Dreams 9/7

  I dreamed an old colleague of mine, Mr. Hilton, lived down the street with Annie and Jay. It was his birthday and I had made him a portrait doll of himself only something had gone wrong. The doll was broken, so I fixed him a footlong turkey sub with mustard. I was wrapping it up in plastic and putting it in a brown bag when I thought I might fix the doll situation. Apparently I had made a doll for Annie that I never gave her. It had short dark human hair and was dressed in a glitzy mauve and gold suit. When I cut the suit off and the doll was down to little sparkly mauve boots I realized the Hilton doll suit was not going to fit and also that the doll was soft and supple. I remembered I had not fully baked the doll in order for it to be flexible. I put it in the oven wearing its wig and boots. When I came back it was a melted puddle of goo. At this point I became frustrated with the dream as I've been known to do. I did not really wake myself, rather became lucid. I zapped the original broken Mr. Hilton doll with a wicked rush of doll magic. Now, the doll was shrunken down to the size of Annie's doll and dressed in the same Bowie suit that I'd cut off earlier. The jacket was a bolero type, and the pants were tight and flared. I put him in a little glittery cardboard box that fit tight like a coffin and slid him in next to the hoagie feeling a bit guilty about the doll magic.