OK, this probably won’t be the most eloquently written post, but I had a very strange dream last night and needed a place to record it for posterity. So without further ado:
I went to a local bar (Fermentation Lounge for those who know Tallahassee) with Chris, but at some point, he disappeared and my mother was there. The bartender kept giving me the wrong drink, but I finally got the right one (white sangria — yum!). He probably was confused because I ordered white wine, which wasn’t what I wanted.
So, I’m sitting with my mother and this couple — a blond woman and a really obnoxious man — sat down with us, the man on my side of the booth. The man kept trying to lay on me and touch me and was just altogether inappropriate. The woman knew my mother, but my mother didn’t recognize her right away. She turned out to be someone my mother worked with at a hospital in Elmira (she never said her name in the dream, though). We moved to another booth to get away from the man and then my cell phone rang.
It was Madonna.
Apparently, some time ago, I’d met Madonna and we’d talked and exchanged numbers, but never reconnected. She’d forgotten she met me and someone was stalking her and her children and she was calling every number in her phone asking if the person was the stalker. I was not the stalker, but we proceeded to talk for a couple hours, with me advising Madonna on how to keep her children safe from this possible stalker. They were in a hotel. That, somehow, made a difference.
At some point during my phone call, everyone left the bar and I was by myself walking down the street. Still talking to Madonna, I passed the Pope riding a bicycle down the sidewalk. He smiled at me and gushed about how since he’d started riding his bike, his cholesterol had dropped several points.
And that’s all I remember.