One rule of blogging I've encountered (because some bloggers feel the need to establish rules of blogging) is that you never write about your dreams, as they are boring and no one really cares about them.
This one is too good to pass by without recording. Last night I dreamt I was at a party hosted by a former classmate named Greg, along withmy boyfriend Ryan. We found ourselves sitting on a couch chatting with a rather crazy-haired man. Eventually we made the discovery that he was none other than Art Garfunkel.
What luck! We descended upon him with questions. What was it like being in Simon + Garfunkel? What about his time in Architecture school? What about that pesky drug conviction last year? Even better, suddenly Ryan was a newspaper reporter. He had whipped out his notepad and pen and was recording all the answers. Unfortunately, I can't remember a single one.
I also didn't remember this dream as I actually listened to S+G this morning ("What a Wonderful World") but did remember it as I crossed the street on the way to work. So, I am left with two pressing questions: How come I never get to be the newspaper reporter in my own dreams? Also, how can I purvey a "press hat" like the one Ryan was wearing in the dream and make him wear it?
Please advise.
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1 comment:
I say take that rule book and toss it out the window! Dreams are gold, baby. Gold.
Hmm...reporter hat, eh? Ryan would look so cute in that! I suggest combing thrift stores and flea markets. You never know when some old man retire reporter will decide it’s time to part with his past...
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