Dream #150: Ambassador Harrington’s Bitch Looks Like Natalie Portman; Jessica Alba Plays a Gargoyle Painter
05.26.2010 § Leave a comment
I’m fighting some mini-boss in a Mario game, like at a fortress or ghost house. But the boss is not computer-generated. He’s just a video playing in the background, of a yellow muppet cackling and spitting up the little yellow spinies that I’m dodging and somehow using against him. Victory!
This is just after graduation. Ambassador Harrington, this total flamer who dresses like the cliche French guy with the black and white striped shirt and red scarf and beret, has hired me as his Bitch. This means that I dress in drag. I’m in front of the mirror putting my face on. I’ve got deep red lipstick, heavy mascara, and really tight greasy looking blond curls. More or less I look like Natalie Portman.
There’s the big graduation party at the rec center. This tall, slender pale blond in a pink tank top with midriff exposure asks me where the restroom is. I jump to rescue! Working here, I’m a V.I.P. and I can get her into the secret restroom. So I take her hand and I’m flirting with her the whole time I’m leading her through the throng. But once we get there I lose almost all of my points because I forgot this was a women’s only restroom. She asserts that she is a woman. I make some flippant remark that loses me even more points. So I take her to the other secret restroom, but the security guard won’t let us in even though I work here. My cred is now totally shot.
Curiously enough, nobody will notice a Tyrannosaurus walking around the city streets until it starts attacking/exploding/destroying shit. Further surprising, the Apatosaurus is even more destructive!
Through the course of the movie I’ve been seduced further and further into Abassador Harrington’s. Now, in terms of my actions, I’m little more than a simple henchmen. I’m chasing down Linda (a tiny Asian girl with a big attitude and who is deceptively dangerous) on a motorbike through the ravaged city. I run her off her bike. It crashes into the bushes. She dives into the McDonald’s in Warabi, thinking I won’t drive inside. Oh, but I’ll go there. I weave through the clientèle and come up beside her, dismounting to pin her on her back. Raising my fist, I inform her that she can choose now to live or die. She says, “What?” not because she didn’t understand me, but because my inflection was so lacking in conviction that it was unbelievable. I repeat, with even more distance from my words, “You can choose now to live or die.” She continues to stare in disbelief until I roll off her and admit that I never had any intention of hurting her and my whole situation was just a sham. So we get up and I take her hand and we walk down the cedar patio to the riverwalk after dusk.
I take her home. It’s morning now and she’s in my bed, in jeans and a printed t-shirt, and she’s a younger, tinier version of Jessica Alba. I’m disappointing myself by being unable to stop asking her stupid celebrity questions. Somehow she’s putting up with it, though at this point I have no idea what distinguishes me from any other retarded fan of hers that she would be spending time with me. We decide to go to a movie.
So we’re walking up the stairs inside a Koopa castle, through a narrow torch-lit corridor, and there is this procession of people, supposedly we’re in a tour group. We pass open doors to the right and left. Apparently there’s a lot of military stuff going on here. Generals discussing, lieutenants reviewing maps. The last door opens to an expansive room that is filled with gargoyles in various stages of completion, and the artists laboring on them. It’s getting pretty sunlit now. At the end of the hall, just a little further, it opens to a balcony, where I find Jessica Alba in her movie, and she is a gargoyle painter.