I dreamed up the perfect combination of adjectives to describe myself. I think it was a dream, anyway--it happened in the very early hours, when I was lying in a semi-comatose slump, metabolizing the remnants of a new drink I invented, called the Creamsicle.

In my dream, or dream state, I was writing a new entry for Spark and Foam. It's kind of pathetic, actually, that my sleeping brain comes up with my material--and yet, I think it is probably also obvious. Anyway, my entry for today centered around the fact that my friend Moniquah had told me she'd dreamt about me the night before.

Her dream was excellent--in it, she and I were in a space ship filled with foam, with a number of archetypal people marching around. I was sporting a giant Afro and a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress, sitting on a sofa and talking via cell phone to Madonna, planning her birthday party. That is exactly how, were I able to will it, I would wish all my friends to envision me in their dreams.

My dream-state essay concerned my wish that more people would dream about me in some glamorous context, rather than the usual dreams I hear about myself, wherein I'm riding an elevator with the dreamer, or I appear in the garb of a slightly dotty math teacher. In the process of mentally writing the essay, I came up with a great pair of adjectives that I wanted people to use in reference to me. I woke myself up fully, thinking that I should write them down, but then I thought, Nah--they're so perfect that I will never, ever forget them! Idiot.

Those dream ideas never work out so well, anyway. (Witness this essay.) Most times I've written down genius dream ideas, I wake to read them with dismay and the realization that I am not, in fact, the next Kurt Vonnegut.

So, I gave up the adjectives for lost. I mean, they're just words--maybe I'll rediscover them. But later, as I sat down to read an old essay, I felt the adjectives slip through my brain. I caught the faintest glimpse of them, and then they slithered away again, like a fish slipping through weeds in a clear pool. Yes. Exactly like that. Maybe a trout, or a pike--they're kind of ugly, but boy, they're impressive, stuffed and mounted above a wet bar.

And isn't that ultimately what I want? To catch those adjectives, stuff them, and mount them here, above the virtual wet bar of my journal? Not really. That's a stupid analogy, actually, and possibly as irritating to type as it was for you to read.

But the adjectives are still in my brain--they're just hiding, for some reason. It's frustrating that I can't reach in and grab them, nor coax them out. Stupid brain. Stupid adjectives. If they slip back into view, I'll post them, assuming they're not too stupid. (Ha--ESPECIALLY if they're too stupid. I think it's well established that I have no pride.)

Star of the day. . .Cowtan & Tout