Good afternoon, Thursday. I cancelled about ten things today because I'm so slammed at work and can barely see straight. I've been talking a lot lately about the whole work/life balance thing being, oh, I don't know, slightly weighted to favor work for most of us. And with no end in sight and no sand beneath my toes any time soon, one is prone to some odd behavior. For me, work stress is an almost guarantee for classic anxiety dreams that speak very clearly to my current work/work/more work life. I have always had very vivid dreams, but the work ones are always good for a huge sigh of relief when I wake up to face another day.
So the night before last I dreamt that I was trapped in this weird hovercraft/helicopter thing that had no doors, with my creative team and photographer and producer. We took a regular flight to London for a shoot and the producer thought the best thing was to charter a helicopter to slowly take us across Europe. As we inched our way through some funky part of the UK, I quietly asked just how long we were due to be on this odd little plane. "10 1/2 hours to destination", said my producer, as we hovered over the night skies of Europe. I shit you not. This happened while the rest of you were dreaming about Ryan Gosling or puppies or cheesecake.
At this point, my creatives completely tore me apart over this slow ride to hell, and that "nobody likes you, because you are way too nice to Tara. And you need to stop that right now, because everybody hates Tara, and that makes them hate you too". (Ask me who Tara is. I haven't the slightest).
As they continued to assassinate my character, I promptly had them land the helicopter in an alley and said "Fuck you", and "you" and "you". I pointed to each of them as I said it. And then I bailed. Oh, and then I woke up. Sweating, but relieved that this was only a dream.
This is what happens as a producer when it is hard to shut off your dumb little producer brain. I find I make shit up in my dreams that doesn't even really exist. Sure it's imaginative and amusing, but disturbing nonetheless. Can a girl just get a little peace while she's trying to catch some sleep? Jesus.
The good news is with production work, there's always an end in sight, it just takes some doing to get there. Next week I'll be in San Fran all fa la fucking la on my shoot, loving everyone for how awesome they are. But right now, I'm hoping my dreams tonight are not tainted by alternative modes of transportation and expletive laden exchanges, and that's that. I've got to jet because there are a million balls to be bounced, emails to return, things to make happen.
Cause that's what's up this well worked Thursday in the 212. Yours, in sweet dreams (please). XO