There I was, standing on a windswept coast. My first thought was this: “Did I actually just describe this as a windswept coast? I’ve been reading WAAAAAY too much George R.R. Martin.”
My second thought was, “Oh. This is a DREAM. Cool.”
My third thought, since it was MY dream after all, was to look down and think “DAMN, I look good.” Because, let’s face it, if you can’t look like a goddess in your own dreams, what IS the point?
Now. Having established that I was dreaming and looking like a babe, I had to wonder, what am I doing here? The coast line – which was indeed windswept – was barren. The beach was made of rocks. They looked angry, and as though they wouldn’t be fun to step on with my bare and chilly (but nicely pedicured – I’m telling you, I looked GREAT – feet). The sky and sea were grey.
“How come I never dream about being in St Bart,” I wondered as I began to pick my way to the nearest sheltering tree. (There were trees. Did I mention that? Big ones.) “Seriously.”
Then out of nowhere, a handsome man appeared.
Well, that’s not quite true.
He drove up in a Jeep. I may have been dressed as a medieval (barefoot) princess, but since I’m afraid of horses, the handsome knights in my dream? Drive Jeeps. Yes, I know it’s weird. Don’t judge. Or, you know, go ahead. That’s fun too.
The handsome man leapt out of the vehicle, ran to me, and said …
… “Did you call me?”
“I think I missed your call.” He showed me the display of his cell phone. I had definitely called him. There was my name, on the missed call readout. This was amazing for multiple reasons, but mostly because I didn’t have a phone. Or a pocket in my lovely (but I was quickly realizing, useless and chilly) dress in which to KEEP a phone.
“I don’t remember calling you,” I said.
This displeased the handsome fella. “Fine,” he said, and stomped off. He got into the Jeep, which promptly began to slide down a cliff (which, I must say, I hadn’t noticed prior to the sliding and rolling of the Jeep), which FREAKED ME OUT. Because the handsome fella? Is a friend of mine when I’m awake (and usually not that snotty about missed calls, I don’t think.)
“NOOOOOOOO!” I yelled. I started to run after him, which was super difficult in flowing skirts and no shoes. “I wish I had pants on,” I said, and then remembered – this was MY dream. Suddenly I WAS wearing pants and shoes. (Of course, since it was my dream, my butt looked awesome in these pants, which fit perfectly and were good for climbing down cliffs, which I then did.)
When I got to the bottom, the handsome fella – we’ll call him Bob – looked sad. “I thought I was supposed to rescue you,” he said. “But you keep rescuing yourself.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m not sorry.”
“But I love you!”
“Oh. Huh,” I said. “You know, I did not see that coming.”
“Really?” he said. “Because … this is YOUR dream.”
That’s when I woke up.
I need to stop reading before bed, I think.
(And I'm embedding this because it's so bad that it's good...)
You can also watch it here