Eat Your Heart Out, Matthew Wilder

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?”

“What?”

“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