"Cigarettes Will Kill You" Ben Lee

My dream from just a few hours ago:

I.
I was on an overground train in New York. I'm sitting next to Natalie Portman. I want to talk to her, but I don't because I don't want her to think I'm a stalker. She smiles at me and begins to get up. I shift my knees to let her pass. I notice strange wide shoulders underneath that white sweater. She bows her head as she walks through the car, searching for a bathroom. While she's taking a piss, I write a poem.

All I can remember is that the first line includes the word "louse."

II.
I am suddenly underneath a television in the middle of this train, watching a Natalie Portman music video. But it is my poem she is singing and she's added a horrible line to the end . Did Natalie Portman just steal my poem? Why would she do this? She seemed perfectly capable of writing her own music when she appeared on Bravo's Inside the Actor's Studio. I wait for the video to end where it shows writing and producing credits. I run back to my seat. She's there with her svengali manager, who is dressed in a tight faded t-shirt.

"Why didn't you attribute this poem to me? I wrote that."

She just turns and smiles at me.

Cunt.

I begin to invade her physial space. I use my forearm to block her attempts to escape. I believe I also choked her.

III.
I am no longer angry with Natalie Portman, in fact we are walking the streets of New York City and are passing through a park. Snow has recently fallen and my Salomon shoes are not the right shoes. I wonder to myself if I brought boots. The snow gets through the shoe an melts in my socks. I say, "Hey, what's that? It's so beautiful." There is a black pinecone on one of the trees, but it is abuzz with small specks of golden light. She agrees that it's beautiful. There are golden specks of light everywhere.