Night of March 1, 1973. Thursday.

In real life on this day, I am twelve years old and living in Cubitis. My mother tells me that the CBS late movie of this night is “The Night of the Iguana” (from 1964), which sounds interesting to me. I surmise that it is possibly some sort of monster movie or perhaps horror and probably takes place on a small island. I want to watch it, though it is on too late for a weeknight (though my mother allowed me to watch television on a school night if I had had a longer nap, though which I did not in this case), though apparently my mother is going to at least watch part of it and perhaps tell me a bit about it in case it is shown again on a night when it is possible for me to watch it. The television sits in the northeast corner of the living room and when I sleep (from about ten-thirty, the movie starting at eleven-thirty), I dream that the movie involves at least one cat-sized iguana that climbs people’s legs, due to supposedly mistaking human beings for trees, as I had read something of this nature somewhere in real life. One boy (about my age), in particular, needs to remain motionless in several scenes (where nothing happens otherwise).

My dreamed version seems to have no ending and my dream-self is not fully integrated into the setting. The next day in real life, I discovered that the movie (much to my puzzlement) was in fact a Richard Burton movie about a defrocked minister becoming a tour guide in Mexico and thus had nothing to do with people remaining motionless while an iguana roamed around - which of course, would not make for much of a movie anyway, as the in-dream events implied that whenever someone moved, the iguana would run to them and climb their leg, the person staying still until someone else in the outside area moved. (This was my first dream of the night before crossing over into the next day.)