Once dreamed of Brando

An actual dream I had about 3 years ago, found recently in a notebook


Marlon Brando came into my dream and wow, the amount of disgust in his eyes! It was near unbearable having him bear down on me at the foot of my bed. I was like “Marlon…! Say Something! Speak!” Nothing came out of his mouth, he just stood there all stone faced. Was this part of my psyche judging some decision I had recently made? My bed was in a warehouse somewhere in New Jersey. I guess I knew this because I saw relevant highway signs from the window. After this persistent stare down, Brando hopped from the 5 story building into a black limousine. He eloquently dropped into the moon roof and was quickly whisped away. As if this Brando figure was some kind of alien encounter, however the alien clearly coming in the form of a recognizable pop figure. The dream has not since repeated.

Swinton the Scorpio

Saw hypnotic visions of Tilda Swinton, bouncing through my brain as I tripped out on a bagel, soaked with high quality CannaButter. Tilda in some fancy, $2000 maroon flavored dress, arm and arm with me in some royal 15th century Scottish castle. A fire pit, at least 15 feet in length, burning tirelessly, seemingly for the last 100 years. Constantly throughout this night time reverie, her off world eyes hold my attention with focused determination. This stare engulfed in some carnal longing, a longing that she is never ashamed to express around me. A longing that could be expressed by a newly found passionate wife, so eager to please and eager to express her love, that as her knight may be entering this castle. her mind races as to the quickest way to meet him and throw her moist lips around his royal shaft.

Then later on that same night, in reality, I came across a lower income, heavier version of Tilda. Red hair and similar eyes, however this was an interesting bout of synchronicity to happen within a few hours. Cannabutter reverie meets quarter pounder with cheese nowness, kind of a downer. Tilda Swinton! What a perfect name, that of a sleek bird, gracefully appearing in marijuana induced haze smoke. “What family of bird is that from? It’s actually from the family Swinton and that particular breed is the Tilda Secundas.” I’m no bird lover, but you get the idea.

It’s really about her androgyonous looks, hair, alien eyes, eyes set to infinity, that disarms me. Her look doesn’t really get me horny or overboard in that way, it’s more a human fascination. Not necessarily attractive in the American model that has dominated for the last 50 years or so.  A beauty of attraction built on the fringes of our own galaxy, 100 years of its time, so hard to decode and understand. But I and many others I’m sure have this tingle in their soul over what future beauty may end up looking like.