Gashed actor

I meet a black guy named Dave or David. I think we met by having a car accident with each other at the bottom of my street [actually the street where I lived for ten years, but moved from about three years ago]. He says he will be so delayed by the accident, that he might as well just stay here. He asks if he can spend the night at my apartment. I agree.

It is night in my apartment. [It doesn't look like my actual apartment or any place I've ever lived. It looks more like a hotel room.] Sometimes it seems like there are two beds, and sometimes there is one big bed that we are sharing. The blankets are in disarray, and they keep getting moved around. Then Hugh Laurie is there. I am an actress on House, so I know him from work. [Obviously not true in reality.] Laurie and I are sharing one bed, and David is in the other bed. I ask Laurie if he would like a blowjob. He declines. I ask him several more times in different ways throughout the night. He is not interested. Finally he says he is going home. I am uncomfortable with the thought of being alone in the apartment with the stranger David. I whisper to Laurie please to make sure David leaves before Laurie goes. Laurie gets David to leave. Laurie is lying in the bed. Maybe I proposition him again. He shouts in pain and jumps up. I see two gashes in his back, one maybe two inches across halfway down the left side of the back, and another a little smaller a bit lower on the right side of the back. Internal parts protrude through the gashes, especially through the larger gash. The protrusions are like oblong strips coated in dark red blood. A few strips are a light yellow; they resemble wide flat rubber bands. I ask what happened and Laurie says he stabbed himeslf.
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I am with my parents in the town of E. [My mother grew up and her mother lived her entire life in the town of E, about thirty minutes away from the town of W where I grew up and my parents still live.] We are in town for some sort of big function which is starting in a couple of hours. We are at some pre-party associated with the later event. Everyone is dressed quite formally, but I am wearing plain pants and a white sweater [a sweater that I actually own]. I didn't bring any other clothes. I want to go buy a dress, or go back to W to get the one dress I own that fits me. My mother has gone into a changing room to dress for the big party. I go to the door of the changing room to tell her I have one dress in W and I want to go back to get it. She says "M?" [the name of my eighteen-year-old male cousin] and moves away from the door as she is not fully clothed. I tell her no, it's me, and go into the room with her. It is quite a large room, and other women also are getting ready in there. My mother tells me I have to have more clothes that fit me. I tell her I have a size sixteen dress in W, I don't want to buy any more large clothes. I tell her I am not a size sixteen, meaning in my self-concept I am not a size sixteen. I say, I am a size-- but before I can complete the sentence a guy standing there says "a size two?" [How absurd. I never have been a size two in my life!] "I'm a size eight," I say, which is the size I want to get back to, the size I still am in my mind.

*****

The main gist of the second dream, my mother nagging me to buy more clothes in my current size and my resisting, is so mundane it might as well actually have happened. There are some points I could explore (why my mother confused me for M, why the male stranger suggested I was a size two), but I prefer to focus on the first dream.

Hugh Laurie's appearance in this dream is easily explicable. I watched this week's episode of House last evening (thanks to the magic that is DVR), and just before I fell asleep I was thinking of Sherlock Holmes (the creators of House deliberately included in the series many similarities to the world of Sherlock Holmes), so no mystery there. It may be notable though that in the dream Hugh Laurie did not speak in his normal voice but in an American accent, even though in the dream he was Hugh Laurie and not House. It seems I may have conflated Laurie and House somewhat in this dream.

The other night I was quite drunk in a bar. While talking flirtatiously with a stranger there the topic turned to "celebrities I have blown." It is not an impressive list, and Hugh Laurie definitely-- and unfortunately-- is not on it. But it does get the subject of blow jobs into my recent thoughts.

Who is David? I don't know anyone named David, nor any black men. Nor have I been in any car accident recently.

In a previous post I described my lifelong intention to become a performing artist, and my recent pragmatic decision to focus on writing instead. In this dream, Hugh Laurie-- an actor and a pretty good musician-- rejects me over and over; I feel I have been rejected by my chosen profession. Also in this dream, an actor has been stabbed in the back-- by himself. Perhaps I feel a self-betrayal in giving up my performance aspirations.