Are These Pants Clean, or Was That a Dream?

Lately my dream-life has pretty much been a reflection of my real life. This has meant that most of my dreams, as of late, consist of me going about my normal day-to-day activities. The confusion this was has been causing has started to get out of hand:

"Did I fax you those forms, Boss-Lady, or did I just dream it?"

"We ate at Blueberry Hill yesterday so why don't we - wait - no, you're right; I dreamt that. Sure we can go there today."

"Didn't we watch this episode of Law & Order just the other day? Oh, that was a Criminal Intent. I must have dreamt this L & O Prime episode then."

Y-a-a-a-a-awn! Needless to say, I was pretty thrilled when I was blessed with the dream I had a few nights ago that was, easily, one of the best dreams I have ever had.

I dreamt that I was driving around Europe in a tiny red convertible with none other than Sacha. Baron. Cohen. Somehow in my dream, I ended up meeting him and then was invited to take a day trip driving around Europe checking out a few of his favorite sites. We never really left the car, but we did get to drive around some really outstanding rollercoasteresque highways and such. We just chatted and hung out like old friends although I was very conscious that this was my first time meeting him. We joked with each other while speaking in the Borat voice, and we talked improv. I remember thinking that he hadn't brought up his fiancee and how that was a good sign that he might leave her for me. I didn't get carried away however, and grounded myself in the thought that his leaving her was unlikely, at best. I was really psyched at the idea of being able to call EVERYONE I know (once I were to get back to the states, of course, because I wouldn't want to pay the overseas phone charges) to tell them about my roadtrip.

Usually when I have a really good dream, I awake sad to find that it wasn't real. But the thing with this particular dream that makes it so great, is that that wasn't the case at all! I mean, my chances of ever meeting Sacha Baron Cohen, let alone having any kind of real convoe with him, are ridiculously slim - so the fact that I had a really cool pretend version just makes me happy. It also makes the idea of having another stream of the incredibly boring and extremely conceivable dreams okay with me.

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