In my dreams

As usual, my dream life continues to outstrip my actual life in terms of excitement and general incongruity. Last night Elvis was alive and well, living in Graceland, which had been magically moved to just outside San Jose. Even more impressively, in this dream, Elvis had been promoted to be my uncle, and my mother was very mad at him because he had promised to take me to the airport and was 45 minutes late. The scene where my mom was yelling at him for making me miss my flight was surreal, to say the least.

I should point out that the only known connection between me and Elvis is that we share the same birthday of January 8th. But then, dreams have their own logic.

There was also a subplot involving Elvis yelling at the people in my gym for not refunding my credit card charges in good time.

At no point in these dreams did Elvis actually speak French. Though he and I had some interesting conversations about who needed to be in the Rock and Roll Hall of fame. I'm sure Justin Timberlake would be pleased to know he gets the King's seal of approval. Mine too, though that would be based largely on the cuteness factor, as well on Justin's evident willingness not to take himself too seriously.

What's that you say? You were expecting some morsel of French culture? Tune back next week. For now, this blog is all over the map, apparently. We were exposed to Quebecois for the entire class this morning, so lord only knows what kind of dreams that might spawn.....

Tomorrow I think I am going to buy a microwave. Because it's the year 2011 and, seriously, who rents an apartment without a microwave oven. Even I, a confirmed Luddite, find this objectionable. Fortunately, there is a cheap electromenage store just around the corner. And no, "electromenage" is nowhere near as kinky as it sounds.