(Entered in paper journal at 7:11 AM at Starbucks on 57th Street and 7th Avenue.)
Dream 1
I was supposed to meet my old boss PG, with a few other ladies, for breakfast. But I think I was late. I stood in a sunny park, on a cement path going up a slight but big hill. I was almost at the top.
Now I saw PG and her coworkers/friends coming. I stood by a bench. PG came up first and handed me a bag of "gifts," like I was leaving. She made comments about how I was a good worker but also how I wasn't incredible because I always let small stuff slide, such as being on time for this breakfast. Now I wasn't invited to the breakfast because I had been late for it.
I looked in the bag. There may have been a bag of potato chips. The biggest item was a can of paint with a wooden cap rounded like a polished gem and with three stripes of darkish mint-green paint. I wondered why I'd get a can of paint -- it seemed to reflect too bluntly (for a gift, anyway) the faults PG had pointed out in me. Plus, I didn't want this color on the walls of any place I moved to.
Showing posts with label constructive criticism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label constructive criticism. Show all posts
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Saturday, November 17, 2012
(9/12/09) script coach
(Entered in paper journal at 7:54 AM at Connecticut Muffin in Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I was somewhere with a very pretty, tan-skinned girl with long, black hair. We may have been in a room on a ground floor, which had a wide door-wall open to something like a summery courtyard.
The girl had read through my screenplay. She thought the story was good. She said she was going to re-write the script, though, on her own. She scrolled through the screenplay from the end backwards. The end of the screenplay was full of writing, as if the characters gave nothing but monologues, which filled the pages. As the play progressed backwards, the monologues/dialogues may have tapered off a bit.
The woman began speaking to me about some of the elements of the screenplay, as if she expected me to go write the play or parts of the play, though she was still thinking of herself as having written the whole play (even though she said she was going to re-write it, not that she had already re-written it). The things the woman said were very interesting. They possibly had something to do with efficiency.
I saw a small pond in the sunlight. A little turtle plopped up to the surface of the water and then dove back down.
Dream #1
I was somewhere with a very pretty, tan-skinned girl with long, black hair. We may have been in a room on a ground floor, which had a wide door-wall open to something like a summery courtyard.
The girl had read through my screenplay. She thought the story was good. She said she was going to re-write the script, though, on her own. She scrolled through the screenplay from the end backwards. The end of the screenplay was full of writing, as if the characters gave nothing but monologues, which filled the pages. As the play progressed backwards, the monologues/dialogues may have tapered off a bit.
The woman began speaking to me about some of the elements of the screenplay, as if she expected me to go write the play or parts of the play, though she was still thinking of herself as having written the whole play (even though she said she was going to re-write it, not that she had already re-written it). The things the woman said were very interesting. They possibly had something to do with efficiency.
I saw a small pond in the sunlight. A little turtle plopped up to the surface of the water and then dove back down.
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