Last night I had a really scary dream. Steve told me and Bob about a really great old house that was for sale, cheap and very grand. It was in horrible shape–the roof leaked, the floors were falling apart, no insulation, etc… but it had lovely bones, an old victorian mansion with magnificent detailing, so we bought it, thinking we could fix it. Well, after a while the house terrified me–I was convinced it was haunted. Then the ceiling started caving in. I told everybody to get out (there were all these interesting people living there already), and we escaped just as the entire house caved in on itself and there we were, in the rain, not knowing what to do or where to go.
Perhaps it’s too easy to read, this dream, and hence my anxiety.
Elin’s visiting, my friend from Vinalhaven. Her visits are always very intense, with lots of activity, mostly centered around food and expensive objects. The other night we saw a wonderful film at the Castro, Clouzot’s Quai des Orfevres, (1947). (There’s a small genre of noir films that rarely get screened, including the unique noir musical, Lang’s You and Me, which borrow from both the gangster films of the 30’s and the screwball comedies.) At the center was beautiful chanteuse Jenny Lamour, who teases men to distraction and to develop her career, but is a one-man woman, married to cute pudgy bald Maurice (totally my type). At one point she says “He’s my flame–he may not burn very brightly, but he lights the way…” Her photographer friend, Dora, is infatuated with her, and we become infatuated with the drop-dead beautiful Dora, but in the end, the inspector says to her, “We’re alike—when it comes to women, we’ll never have a chance…” elevating her to some unknown category of unattainable beautiful lesbians. I won’t tell you about the plot, because you should see it. Just delightful.