telling anybody. I got upset because how dare she plan a vacation without telling anyone, and just taking Grandma like that? THEN I got worried thinking where are they going to stay? Papi has a new girlfriend; there's going to be trouble! 

I was calling all over DR trying to find Minnie and Grandma, worried that some crazy shit was about to go down in Los Mina. The anxiety was so much that I woke myself up, crazed, only to realize that Grandma isn't alive and Minnie hates DR. But I wasn't really awake. I was still in the dream, realizing all of this. That's when I woke up for real sad as hell.

So yeah, my brain is having a meltdown, I think.

Isn't she lovely?

Still... Happy Birthday, Minnie!! Because I know what you really wanted today was another dose of my crazy. LOVE YOU!

*smooches...just for Minnie today*
-----------
I'm so tempted to tell you how old she is, though, just so she can call me "odiosa"

How I Launched Latino Heritage Month

A bit ago, while I was in my feelings about the anniversary of my grandmother's passing, I wrote something very flippant about my Penzo grandmother. I don't regret it because it is how I genuinely feel; she and I don't have a real relationship. But I should never have disrespected her in that fashion. My family raised me better than that. GrandMami and Papi raised me better than that.

So last week, on the way home, I called my aunt to say I'd be stopping over on Saturday. I pulled myself out of bed, bought her some yellow roses (according to Mami they're the only acceptable flowers to bring someone) and spent a few hours chatting with her. I told her about K & N and my aunt and grandmother informed me that one of our ancestors was a stolen Indian (Native American) woman. Child. The more stories I hear about my ancestors the higher my mutt factor increases. I don't know if this was a true story or not, but I enjoyed hearing it. More puzzle pieces. Bigger puzzles.

I decided, this woman won't live much longer. She probably doesn't even remember treating me like a delicate flower to be kept at arms length instead of family. I might as well get to know her and learn my family history before it's too late. I know GrandMami would approve of me behaving like a respectful granddaughter, so I do this in her name. Saturday night I had a dream about her apartment again. It was like a message. Like, she's pleased with me.

Maybe next time she'll even stop through and give me a tight agua-florida-scented hug.



In other news, my cousin's youngest son...LAWDAMERCY. I've never wanted to shake a child more in my life. I had to WOOSAH so many times. I have never appreciated my children more...

*smooches...digging deeper to be and do better*
---------
honestly, it's the only way to honor those who sacrificed everything for me.

"It Was All A Dream..."

Just the other day, I had what I consider a premonition dream about winning an Oscar for my original screenplay. It was so vivid that when I came to I was smiling and reaching around for my award, only to find I was not on a stage. So what you're about to read is what I wrote as soon as I woke up, edited for grammar and spelling, and filled in with details I remembered later or added because it sounds nice.

I'm sitting in the audience with Mari, my producer and some of the cast members. While Rita-freakin-Moreno is on stage reading the list of nominees on screen is a shot of all five of us. I look into the camera that's in my face and I do one of these:

Then...Rita calls my name. MY. NAME! All of a sudden I'm overcome with emotions- everything I've worked toward and here's my reward: an Oscar for my kick-ass storytelling abilities. I walk up to the stage with my face in my hands because of course I'm crying Thug Tears at this point. Oh, and I'm wearing a dress similar to this Halson beauty:

So I get to the mic and listen- I'm sure I had the best intentions of being classy and dignified and all that, but even in my subconscious mind I'm ratchet and inappropriate. I look at Rita and tell her how much I love her and ask if I can hug her. Right. Then I go to the mic and say, "WHERE BROOKLYN AT?!?!" and after the crowd of Brooklynites that were sprinkled throughout the audience dies down I add, "Rita Moreno just gave me my first Oscar. There's nothing more to say!" and then I walk off. I don't thank anyone or anything.

