I CAN'T WAKE UP!
  -- Barbara Stanwyck in "The Night Walker"
   
  One night, very recently I decided to make myself
  up like Joan Crawford (what a surprise!) before I went to sleep.
  Clutching Joan's Oscar and her very own script for "Mildred
  Pierce," I drifted off to dreamland.
  
  I did not dream I was in my Maidenform bra, but I
  did fancy that I was drifting down a deserted Melrose Avenue
  in Hollywood. There, I noticed in a shop window a picture of
  myself disguised as Joan Crawford.
  
  That made sense, but the photo of myself as Gloria
  Swanson was confusing.
  
  Equally odd was the likeness, in the third shop window,
  of myself as Dovima.
  
  As I drew closer, I saw that I, Lypsinka/Dovima, was
  on the cover of Vogue!
  
  The pages of the publication opened and I felt myself
  tumbling into the magazine like Alice moving through the looking
  glass. I fell onto the stage at the Roxy as the crowd screamed
  and I spun like a top, all the time wearing an Anthony Wong creation
  made to look like a Girl Scout gone bad from drinking Chanel
  No. 5.
  
  As I spun like mad, the green of my ensemble morphed
  into the greenery of Central Park, and the camera of my dream
  pulled back to reveal me dressed in Joan Crawford's very own
  wig (from the cover of her brilliant book "My Way Of Life")
  and caftan, and holding Suzanne Farrell's mother's poodle.
  
  The camera pulled even higher into the heavens and
  I gained the epiphany of realizing that Joan Crawford isn't God;
  Agnes Moorehead is!!
  
  I roused myself from my dreamlike state and was grateful
  to find that the two sailors for whom I am providing scholarships
  were still in the next room!
  
  
    
      photos by Hugh Halestooke, Albert Sanchez, Remsen
      Wolf, John Epperson and Brian Theis 
      
    
    
    Son of Trog
    Oscar Madness