I’ve been having really vivid dreams lately that involve everything from celebrity sightings to grand theft auto. A week or two ago, I dreamed that I stole a van and ended up in the van INSIDE a building at a camp. I don’t know exactly how I got the van in the room, but no matter how many points I tried to make, I could not turn the thing around to get it out. And last night, I had sort of a loosely strung together dream involving the following musicians: Phil Collins, Paul Simon and Bret Michaels. Here’s how it went down…
L-Josh and I were at a restaurant. There was someone else there with us, but I’m not really sure who it was. We were sitting in a booth, and the wall of the booth was probably 10-12 feet tall because on the other side of it, there was another level of the restaurant. If the wall hadn’t separated us, then our heads would have been right at the feet of the people on the other level. There were stairs leading from one level to the other by the entrance, and this was the kind of place where you give your name when you order, and they call your name when your food is ready.
So we’re sitting there in our booth, and we hear the name-caller say, “Bret Michaels,” and we all look at each other and kind of laugh, probably thinking that someone was being funny when they gave their name. And then the name-caller says, “Phil Collins,” and we’re all like, “What??” And we look over to the stairs just in time to see Bret Michaels coming down from the upper level to get his food. The first thing we notice about Bret is that he’s not wearing a bandanna, which is a relief at first because we think, “Oh good. That means the bandanna isn’t holding his hair on,” which was our previous belief. But then we realize that he’s wearing a really awful mullet wig.
Phil Collins looks like Phil Collins.
Well, after Bret and Phil (who are apparently dining together) pick up their food trays, they turn around to realize that they can’t go back up the way they came down. I’m not sure why. So they start looking for another way to get up there, and we suggest that they climb through our booth.
Josh demonstrates, and Bret Michaels immediately follows her up and over, but Phil Collins is standing there looking at me uncertainly, and he says, “Are you sure that’s ok?” I reply, “Look. If Lauren thinks it’s ok, then it’s fine.”
Then I was in a house, which I won’t go into because it got really weird at that point, and this post is long enough as it is. The important thing that happened there was that Paul Simon came in, and I said, “Ok. I just have to ask. What is a roly-poly little bat-faced girl?” to which he replied, “She was a prostitute named Marilyn in the town where I grew up.”
So now you know. Bret Michaels is actually bald but hiding it, Phil Collins is very concerned with propriety and restaurant etiquette, and Paul Simon sings about a hooker named Marilyn in “Call Me Al.” You want answers. I dream ’em up.