Peter Ustinov's Extreme Makeover

UstyThe following is a draft that I never posted to my old blog, but wanted to share now.  It’s just a strange dream I had.  After you read it, you may realize why I never posted it before.  No real point.  Just…odd.  I wrote this on August 24, 2007…


I had a really bizarre dream last night. Well, this morning, really. I have a lot of dreams…many of them are strange, a handful have been God-dreams. This one was just pretty crazy. It started out as a sort of Trading Spaces/What Not To Wear/Extreme Makeover kind of show. I was the host, and the premise of the show was to have three different teams of about five people in each team, and they had to create a work of art, within certain parameters they were given at the top of the show. In this episode, one team had to do a complete paint job and paint detail to a new (Dodge Ram?) pickup truck. They did a very nice job, too, I might add. The second group was to write a short play and perform it…and I can’t, for the life of me, remember the third group’s task. Sorry. (What a let-down, huh?) It doesn’t really matter.

Then my dream switched gears and cut to a dramatic presentation by Sir Peter Ustinov at a round kitchen table. A solioquy. I don’t remember what he said, but it was MOST CERTAINLY Peter Ustinov, and it was VERY well acted (because…it was Peter Ustinov). He was playing this sort of really old, unusual character (not Poirot). Interestingly enough, little Niamhy was in the scene, too, and he was speaking to her (but, as she is only a baby and doesn’t speak, apart from the baby ventriloquism act we do, it was definitely a solioquy).

Then the whole thing broke into song and turned into a huge musical adventure, a la the Family VonTrapp in The Sound of Music. Ustinov was gone, the show was gone…strike the set! New scenery!

Break out your “meaning of dreams” book, Marianne! I think we may need it.

I have mostly really unusual, imaginitive dreams. I know some people say they don’t dream at all…I often wonder about that. Is it true they simply don’t dream? Or do they not remember having dreamt because they didn’t dream just before waking? Or was the dream they had just before waking just very dull? I don’t know. But I wonder.

I want to have more God-dreams, though. I have some, but I want more. That’s my favorite way that God speaks to me. I think it’s because of my love of art and poetry. It’s just the way I receive things best…visual pictures and impressions, song, vividly detailed poetic speech. The kind of things my own imagination couldn’t possibly come up with in my waking hours.


(weird, huh?)


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