Dreams of the filmmaker in myself, Iran, and Michael Moore

Is the world of filmmaking a man's world? I am wrestling with my perception that film is a sector into which I have never gained entry.

In last night's dream, I was married to filmmaker Michael Moore. We butt heads like bears as a form of affection. We took a train ride to Iran where we met up with an underground rock band. They were an emblem of creative subversion.
I intended to give the group my bootleg copies of old cassettes (piracy was not the most troubling issue here) but suddenly the cultural police showed up and a female cop, looking more like NYPD, ran her hand through my uncovered hair. She asked to know why I didn't have on a head scarf. I told her that I wasn't Iranian. That seemed to suffice as an excuse for not having a head scarf.

In another dream with filmmakers. George Clooney and I had a conversation about filmmaking when he suddenly ascended a flight of stairs to a room where only men were allowed to enter.

Unleash the creative.