strange dreams last night. a film critic dictating a review to me suddenly becomes overcome with fear as bloodstains appear on his shirt. i try to find the source of the blood as he panics helplessly.

jess and i are in a little cafe, run by some punky kids. it's dirty and resembles a japanese noodle house. steamy, salty air. for some reason i become frothingly angry with jesse and storm out of the place. i don't know why.

cold, dark, impersonal hotel, very modern and sleek. i'm taking the back stairs. lonely, somewhat sinister mood. i dream of such hotels often.

yesterday morning as i was waking up i had an extended fantasy-dream, in the time of half-wakefulness right before you actually wake up. i pretended i was a tarot-card therapist to the stars. celebrities consulted me about their lives, and i used hand-painted custom tarot cards to begin the therapy session.

actually sounds kind of like a fun job.