I was at the birthday party of Natalie Portman and Woody Allen, who was her dad. I'm not sure why I was there; I didn't know anybody, but at some point NP decided she wanted to hang out with me. Apparently the birthday parties of famous people run like a series of appearances and events requiring setup and execution, so she wanted some casual company and I, having no idea why I was there, obliged.

     There were times that she had to be places; in interim periods we wandered around the compound, which was stretched out along an ocean bluff. At some point we came upon a Woody Allen appearance and I met him and shook his hand and he regarded me warmly, like I was a friend of his daughter. He wasn't Woody Allen-like at all, like the anxiety is all put-on. He was smooth and confident. NP was anxious to leave, so we left.

     She was pretty pleasant to be around, and the first half of the dream was like hanging out with any fresh acquaintance whose age and interests and inclinations are fairly similar to your own. But over the course of the dream she exhibited more and more show-dog behavior. Like sometimes it seemed she assumed cameras were always on her, so she'd be constantly smiling and posing. And she was a little self-important, even accounting for the fact that there was this whole establishment built around her. I thought maybe it was lucky that we even had all this free time. Through the day though, she became increasingly jumpy and robotic, eventually suggesting to me on the bluffs boardwalk that afternoon:

     "Let's go up to my room. We have one hour before I have to be at the tent. If you come, you WILL get a disease, but it's just a minor one. I'm considered quite hot so you will probably come; even with the disease I think you'll find today is your lucky day."

     "What in the world are you talking about, Natalie Portman?" I asked. "Why are you talking to me like this, not like a real person? Aren't we like friends or something? And isn't today your birthday?! Don't you want to have a good time?!"
     "Look at that amazing swell!" I told her, nodding down at the ocean, which was casually rolling smooth grey foamy head-high barrels onto a fat sandbar. "It's some perfect surfing out there right now! You like surfing. At least let's go down there and look at it."

     She smiled kind of sadly, and her eyes flashed a little desperately, like she was realizing she had no idea what to do with herself.

     "I know!" she agreed, and then pounced on me with a long, warm kiss.

     "Hey, no, listen, Natalie Portman. Maybe today's a weird business day for you or something. Maybe we should try again tomorrow . Go get ready for the party, and I'll see you there tonight -- from the audience. Have a good time tonight, and then call me tomorrow and--"

     "--we can have a photo shoot?"

     And I said sure, but I didn't mean it. Photo shoots are fun, but of all things--a photo shoot? I didn't think I could ever get through to her. Natalie Portman and I were never going to be friends. In fact, this whole day and my presence in it had only been occasioned by this same twitchy, celebrity flightiness. Without it, I'd not even have been there.

     I went back to my room and on the way, the camera cut away to show me running down the boardwalk. I was a tall, blonde nerd with fat thighs and glasses with orange plastic frames. My voice played over the scene:
     "I really wanted to see Natalie Portman that evening, but the way everything turned out, I don't regret it. I met Marion, and she's perfect!"--
     --and I crashed full-on into a girl standing there on crutches. Then some jaunty piano music starts, and cut to me and the girl walking up some steps into a brownstone (like we live there), and turning to wink at the camera.

     Then I hear the dull bonk-rattle of a beer bottle hitting the floor, and I look in the row behind me and a lady there says "THAT'S IT?!! EBERT GAVE THAT SHIT THREE STARS?!! $8.50?! WALKED AWAY FROM THE PORTMAN GIRL FOR THAT GIRL CAN'T EVEN WALK? MUST BE GAY. SHIT."

     So that's the end.

     This dream wasn't much fun at all, and there's nothing really interesting about it except the end was kind of funny. Especially how I was big and blonde. WA was way more interesting in the dream than NP was, but neither of them seemed at all similar to their real life counterparts.
     All the perspective shifts (starting with the sudden onset of actual dialogue) occured at the end of the dream as I was getting closer to waking up. And the dream knew it was coming to an end because it mimicked the end of a movie. So it's funny that somewhere in there, I made sure to get myself kissed.


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