gay detective & sultry sidekick

from the evening of april 1, 2011

I am in a house that is very white. Not government of America white, but white in full colour. I am not alone. I am with Sarah Brown, daytime actress extraordinaire. She has been on many soap operas but is best known for originating the role of Carly Roberts on General Hospital, for which she won three daytime Emmys. Yep, yep she did! I know how to pick my dream co-stars!

I have been in this house, and I know what has gone on in it, but I don't let on. It's like I know we're actually in a movie and it's not really happening. Yet Sarah is so good, she is really living the moment. Like all good actresses do. Her and Meryl, man. I have much to learn, this is clear.

Sarah and I are trying to convince some policemen that a crime has been committed here. Not just any crime, but one involving murder. They won't believe us. It's like they know there's a special on at Dunkin Donuts and we're keeping them away from it or something! It is up to Sarah and I to convince them that nefarious things have happened here, in this house of white.

I notice that things are out of whack first, "Look at the tables!" I insist. They are glass, and covered in spots, from being wiped.

"They wiped all the prints off!" Sarah joins in. "They took away all the evidence!" She and are clasping hands, as if we are taking a breather from playing "London Bridges".

"There has to be more proof!" I yell. And this is because I know there is. There are two dead bodies, one in the kitchen and one in the laundry room. My dream self becomes concerned how I know this. It doesn't feel like acting in a movie or General Hospital anymore. It's real, or maybe this is what real acting is? Why didn't community dinner theatre prepare me for this?

Sarah and I are looking for more clues...you know, bloody knife, blunt candlestick. The regular. I lead us to the kitchen where we find corpse #1. Sarah immediately turns and hugs herself into me, vibrating from her sobs.

"Shh, it's okay" I intone, even though I sense it's anything but. "Look at this!" I yell to the cops, who seem even less interested now than before. Public servants! Harumph!

"It's like he's pointing at something!" I note, as his arm is pointing towards the laundry room where I know corpse #2 is hiding. The cops sigh heavily and make their way towards the room, and Sarah and I shuffle over there as well. The corpse over there is much older (as in been there much longer), and incidentally, smellier.

Sarah is still in my arms, but now she's my friend Christine {where's the accordion? :)}, a typical dream shape shifting move.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God" She repeats over and over again into my shoulder.

"Don't worry," I assert, "we're gonna find this motherfucker!" And I mean it, even as I'm not sure what part I played in all of this.
THE END

paranormal activity 3 : rickety cabin

from the evening of march 14, 2011

I am at a cabin, as the title suggests, with my friend Christine and some undesirables we use to hang out with back in the day. We are happy to be with each other, but clearly could do without the others in the room.

Suddenly one of the jerk offs, who had been out of the room, comes in and says "this place is fuckin' haunted man". We all laugh. He must be high on something. But he is resolute. "I was just in the kitchen and the stove started shooting flames at me".

"That's what happens when you turn on a gas stove", Christine says clearly exasperated. (Christine, even if you were wearing your sunglasses that day, they'd sense your eye roll)

"Wait!" Someone says, "it's not a gas stove". I notice the curtains moving even though there is no door or window open. It's kind of like a shape moving across the room, and everything it passes warps out of shape when it does. Then whatever it is begins strangling one of the people in the room. To death. As we all sit and scream. It feels like eternity when I finally think to yell "RUN!" We all scatter to different parts of the house.

I'm not really sure what we think we're going to do...clearly we're dealing with some sort of poltergeist, so I don't think "hiding behind a door" is gonna cut it. I hear other people screaming as I hide behind a shower curtain and know my turn is next. Sure enough, I feel something hit me with an incredible force, like a wrecking ball. I fall back against the shower wall. When I get back up, I feel like myself but not.

I look in the mirror and what is looking back at me is a different head then the one I'm used to. At certain angles it is a light green, like the colour of a fish. And I have hair like Ernie from Sesame Street. Oh yes! And my eyes are just two x's. Uber creepy. But then I turn my head and it's my normal face again.

Then the fishy-like being leaves MY being, and I actually hear it rushing down the stairs and it slams out the door. It has left us. Christine, The Undesirables and I meet up in the entry way of the cabin. We know it's going to come back, and we have to warn everyone out there about it.

We agree to split up to spread the word, and I decide to hit Brentwood Village Mall. Apparently our cabin getaway was somewhere close to Calgary. I head directly to the Kmart when I get there, as that used to be the totem pole store of that mall. Yes, it's that kind of mall. I head directly to the restaurant section of the store. Along the way I get distracted by the array of plastic shoes for sale. Some look pretty good. I'm taking off my shoes to try them on when the whole room seems to shift.

I look up and the whole front of the store is warping just as the cabin had. We be in trouble. And I didn't even get to try the shoes.
THE END

do i believe in life after change rooms?

from the evening of march 11, 2011

So I'm travelling, I believe to Hinton, Alberta. Have y'all been to Hinton? It is quite majestic, with the smell of sulphur in the air and the taste of...well, I'm not really sure what it tastes like, but the water tastes really weird. Even in the swimming pools in hotels. It's true, I have been there. Not just in dreams, my friends.

