Image © Emily Shur
Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I tell my husband what I dreamt the night before, and I usually get the same response. That response is, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” So, here I go. Last night I had a dream that I was being sent to Japan for a shoot. My assistant came with me, along with my friend Anna because she had never been before. We flew there and got to our hotel, The Cerulean Tower. I have stayed there before, and in my dream, it was not the actual Cerulean Tower. It was some other made up nice hotel in Tokyo that was called The Cerulean Tower. We went in and searched for a really, really long time for the reception/check-in counter. We went up and down numerous escalators, and asked a few hotel employees only to get undecipherable directions in broken English. We finally found it and decided to sit in the lobby for a little while. At this point I realized I forgot my sleeping pills, and I had a small freak out realizing that I was not going to be able to get a good night’s sleep before my shoot. So, what’s the reasonable solution to this problem? Fly home to Los Angeles to get said sleeping pills and then fly back to Tokyo in time for the shoot. So, I go back to the airport. I fly home. I try to buy a return ticket to Tokyo on a pay phone on a LA street corner, only to realize that because of the time change, I will not be able to get back in time for the shoot. I am very, very angry at myself for flying home in the first place and ask “Why I am sabotaging myself?” over and over again. I wind up flying back to Tokyo to apologize profusely to some important Japanese businessmen and not leave my assistant and friend hanging.
This was the worst night of sleep I’ve had in a long time. I kept tossing and turning, looking at the clock. 3:00 am, 4:00 am, 4:30 am, 5:00 am…. Two things I’ve taken from this dream: It’s time to go back to Japan and also time to refill my sleeping pill prescription.