The Red Dragon is fucking busy

. . . but has some sort of posting ethic. Unlike some. Most of my department has chosen today not to be in, the advertisers are as bitchy as rabid dogs with herpes, and last night I didn't do anything except launder, get psycho-analysed, and make mixed CDs for Christmas. So I'll post the dream I discussed with my analyst last night. He had some great insights. I just enjoyed having the dream. Dreams are fun.

I was in a typically sketchy mall in Quebec, about to catch a train at the adjoining station. I was looking for a bathroom, some fresh fruit, and a notebook. I could only find a large (letter-sized) notebook, and the store selling that only sold Doritos otherwise. I bought it and went to look for fruit elsewhere. The bathroom was odd; the women's cubicles were two thick with little halls leading from the first row to the second. I went to the second row and didn't actually pee; just sat there for a few minutes like a drunk chick at a club trying to pull herself together.

There was a mix-up with the train so a group of us took a minivan. My old roommate and another university friend were there. I had no thought of where we were going. We were talking about exes, and I was about to say something bitter about the Swiss when we went over the crest of a hill and I saw our destination. It was Florence - the Duomo and other landmarks were there, as well as the distinctive roofs. But it was strange because it was on the shores of a large body of water instead of the Arno, and the weather was sunny, crisp, and a little snowy.

We took the cab (for the minivan was now a cab) down to the frozen waterfront, which looked like Scarborough, a spa town ran to seed in Yorkshire I used to go to every summer. The uni friend and I were cracking gay jokes about Batman and Robin. We all piled out mid-conversation and started walking somewhere - the friend and I walked in the wrong direction and then the other three, Ex-Roommate most stridently, called us in the right one. I don't remember where we were going, but it was somewhere very familiar - the apartment of a friend, or even my own apartment - that I should have known how to get to.

And then I woke up.

And here I am at work again.

Work's for the fucking birds, man. Hey! Guess what! The American Senate rejected the Patriot Act. So the questions are - has the Democrat party grown balls, or has the Republican party lost it's? Is it a question of people being stroppy in the lead-up to the next presidentials? Or is everybody figuring out that the word 'patriot' stuck on something doesn't make it unpatriotic to oppose it? Will Elisa succumb to her irrestistible attraction towards il Duca di Rivombroso even though he can't marry someone of her social class? Will John realize Marlena, is, in fact, possessed by Satan himself? Shit. American domestic politics. How can something be so boring and so important at once?