So I am there and I am using one of their athletic facilities and then need to use the change room. It is not clean and I am not happy to be there. There is a gentleman there who is naked but for white socks. He is expressing interest. I hate his socks. It's a push-pull thing.

I turn to get my stuff out of the locker and I can feel his hot breathe on my neck. Not really a turn on, in this particular scenario. I turn around to give him the what for, and I am frozen in fear. Due to a naked man in tube socks. A whole new level of pathetic. I grab my gear and get the hell out of there.

That's when I run into Cher. Now this might mean something to most gays in their dreams. But I'm not sure what it means to me, as I could care less about her. True, I think she is the poster child for why one SHOULDN'T get plastic surgery, but other than that I can really take her or leave. They're coming for my membership soon aren't they? The gay mafia?

Anyway, Cher is being hunted down by a killer and she needs my help. And someone who is terrified by naked men in change rooms is certainly the man for the job, no? She goes to call a woman who is also helping her and hears her outgoing message then drops the phone. I pick it up and listen to the message. It's The Hunter.

"Hello. This used to be Donna. It's not anymore. And I know where you are..."BEEP

THE END

table for two?

from the evening of march 9, 2011

So I'm back in Calgary, which right now really makes me anxious because I know how cold it's been IRL, brrrr. I seem to be there for a reunion of some sort, but it's not really clear what kind of reunion. That is until I'm in black pants that have meat sauce stains on them, and brown apron, a black bow tie, a white dress shirt with my sleeves rolled up. There are some of you who know immediately what this reunion is. But for those who don't.

It's Nick Steakhouse & Pizza, where I worked as a busboy, host, quiz show spinner and server. This was 15 years ago. And I still have dreams about it. Nick-mares, if you will. In fact, I've blogged about them before. Well here's another, with a different spin.

We all WANTED to be there. Yep, Aisla your idea of us all working there another night came true in my dream. Except you weren't there...sorry. But we never really worked together there. Maybe you were in the back doing dishes.

Anyway...Jenn, my faithful who went through pretty much all the industry phylum with me, is in the dream and we are going to be bussers together. It's been even longer than 15 years since I was a busser so this makes the prospect even more enticing. Watering tables, clearing plates and making place settings? Don't mind if I do!

So Jenn and I are rocking the bussing like we did back in 93, and then a lady who used to work The Front, as we called it, Pat (RIP) said "hey, I have something to show you!" It was the reservation book from our time as illustrious hostesses! There were doodles, notations and the like! While the reservation book existed IRL, I'm pretty sure I never made any notations, and if I doodled, I'm pretty sure I got in trouble for it.

So, I start looking through it and it goes all the way back to when I first started. It's like a baby book, practically! Except I keep waiting for the spot for "first time Curtis packaged up the leftover Chef Boyardee, er, I mean lasagna" or "the first time Curtis was in the weeds", but it's all about this guy we worked with named Mike Chin.

Mike had thieved the book without our knowledge and changed all the notations to look like he was more of a superstar busser than me & Jenn (which between, you, me & the blogpost, wasn't true...IRL or otherwise). In fact he had changed the entries to say he'd trained me when it was, in fact, THE OTHER WAY AROUND!!!!

I am livid and want to hurt him with a stick. I toss it to Jenn in disgust. "Read this!", I command. She does. I begin to get nervous she won't be as mad as me, that she'll be all 'uh, get over it Curtis...it's almost 20 years ago'. I begin to prepare my rationalizations.

I was just kidding
Isn't it sad that I've yet to mature
I'm mentally unstable, where can I get help?

But I should know dear Jenn better than that

"This is bullshit!" She says, throwing the book across the restaurant. "Let's get rid of it." Then Pat walks up.

"Look what else I found!" She says. She passes me a tupperware container with a cake of some sort. I look at her quizzically. "It's a carrot cake you made for the Christmas party once, Curtis! We still have it!" This is the most normal thing in the world to Pat. I look to Jenn. She nods, reaches in and eats a piece.

"Kinda like old glue." She says. This seems to make sense to all. I see a customer waving frantically in my direction. They've run out of water. I know memories and all the rest of it needs to be put aside for the mission at hand.
THE END

spiderwebs...in ray charles head (or on my head)

from the evening of january 17, 2011

Yes, folks for the first time in over two months (TWO MONTHS!) I had a dream. And it's a little on the crazy side, so living up to the expectations of all of you...hopefully!

So I'm with my Mom & Dad & Sister on one of those good ol' family vacations. We are headed to some sort of wooded cabin type situation. We are all our current ages (or what they would be), yet I have the attitude of a 14 year old boy. You know the whole 'on a vacation with my stupid family when I could be lying around at home doing NOTHING! jeez, thanks for ruining my summer...GAWD!'

So we get to this cabin type place and it is filled with really sinister characters who I'm not pleased to be around. But before you can say "gay boy who cried wolf", no one is really believing me that they are sinister. And why should they? When you're the jerk complaining about having to go on a holiday, wouldn't ANYONE you encounter seem like an annoyance. Just a thought, dear subconscious, just a thought.

