Movies, Art, Fashion, and a Machine Gun

Last night's dream started as a movie...
I was John Cusack and I was with a young Dan Aykroyd in a two-seater plane. We were laughing and talking about girls and sex.
The view changed and I was out of the movie and sitting in the theater with my husband. We got up to leave and I mentioned to him that I had forgotten to go see Laurelin's show. (A friend of mine just had her first solo art show up at a gallery, and I did forget to go "opening" night.) So I walked over with him to a gymnasium where the show was. (It was the gym from my HS.) Her art was everywhere. It was like a life time of art; hundreds of pieces. I started on the wall to my right where there was a nautical theme going on. Perfect paintings of boats and wharfs (not her "norm"). I was commenting on one when her fiance David told me there was another wing that held her crafts. (She is a knitter and crafter as well... when the mood strikes.) So I walked over to that wing and looked behind glass at dolls and jewelry and buttons and other crafty things she had made (again, not her "norm".)
Then the scene changed and I was going to visit my friend Ramin in New York. I got to his apartment and started working on patterns on his floor. I was waiting for him to get home, but in the mean time I had taken at least 8 articles of clothing and was tracing them on to dotted pattern paper. They were all ugly clothes, very matronly. The idea was that I was going to try to get a job back at the St. John's design house(where Ramin and I worked after we graduated college). He came home and asked what I was doing. He looked over the clothes and my work and told me I was doing it all wrong. He said the clothes were hideous, and that my pattern tracing skills were terrible. "Don't you remember anything from school?" he asked. He then stormed off. The scene changed again and I was in the bed of a truck with all of the pattern making equipment and my luggage. Ramin was walking away from me down the NY street. I jumped out of the truck and went to him begging him to help me. We stood by a car and talked for a brief minute and then I saw a man jump in the truck bed and start to load up my stuff. I ran back to stop him, but he had a machine gun and pointed it at my face. I still yelled at him, saying, "That's my stuff, how dare you take it!" Ramin yelled my name, "Are you crazy?" he asked. Then I grabbed the machine gun that was at my face and turned it to face the man. Ramin again said, "Are you crazy? If you shoot him you'll be the one in trouble." But I shot at his arm anyway. Nothing... just air. So I aimed the gun at the yard beside me and shot again... just air. Then I reprimanded the man in the truck, "You were going to steal my stuff with an unloaded weapon?" I was still yelling at him when the dog woke me up.

This dream has loads of guilt in it.
Things that are bothering me that I keep replaying in my head.
That I still watch ill-humored movies, that I forgot Laurelin's show, that I screwed up the pattern for my daughter's Halloween costume cause I don't remember how to make sleeves. (I haven't done them since college.) It even has a bit from the book I'm reading called "Son of Hamas" where the machine guns he bought didn't work. The chapters in the book since that moment have filled me with guilt because I relate to the Israeli side, and they have kept the writer of the book in a prison torturing him for the past few chapters. (A true story... good book.)
The truck bed I'm sure has to do with me driving my husband's truck the other day to pick up my son's bike. (I don't drive it often... it's too big.)
Ramin is always put in my dreams when there is advice about my fashion career, because he is a person I will listen to. I think he stayed in the dream for the machine gun part because he is originally from Iran... which fits the setting of my book, at least in that neck of the world.
I think that the part about Laurelin's art not being "her's", was about myself as well. I used her in the dream because she is one artist I know that has a very common theme through her work so it's easy to see when it's not coming from 'her'. Most likely this was a reminder to me to be true to myself... which was also emphasized by the horrible clothes I was tracing... They were SO not me. :)