THEN I'm escorted to the little press room, where a bunch of reporters are all in my face with the "How does it feel?" and "Did you know you were going to win?" questions. One asks about my hugging Rita Moreno and I get indignant. "Don't you know who she is? Don't front like you don't know Tuptim and Carmela and Anita and Sister-fuckin-Peter Marie from OZ. I know y'all bitches AT LEAST watched OZ, right?!"

And then it got worse. Someone asked why people from Brooklyn always shout out the borough, to which I replied "Because Brooklyn is the shit and we're proud to be from there." Another reporter quickly followed up with "So do you know Spike Lee?" and CHIIIILLLLDDDDD...I shot her the evil-death-stank-eye and retorted "Right, because we all know each other? Bitch, sit down!"

After an awkward pause someone asks when my next film comes out and I reply that I'm really busy writing for my hit NBC comedy (shut up it's MY dream!) and that I have a new book coming out so the movie stuff is on the back burner for now. So the guy next to that reporter gets this snarky-ass look on his face and says, "A book? What kind of book are YOU writing?" like I didn't just win a major prize for writing and shit. So I invoked the power of Tina Fey/Liz Lemon and said, "Your mom. I'm writing a book about your mom and all her lesbian affairs." Then I left that room because how do you come back from that?

Folks, I wish that was where my dream ended but it's not. I continued The Jaded Ratchet Tour the next day on The View. During our live chat, my age came up and the ladies couldn't believe I was 39 (YES. I'm winning the Oscar in TWO YEARS!) and Elizabeth innocently says, "There's no way you're 39!" And my thug ass replies, "What- you want to see my birth certificate? It's not like I'm running for president..."

Basically, it was the sweetest of dreams for me but honestly, a publicist's nightmare. Can't wait!

*smooches...looking through my notes to find the winning script*
------------
this needs to be written and sold YESTERDAY If I'm gonna win the Oscar at 39!

That Penzo Dude Appeared In A Dream

I want you all to know that just because I'm getting more sleep these days and have stopped eating full meals at 3:00 AM doesn't mean that I still don't have crazy dreams. Because I do. The only difference is that I forget or run out of time to write them down.

However I found notes on a dream I had a while ago. It was one of those vivid dreams where you wake up thinking it really happened. Basically I was at some party and there are some other Penzos there, too. Cousins, aunts, etc. Then my biological paternal parental unit approaches me and I turn my back like, "Negro please, I ain't got nothing to say to you. I don't need you." and he's all "Clearly you do because your mom obviously didn't teach you any manners or to respect people."

To say I woke up mad is an understatement! I was like DID THIS ASSHOLE JUST INSULT MY MOTHER?!?! I was two seconds from going to WAR with this man, and while I may have cause to keep him out of my life, the tirade of profanities I had lined up was all due to my subconscious.

After about five minutes I realized, "Wait- was that real?" and then quietly sat back down when it hit me; "No, it was just a dream."

Funny how even in a sleep state I don't like that man.

*smooches...still laughing at my reaction*
----------
seriously, though, it's a good thing I don't have his phone number because it was about to be ON!

The Last Crazy Jaded Dream Of 2010

Are you ready for this?

So this takes place where most of my vivid/crazy dreams take place-- my grandmother's apartment on Patchen Avenue in Brooklyn. Apparently I killed a man for talking sideways about my mother. He sorta looked like the uncle from the Harry Potter films. I just straight up choked the shit out of him with his own tie- saw him turn red, sweat, struggle to breathe until he died.

When the cops come looking for me (and Mari, who wasn't there for the actual murder but is somehow an accomplice), we use magic to turn ourselves invisible. Invisible.

We keep that up until Mami finally busts us and convinces us to go to the cops. I am all NO and then POOF!! my powers were gone. I couldn't turn invisible anymore.

Then I woke up. And went to the mirror to see if I could make myself invisible just in case. <---That part wasn't a dream. I really stood in front of the mirror and tried. Listen- the characters on Heroes got their powers after a lunar eclipse. I'm just sayin'. Now about this dream... What the fuck??

*smooches...not sure what's going on in my head*
----------
and actually kind of afraid to find out