Stacey, I love the fact that his head was in your lap. That seems to have happened to me in a dream or two... like with Martin Gore (Depeche Mode) or my science teacher. It is so crazy. What is it with the head in the lap?
Is it okay if I hijack this into another recent-dreams thread and describe a dream I had, actually a good few weeks ago? I wrote it down in an email when it was fresh:
Somehow, somehow, Jake came to my apartment. This apartment was unlike my house, but very similar to that of Jessica Lange's character in Tootsie. Jake must have been doing some kind of publicity stunt, going to a fan's house to sign her pretty glossy BBM fan book. What was supposed to be a brief visit got longer and longer. I was trying to spin it out, charming him, making him laugh as much as I could, showing him that I wasn't a total starstruck boob... I was succeeding quite well -- it was so exciting. Although he was still not entirely settled in for a long afternoon on my couch which would then perhaps lead to an evening of sushi or Indian food, he was kind of reluctantly happy shooting the breeze with me. There were, by the way, no cameras or bodyguards or publicists or handlers or anything. Just him. The final thing that happened, before I awoke and resolved to keep this dream in my head and warm the day with it, was this -- and it requires a tangent denoted by a new paragraph:
Now, in real life, I'm a bit of a sculptress. Are you familiar with Fimo, or Sculpey? It's a low-temperature-baking modelling compound. (An oven at 350 does the trick, as opposed to a serious kiln.) Well, I make little people out of this material. Well, from about 1998-2000 I made them. They lie, sit, clutch themselves, clutch each other, hold hands, embrace erotically on occasion... in short, try with their wistful gestures and yearning bodies to express the inexpressible. A larger-scale plan was to make a whole nativity scene -- I made Mary, a little squiggly Jesus, a Joseph (who, tellingly, is unable to kneel on his own and can only do so when braced against Mary), one wise man, a couple of adoring shepherds, two sheep and a cat. The cat is a little miracle -- I don't know how I did it but it's just the cutest little tiny meatloaf of a tucked-in cat. The sheep, too, are miraculous -- I don't know how they happened and I'm so proud of them. I doubt if lightning could strike twice -- they're probably the best and only little sheep sculptures I'll ever make. Okay so..... I'm getting back round to the dream. Ready?
So... the last thing I did in my fun, smart couch-sit with Jake Gyllenhaal (back in the dream) was to go get my tiny sheep and show them to him. I don't know if the subject had come up somehow, or how I remembered that I had something sheep-related that I could possibly show him. But I did. His response to my two little sheep: he was deeply moved by them, unto TEARS. It was actually kind of uncomfortable for me. Of course I was absolutely thrilled that I had connected with him somehow. But we were suddenly much more intimate than I had expected. He thanked me heartily, profusely, for sharing my sheep.
He didn't put his head in my lap, though.