I can tell all these evil doers are in our midst, and that they have a master plan, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is. That is until, you know, the spiders start crawling over my face.

Yep, I'm lying in the cabin suddenly, almost asleep and there are three or four tarantulas crawling on my face. Just havin' a good time, stepping in my eyes and shit. I know The Sinisters have planted them here.

I scramble to my feet, get the arachnids off me and notice that the place is crawling with them. And I keep walking through all their webs, which are more like the cocoons that those kind, cuddly aliens from Aliens wrapped their pray in. I'm literally running into them, getting free, brushing more tarantulas off, and then repeating. Every few steps. No one else at the camp is concerned, because they're more than likely responsible.

I then have a beautiful, good old fashioned panic attack. Where I can't breathe and can't see and need to put my head down between my legs in hopes of recapturing sanity. Again, no one is concerned. Sorry, correction, it's not that they're not concerned. They're just concerned that I keep lying about things. Can you believe? How RUDE!

Except one person who believes me. Me Dad! He pats my back and makes me feel much better about everything until I'm able to stand on my feet again. But once I'm standing up the view is anything but pleasant. Because everyone is pointing at me and yelling things like "faker!" and "phony" and "bucktooth princess!" (I made that last one up, because I think it would be really funny to be called that).

So then I do what any normal person would do, I see another tarantula and fake another panic attack. THIS will make them believe me! Except with all things faked (even by an actor as distinguished as moi...i've been in community dinner theatre you know), it doesn't come across as what it's supposed to. It appears as though tarantulas have now caused me nausea instead of fear, and it's more like fake retching with a few whimpers thrown in for effect. Even my Dad leaves me hanging, shaking his head at the fact his son didn't turn out to be as good an actor as he had been.

THE END

after the accident he was referred to as smush face

from the evening of november 9, 2010

(warning : this isn't a very nice dream at all...it's kinda scary...or it was when I was dreaming it anyway)

I am driving down a highway, on a motorcycle, and for some reason I am really at ease with this. IRL I would be freaking out and worried and thinking that everyone else was thinking "why is that gay dude on a motorbike?". But in this dream, I am enjoying it thoroughly. I do have a question for you motorbikers out there...how do you drive on the highway without music? I would go bananas.

Suddenly, I have a blackout...almost like the dream stops, or pauses. Then I am awake and on the side of the road which is a very steep hill. My entire body is in pain. I realize I have been in an accident and I look around for my bike. It is literally ripped in half from slamming into a giant redwood. I feel my face, and it is mostly not there anymore. It is just some kind of partial pieces of what it was. I need to see it, but don't want to see it.

There are several other cars and people who have also been in an accident in the exact same spot on the highway. Bodies are strewn everywhere. Some of them dead, some of them screaming in agony.

I know I have to get to the exact spot of the accident so I can find out what has caused us all to go off the road, and I have to make sure that no one else is going to be hurt. Climbing up the hill is almost impossible because one of my legs isn't working so well, and my arms aren't doing a very good job of pulling me up the steep parts, but I know it's what I have to do.
THE END

california drrrrreams

(i guess the one thing about not being able to sleep much these past coupla days is that when i am...i be dreamin')

from the evening of november 7, 2010

So my cool director friend IRL, Aaron, has decided to film a Lip Dub to California Gurrrls by the vacuous Katy Perry. I am supremely annoyed by Ms Perry IRL (okay, you're cute and can accessorize well with whip cream...we get it), but IDL I am more than happy to be a part of this project.

Now if you don't know what a Lip Dub is, I encourage, nay, IMPLORE you to go to YouTube THIS INSTANT and type in I Gotta Feeling Lip Dub and then watch the first result of the search (i'll still be here when you get back)

Okay, isn't that amazing?!?! So, we are doing this to the Katy Perry song and I am the first one to perform. Of course my part goes off without a hitch, and now it's the time for everyone else.

It seems to be going okay, but some of the lesser talented kids are not pulling their weight appropriately. My roommate, friend and chicken Aisla is producing this Lip Dub, which even in the dream seems odd as she is now dedicating her life to helping smug African orphans, and others on that continent in distress.

Aaron is giving her a really hard time. Talking to her in the most condescending, sanctimonious way possible.

"Yeah, when you're on set...it's your job to...I don't know...PRODUCE THE VIDEO. Maybe that wasn't entirely clear when we agreed you'd be producing this. Shall we go over it again?"

I give Aaron the dirtiest look possible, but this does not have the effect I had intended. I look over to Aisla, hoping she is not too devastated by this. In fact, she is biting her lip off trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of Aaron. I should know better than to worry about Aisla.

We are taking a break from filming and I am treating the entire set to how much I dislike this Katy Perry woman we are delivering a homage to. One girl pipes up in Katy's defense.

"I hear she's a really good colourer." We all look at her in hopes she is being sarcastic. She is not.

"Oh yeah, I can just imagine" I say, picking up a random pen pretending it's a crayon. "Ooh look! COLOURS!!!!!" I try to make my voice as airheaded as possible as I say this. The whole set laughs at my hilarity.
THE END