Bits of three recent broken dreams from different nights:

1) I'm in my bathroom staring at myself in the mirror, and I have (shockingly white) (deeply bleached-blonde) hair; and

2) I'm walking around the one (Thai) restaurant where I work now, singing Joni Mitchell's "Carey," and somehow it's a karaoke situation, only somehow it's just me there, with no microphone or anything, and there is no backing track playing; and

3) I am outside my body and looking at myself reading a magazine languidly and flipping pages (and then I jolt out of sleep and I realize that although I was supposed to be reading the magazine in my dream, the me that I was staring at was flipping the pages in the wrong direction than you would in reality).

. . .