<-- I'm the redhead

Last night Michelle and I went out for sushi and it was pretty much totally awesome.  It's quite amazing and wonderful that she lives so close to me now -- less than 15 minutes' drive!  For the first time since May 2000!  And we should be making better use of that fact.  I mean I see her a lot, at parties, at Movie Night.  But it's so so something to go out and just talk, one to one, girl to girl.  Even I need that sometimes.

She left my house at . . . I don't remember.  Ten-thirty?  Eleven-thirty?  I think the latter.  Instead of going out again somewhere, I let the wine in my head lead me to lay down on my couch.  Why didn't I just go into my bedroom?  My back wants to know.  I think it might be because going into the bedroom would be admitting that I was "going to bed", which would require at the very least taking my contacts out and brushing my teeth, as well as removing jewelry and brasseire and shoes.  The couch requires far, far less effort.  Oh also walking down my stairs to lock the door.  It's cold down there at the bottom, and when I turn my back to ascend the stairs, it's hard to shake the feeling that there is a monster behind me, following closely. I always run up the stairs. Just in case.

So on the couch I slept.  I dreamed.  And then at six-thirty I woke up, stripped myself of clothes and contacts, got into bed with the cat, and continued my dream.  I snoozed for over two hours (I wanted to get up and go into work; I'm at work now) whilst attempting to finish the dream.

So here's the dream part, which is usually boring.  Feel free to stop reading, I won't mind.

I was involved in a remake of a Star Trek movie.  I eventually figured out that it was The Final Frontier, which, as I realized when awake, is Star Trek V.  For those of you not in the know, that's the one that Shatner directed; it's also considered by most to be the worst of all the movies, and it's said that Roddenberry hated it so much that he said it didn't count, and that the character Sybok (Spock's half-brother) never existed (i.e. it's not canon, but I sound like some kind of nerd when I say that, so I won't mention it.)  So, I suppose, what better movie to remake?

I don't recall Shatner being there, so I guess they got a new director.  It was a very small cast.  It was me, bakerloo, Leonard Nimoy, and I believe three or four other actors.  One was a large woman, another was a guy with a beard and shaggy hair . . . I knew them well in the dream, but they're had to remember now.

It was sort of hard work, and I wasn't really as elated as I should have been to be in a Star Trek movie.  Or to have a kissing scene with Nimoy (it is his birthday today, coincidentally enough.)  Meghann and I had a good time, though, commiserating and whatnot.  We traveled from location to location in an Amtrak train, but in the coach section.  It was more uncomfortable than an actual Amtrak train.  But then, after a scene, we all got on the train, and this time it was NICE, with comfy armrests between the seats, so that we could actually lean them back and get some sleep (perhaps my constantly ringing alarm clock = train seats where you couldn't get any sleep).  We had thought that that was our last scene to shoot, but we had to do one more, halfway across the country.  We were excited by the fancy train, and excited that the movie was almost completed.  And then who should appear but artiekgb and quba!  They had come to visit the set.  They had driven to where we were, and had boarded the train to say hi to Meghann and I.  But then the train pulled away towards our next destination!  And it was kind of exciting that Artie and Sean would be coming with us, but also kind of worrisome because we were leaving Artie's car behind, how would they get back to it? 

That's about it.  Eventually I got up and came into work.

I got to kiss Leonard Nimoy on his birthday, though, and you didn't.