Anyway, for my whole life I've always had very vivid dreams. Some of the time, I don't want to wake up because the dream I was having was so good. And all the other times I wake up thinking, "What the fuck was that?" However since I've been married (9 years) and a mother (7 years), I never have a dream as a wife or mother. I'm always single. That's not to say my husband wasn't in my dream... he has been a few times but not as my husband. And my kids have been there in theory meaning they've taken forms of other people but I'm never their mother. It's a weird parallel plane that I live on at night that my subconscious brain vacations to. (Maybe that's where my brain is and not Florida?)
Two years ago I had a dream about a certain male actor--not mentioning names but he's an actor, plays a sparkly vampire, I'm pretty sure none of you know who he is--and that dream spawned a whole story that I've written and tweaked a million and one times. Hell, it's not just a story, it's a freakin' novel. Ok, Ok, this is the actor. You've twisted my arm. I feel like I HAVE to show you a picture of him. And I do like adding pictures of the pretty. :)
This is when I fell in love with him:
And this is why I still love him:
I feel like I'm digressing but bear (bare?) with me. My whole point before I got distracted by the pretty was that I have vivid dreams that can be turned into novels. (My pseudo-novel is not about the man shown above, it is--however--inspired by him. Just had to say that too.)
Also, if you've read any of my previous posts you know I have a slight obsession with a certain tattooed lead singer of a certain pop band... this guy is in my dreams A LOT. Who is he? Oh yea...
I could post a picture of when I first adored this man but I feel dirty because he looks so freakin' young. If you want to see you can google Adam Levine from 2004. But remember I was also from 2004 too so I was younger too. Whew, I feel better.
Back to the reason I started this rambling post that has turned into my own little fangirl session... my dreams. I wanted to write about my dream last night because it made me giggle when I woke up. And because there was a rather large part of me that wanted to go back to sleep, beneath my blankets, and dream some more. But I had to pee. Stupid post baby bladders.
So, without further ado, my dream:
The Scene: Backstage at a concert. But the backstage area was like a house. Lots of musicians milling around. Four very specific ones laughing and joking. I was joking with these musicians and they kept giving me a difficult time, ribbing me like I was their sister. And he walks in. My boyfriend. The illustrious Adam Levine. But he's distracted. Very distracted. But not too distracted to say hello to me and give me a few loving kisses (*sigh*). I watched him mill around in his sexy white t-shirt, black jeans and scruffy jaw. But he was really distracted and upset about something.
Scene Two: Still his girlfriend, I watched him do a Coke commercial. He was slick. And by slick I mean too cleaned up, too well groomed and too car salesman-ish. He was really selling that shit. I was disgusted seeing him like that. After the commercial was over we fought because I'm selfish even in my dreams and he needed to be just as I wanted him to be and not this slick version of himself. He's yelling at me because he basically sold-out and felt dirty having to pitch for a company like that when all he really wanted to do with his life was play music. But because it is my dream, the passion from the fighting turns into passionate, um, touching. Just when things are getting good, my three best friends walk in to tell me the concert is about to start. I was furious. Adam just laughed, smacked me on the ass and went back into the backstage house saying it was best because he needs "alone time" before each concert. My friends were upset I didn't push for more time with him, I was upset with them because they interupted some very passionate, uh, touching. I yelled at them and told them all they sounded like a bunch of clucking hens.
Scene Three: I was still his girlfriend but for some reason I was furious with him. I moved in with my brother who had an empty bachelor type apartment--and like any bachelors apartment it was filthy. So in my anger I was cleaning his apartment. Marcy was there trying to talk sense into me, telling me to call him. I refused to, I was so mad, making me clean even more. Then my brother called to ask about the roasted pork and if it was done.
Then I woke up. I groaned because I didn't want to wake up. I wanted to know why I was so mad at Adam. I groaded because I had to pee so freakin' bad. Then I groaned again because I needed get up to put the pork roast into the crockpot before it got to late and wasn't going to be done until midnight. But that is how my dreams go. I am not exaggerating any parts of it--they are that detailed. I have a notebook next to my bed that I write down the most vivid ones. I read that notebook and say "What the fuck?" but honestly sometimes these fucked up dreams inspire me and lets me know I do have a very active imagination. The times when I feel like my real life has drained any creativity that I may have, I read that notebook and don't feel so empty.
Or... when I'm feeling particularly fangirlish, I read that notebook to remember the good dreams. So the next time I see a photo of Adam or whomever and think, we'll always have Paris.... or in the case of last night the backstage house, my clucking friends and our new heart tattoos.
Credit where credit is due: First photo of Robert Pattinson is courtesy of GQ, circa April 2009. Thank you GQ. Second photo of Robert Pattinson is courtesy of Entertainment Weekly circa April 2011. Thank you EW and that precious elephant Tai. Photo of Adam Levine courtesy of MSNBC and their celebrity sightings, circa I don't know. But thank you... just thank you.
Added ramblings: Rereading my dream I thought I'd add why I think I dreamed it. I love to dissect my dreams:
1. Um, hello. It's Adam Levine. I honestly haven't fangirled in a while, not being of sound mind recently meant my usual fangirling has stopped to. Maybe with this dream I'll be back to normal, thank goodness.
2. The commercial was probably because of a thought I had about Mr. Levine weeks ago. He was looking awfully slick lately and I don't particularly like it. I like him more, um. rough. Maybe I think he sold-out a little being a part of The Voice. I've always liked him being slightly under the mega-watt press radar. I hate it when the object of my obsessions are obsessed over by the press. Which is why I've always felt sorry for Mr. Pattinson. And me, being me, can't stand too much of a good thing. Too much of it doesn't make it good anymore and I don't want that to happen to Mr. Levine. (I'm over-analyzing something so trivial, I know. But that's what I do.)
3. My clucking friends... My friends don't cluck. They've never ganged up on me over anything. But I think it's rather funny that they were my anchor of sorts to keep me in reality. They walked in during the passionate, um, touching telling my dream life to get a grip. And yet they got mad at me because I didn't spend more time with him. They anchor me but also push me to dream. I love my clucking friends.
4. I clean when I'm mad. Obviously my sub-conscious likes to as well. And Marcy was the friend there talking me through my anger. Gee, like that's never happened....
5. Pork roast--dinner
6. Heart tattoo--getting another tattoo soon (hopefully) but definately not a heart on my hand. The sticker part is obviously kid induced.
7. Concert--outside, raining. I'm seeing Maroon 5 in September at an outdoor amphitheater. Am I predicting what's to happen? Guess I've got to make sure I'm wearing my red bra.
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