Tag Archives: dream

a dream is a wish your heart makes.

9 Aug

Last night I dreamt I was ridiculously in love with Jon Stewart which, okay, sounds pretty much like every day of my life, but there was so much more to it than that.

The first half of the dream I was just a fan of his, and along with a bunch of other fans we were trying to get fan mail to him. I slightly remember ending up in the same car (or train car) as him for some reason (there is the distinct possibility I was a creeper and stalked him), but I don’t really remember the purpose of that plot point at all.

Then the dream gets fuzzy, and I don’t really remember what happened in the middle of it. Suddenly I’m attending Jon Stewart’s wedding to Beyonce (I don’t even know where that came from). I guess at this point him and I had become good friends, since he had invited me, and everyone at the wedding was trying to cheer me up because they knew how I felt about him. The wedding was taking place in this fancy, schmancy, ritzy hotel, and we were all waiting in the ginormous reserved ballroom for it to start. Eventually word got to us that the wedding was canceled. Without even hesitating I grabbed a crowded elevator up to their hotel room. For some reason their room was already super crowded, almost as if there was a whole other party going on. The two of them were chummy and it was obvious the cancellation was mutual and there were no harsh feelings, though Jon seemed a little down since, as he told me, “I’m not getting any younger.” I then sat down next to him, held his hand, kissed his cheek, and told him I was sorry about how the wedding turned out. He looked really surprised and admitted that I was being more tender than he’s ever seen, since he was used to seeing me be “one of the guys”. The dream ended with us still holding hands and the implication that there was something there.

I wish I had romantic dreams more often. True, whenever I wake up after them I’m usually sad, and then I attempt to go back to sleep to continue the dream, though it never works, but I also spend the rest of the day in a great mood. I guess last night’s dream only started to veer towards slightly romantic towards the end, but that’s enough to put me in a wonderful mood.

Still have no clue what Beyonce was doing in my dream though.

Dear Best Buy :: Fuck You

30 May

Last night I dreamt of you. Your tallness proceeds you, even in my dreams. So do your eyes. We were on a train filled with other girls my age; you were the only male. I’m sure that says something about my low self esteem when comparing myself to other females, or some dream psychology mumbo jumbo like that. Anyway. I was on my way to do some important job related thing (the job, however, escapes me now), and you were accompanying me as a mentor of sorts. The stress of the trip was really beginning to get to me and I complained to you about a nagging headache. So you placed your long, spider-like fingers on my scalp and began to massage the precise area causing me grief. The feeling was orgasmic, and I turned to face you, your fingers now tangled up in my hair.  There was a moment where our eyes met, then suddenly it was our stop and we had to get off the train (but not before I threw a smug smile at the girls who were glaring enviously at me, ie. all of them). We walked through some undetermined city together, side by side, and off in the distance I saw The Avengers showing Spider-Man the ropes of working as a team. I asked you if you thought Emma Stone was nearby. You didn’t know who Emma Stone was. We kept walking. Eventually, we stopped to eat our lunch. You perched yourself on the ledge of a planter holding a tree in front of some fancy looking office building, and I stood facing you. We ate noodles out of yellow Tupperware; it looked as if it might have been Pad Thai. As we ate we made faces at each other, our mouths stuffed with food, and it was really unbecoming of the both of us. I had just shoved another forkful of noodles into my mouth when suddenly – without any warning – you vocalized how beautiful I was to you. I was speechless, and so you leaned in to gently kiss me. And what a kiss. After this, we parted ways. I’m not really sure what happened in between our separation (I probably went on to whatever the job related thing was), but later in the dream you sent me a note asking me to come visit you in your flat. I was flustered, and I hurried over right away. I remember quivering with anticipation as I knocked on your door. My eyes gazed on the address: 221b Baker Street. You opened it, smiled, and welcomed me in. You closed the door behind me, opened your mouth, and said –

And then Best Buy woke me up to let me know that it is going to cost $700 to fix my laptop. They waited for that exact moment to call me. They dream cockblocked me.

Best Buy is the reason I will probably never, in my life, get to have dream sex with Benedict Cumberbatch.

Fuck you, Best Buy.