Soylent Green! It's Dana*

Okay. I have two extremely strange dreams to share with you. I try not to do a lot of dreams on this site because I know that not everyone cares. But the odder ones? Yeah, you get to hear about them. And if you don’t care, that’s cool. I’m cool if you skip them. But you know that someday there could be the official recognition of me as Queen of the Universe and, as a fun activity at the coronation, there could be a test. Wouldn’t you feel silly if this was on it?

Dream Number One – AKA Perhaps Dana needs a boyfriend

I forgot to mention last week, in my tale of karaoke gone wild, that Char and Tom wanted to see my badly misspelled tattoo. We had a good laugh over the fact that my former tattoo artist could not spell baby and I am permanently engraved (well, engraved is the wrong word but you know what I mean) with the words “Grooby, Yeah Babby.”

At the end of the evening, I started walking towards the door but Beth, Char and Tom were still talking to Bryan. Beth called me over and told me to show Bryan my tattoo. Being the modest woman I am, I frowned over baring (partially) my breast to my karaoke host. I mean, honestly, what would that say about me? You know, of course, that I am just kidding. Show off my tattoo in a bar? Okay. Breast is at the ready. In fact, I even posed while he took a picture of it with his camera. Meanwhile, Beth, who likes to cause trouble, calls across the bar to Liz.

Beth: Hey, Liz, just so you know, there is a reason why Bryan is taking a picture of Dana’s breast.
Liz: Uh, Dana, we’re going to have to fight now. Let’s step outside.

She raises her fists in a jokingly menacing manner.

Beth: No, no, she’s showing him her misspelled tattoo.
Liz (Laughing): Your tattoo is misspelled? That’s great!

She indicates that she condones the photography session. If I was smart, I would take a picture of this and post it so you could see it for yourself. If anything, it makes a good story and, at one time, won me the nickname Babs (didn’t stick).

I had mentioned in the post that I had seen a guy that intrigued me and that night I had a strange dream. The dream started out the same way as our end of the evening. I was headed towards the door while Beth, Char and Tom were talking to Bryan. The attractive gentleman was standing by the door. We had a brief conversation.

Attractive Gentleman (AG): Hi. I really enjoyed your singing. You have a beautiful voice.
DM: Thank you.
AG: I would love to take you home.
DM: Okay (Turn to Beth). Beth, I’m going home with this guy. Okay?
Beth: Okay.

AG and I leave together. We suddenly end up in my room, which now appears to be outside and in a tent. AG (who is either named William or Warren (for those of you who think I didn’t bother to get his name first, I did, I just don’t remember what it is (Beth informed me that she doesn’t like the name Warren so he is now known as William))), I mean William, and I are making out in a feverish frenzy.

This was a very tactile dream. I remember what it felt like to run my fingers through his hair (soft, a little spiky because it was short), what type of kisser he was (I have a theory that you can tell how good someone will be in bed by the way they kiss and believe me, William would have been spectacular. Perfect amount of pressure on the lips, just enough tongue, no Sheep Dog kisses (kisser opens mouth, attempts to swallow kissee’s face), how it felt to have him lying on top of me (fully clothed, thank you. And my, he had nice shoulders), etc.

The next thing I know is that I wake up, still in the dream. William is gone. Oops. I kind of fell asleep. Waaaaay conducive for romance, don’t you agree?

Suddenly it is the next Sunday. There are now red curtains across the stage at The Chalet. They slowly part and Bryan is standing there, spotlight upon him (I know. When did they get the spotlight? Weird). He looks at me.

Bryan: So, Dana. Did you forget something?

Suddenly the spotlight is shining on me. I am freaking out. What did I forget? Am I not wearing clothing? Is my checkbook unbalanced? What could it be?

Bryan: Here’s a tip. Don’t fall asleep on guys. It gives them a complex.

I turn to Beth, horrified that she had told Bryan about my faux pas. She reassures me that she hadn’t told him. Bryan goes on to explain that William is a very good friend of his and, even though I couldn’t keep my eyes open, he is interested and wants to see me again. The whole bar starts laughing at me. I am blustering in my defense that I work days, people.

I wake up, right before William walks in the door. I have not yet dreamt of him again but I would love to revisit this. It was all the fun of having a boyfriend without any of the work.

Dream Number Two – AKA This is not as obscene as you would think

After a long, long involved dream that had three acts, two that really made absolutely no sense at all (except for the amusing part where Beth and I went on a journey to see Matt and his family, including the five year old Matt Junior, only to discover that he had become born again, had married and he and his wife were hosting a religious program (this is amusing because Matt and I have very different views about religion and the thought of him hosting a gospel hour is pretty hilarious)), the 3rd act took place in a diner in the South.

Beth and I are in the diner and there are three men sitting near us. One of them starts up a conversation with us. He introduces himself as George Clooney but he is dressed the way Tom Hanks was dressed in The Ladykillers. You know, the classic Southern Gentleman suit in white, the curly mustache, etc. I have no idea who the 2nd guy was but the 3rd one was Alan Ruck and, as he began to introduce himself to me, I was all agog and gushed “Oh, I know who you are! I loved you in Star Trek: Generations!”

Yes, George Clooney is there and I’m fawning all over Cameron from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Anyway, George (“Call me George,” he says in his debonair Southern accent) starts hitting on me and Beth gets, uncharacteristically, ticked off. If this happened in real life, Beth would be thrilled with this and encouraging me to go out with George, instead of sulking over the fact that he asked me out to dinner and hissing “I can’t believe he likes YOU over ME.”

A little time goes by and I start pounding on the door of our motel room. Beth pulls open the door, still pissed. We have the following conversation:

Beth (B): What are you doing back? Why aren’t you with GEORGE?
DM: Look, I’m sorry he asked me out but believe me, you’d be glad it wasn’t you.
B: Oh, sure. I bet he was a horrible date.
DM: Beth. He tried to eat me.
B: And you’re complaining?
DM: No, I mean he tried to EAT me.

I hold out my arm as evidence. There is a bite mark in it. Apparently, when George was issuing the invitation to dinner, he forgot to mention that I was the main course.

Only I could have this dream. I get alone with George Clooney and he wants me…as a food source.

*Hey, I was strapped for a title. What did you want me to call this? Dreams? How boring would that be?