Monday, April 26, 2004


In the past week, I've had the following dreams:

I (unexpectedly) win a Grammy for a song I co-wrote with singer-songwriter Rufus Wainwright. Rufus is at the award ceremony, I am at home listening on I dance around with joy.

I atttend a big schmoozefest with actor/writer/director Alan Cumming, who is, apparently, my friend. He tells me he'll meet me at the end of the party; he has some serious schmoozing to do. His first target...Henry Kissinger.

I've spotted at least one connection between the two dreams, not to mention the fact that my father went to college with Henry Kissinger, who was NOT his friend, but who Dad overheard enough to note that his accent had gotten thicker since those sun-dappled days at Harvard.


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