Cruising Jessica Simpson

I'm one of those people that believes that dreams are better off left in one's head. It's easy to bore someone with the retelling of a dream, especially since the dream is usually relayed with speech slowed by just coming out of a unconsciousness, and peppered with "so then we're in this car, no actually it was a boat, and somehow we're flying to some place I used to have playgroup in..." You want to scream "Get on with it! What's the point?" But of course, there is no point, this is a dream after all, as random and rambling as the retelling. But since I make the rules here, I will follow that bit of alliteration by telling you about the dream I had this weekend:

I was staying in a room on the top floor of a 12 story skyscraper hotel, situated on a cruise ship. The elevator did not transport up or down, but more in terms of ripples in time and parallel universes. Which is why, in my room on the top floor, I had a view of the bottom half of a lighthouse (I guess). Basically, to take the elevator up, you pressed the button, the walls started to crest and ripple left to right, and you were rolled up in something like carpet for a few seconds, then deposited on the desired level. A little claustrophobic, but temporary.

Now, I had broken up with Monk due to apathy, a couple days into this cruise. At the dream-present, I had just found out that Jessica Simpson was on board, and had dumped Nick for me. This was very cool; I began to plot my corruption, ahem, seduction of this blond little baptist. However, she kept following me around and being extremely annoying and clingy, so naturally I was trying to figure out how to get rid of her, and also thinking maybe I shouldn't have broken up with Monk. Bottom line: I had to end it with Jessica, but not before I got in her pants.
And then (as all mediocre stories seem to end) I woke up.

So. I'd tell myself no more red meat for dinner, but I kind of liked the ride.

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