I had a dream last night. Here's a rundown of the basic content, all of which made PERFECT sense to me in the dream:
1. My parents had a huge house on the water somewhere that was a separate house but was on a resort-type property and there was a clubhouse/meeting room building.
2. I was unmarried, about 10-12 years younger, and still lived at home as did my college-aged brother.
3. The band REM, whom I have loved since high school, was playing at the clubhouse.
4. Michael Stipe, the singer of the band, wanted me to pretend for the night that I was his girlfriend. We made out. It was GREAT.
5. Michael Stipe was heterosexual.
6. My parents were hosting a huge dinner party the following night (the concert/make out session was on Saturday) for our extended family at the house.
7. I was searching all morning on Sunday for an empty 2 liter soda bottle in the house.
8. My brother Brian was a Division 1 college basketball star and a fan of his was staying at the resort and wanted my dad to get a note to him that was somehow filled with his playing statistics. I saw the note in the dream.
9. Michael Stipe wanted to see me again after their Sunday concert at the clubhouse.
10. At 2pm on Sunday, I asked my mom if I could go to the clubhouse and hang out with the band (and hopefully suck face again with Michael) until 6pm when the dinner started.
Now here's where the dream gets improbable: my mom says to me, "Sure, go ahead, honey... just be back by this time tomorrow."
THAT is the part I can't believe. I'm even incredulous (No 'you have to stay and help me out'? No 'The whole family is going to be here... don't you want to see them' ? No 'I don't know who this Michael Stipe is'?" I can go? Overnight? No questions asked?) in the dream and can't believe my good luck. I gather up my empty soda bottle, start heading out, absolutely relishing the idea of another make out session with my new- pretend boyfriend, and a little hand taps me on my hip and I hear a little voice say, "Mommy... I wanna nursie. Get up."
Ohhh... the cold, hard slap of reality.
Until we meet again, Michael Stipe. Until we meet again.
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3 comments:
Anyone who has seen my jumpshot is going to say that you've got a better chance of making out with Michael Stipe than I do of being a D 1 hoops star. D 1 hoops is filled with 5'11 wide bodies who can't shoot, dribble and play D. ~Bubs~
Awesome... just awesome!!! Hope Dan doesn't mind being called "Michael" all day today, as you relish that dream!
Wish you could hear me laughing! All the way from MI! Yours and my dreams are the wackiest imaginable! I will think about this all day AND I don't even KNOW who Michael Stipe is! Also, that's IT-Daddy and I are NOT buying a waterfront property! Love, Mommy
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