rm | ah, end of the world dreams

Stupid dream time again.

This time I was up on some space station rehearsing something or other when our president launched about 50 missiles at something or other. I saw them, out the window of the space station, and I whispered about it to someone on the crew, saying "you know, the show must go on and all that, but I really think you should let the director know."

The crew member does, and soon thereafter we're all watching TV broadcasts about it, and then finding out that all the space stations will be shut down and go to emergency power, forcing us to emergency evacuuate, because the president refuses to leave targets in space. My mother of course calls me hysterical from her place of work.

But not leaving targets in space means we're on our own to evacuate and we somehow manage to crash land the thing in the middle of second avenue without dying (this is a long vivid sequence filled with suspense up until the last moment that of course also manages to tear the concrete on second avenue the fuck up).

Then we're at my parents house. Liev Schreiber's on the kitchen phone calling his mom to tell her he's not dead. I say something inane along the lines of "look, I probably shouldn't make this offer without talking to them," I say randomly gesticulating to mean my parents who aren't there, "but if you need to crash or use the shower or anything, go for it."

He laughs, in the way you do when nothing is really funny, and says thanks noting that since he's covered in stage make-up, fake tattoos and a shitload of dirt from that crash landing business, that might be a good idea. Besides, Metro North isn't running. End of the world and all that.

I ask him if it was weird. He asks what I mean by "it." Being in the midde of actually acting (apparently, I'm an extra in space too) when it happened. He smirks a little, "I think the missiles we're pretty weird regardless."

"Right," I say, a bit embarassed and nod, and tell him where the towels are.