I've been longing for tacos for over a week, so Mutsumi and I finally hooked it up last night with a homemade Mexican feast. I still find that good Mexican's the one food it's hard to get here in NYC. But last night's meal all stemmed from a dream I had. You see, last week I dreamt that my friend Mark Paniccia was lamenting leaving California and we were commiserating over teh fact there were no good Mexican joints or taquerias on the East Coast. But he'd heard rumor of an authentic place out in Jersey and drove me, Mike Marts and someone else there where we found this amazing buffet of Mexican food and fix-it-yourself tacos. I woke up craving Mexican.
Yeah, I dream a lot. And I usually remember most of what I dream about once I wake up. I'm one of those people who sleeps with a pad and pen by their bed and jot everything down. A lot of good (and plenty of wacky) story ideas have come from my dreams. I have notebooks filled with the stuff. Such is the blessing of an overactive dreamer, I guess. Common in all writers?
Last week I had this weird one where Andy Schmidt and Nick Lowe became auxilliary firefighters just so they could score free beer and sausage at the NYFD social functions. When they were accused of this, they flew in Brian Bendis to sign copies of Ultimate Spider-Man for kids at a charity fund raiser at a firemen's festival. I told you it gets weird...
I usually always dream in color, but once I had this incredible animated dream. I woke amazed!
And then there was the time I was eating fries with gravy at a diner with Jim Morrsion and James Dean. I even wrote down the entire conversation when I came to that morning. I have to dig it up!