Nightmares and Dreams

On Sunday night I had a nightmare. It was a semi-celebrity dream, but since the celebrity wasn’t heavily featured I didn’t write it up in my celebrity dream journal. But it was a significant nightmare, because when I woke up (at 2:26 a.m.) I feared going back to sleep in case the dream continued.

The celebrity involved was Howard Stern. I dreamt that I entered a contest to have him broadcast his show from my home for one morning. I won, and he came to my house the night before since he was going to have to wake up by 4 a.m. to get ready for the show.

In the morning he asked if he could take a shower, to which I said yes. He went into the shower and I went downstairs to make him coffee before the show started. I heard a noise coming from the area by the front door – the sound of a garbage can being dragged up the driveway. I go over and discover the front door wide open, and a gentleman is on the front step. He’s friendly-looking enough, and asks if the man and wife are available to speak with him.

“You’ll have to come back later, when we’re able to talk with you. It’s too early now.”

He grimaces but backs down the driveway, and I close and lock the front door. I head into the kitchen only to discover the man is now standing at the french doors in the kitchen area. He pushes open the doors and says, “May I come in now?”

“No!” I respond sharply, pushing the doors close. However, they don’t latch, as the mechanism doesn’t quite line up properly. A mild panic enters my mind as I try to calmly get the door to latch so that I can trip the lock.

The man glares at me, and in a perfectly calm and cold voice says, “Now why did you have to do that? Why did you have to close the doors on me? Now I have to come in there and bash your head in.”

In shock, I continue to try to align the doors so that they shut properly. Finally, just as the man reaches to open the door, the doors align and I’m able to slide the deadbolt lock.

And I woke up. It’s the first time a dream has really scared me – that doesn’t happen often. But it was the way the man so calmly threatened to kill me that freaked me out. I looked at the clock – 2:26 a.m. – and didn’t want to go back to sleep for fear the nightmare would continue.

Last night, I had a wonderful dream. As I was going to bed I thought to myself, “Please don’t have another bad dream – make this one nice.”

Boy did that work out for me.

I had a dream that fake boyfriend Colin Firth was in love with me. How much better than that could you get? I dreamed that he asked me out, took me on the date of a lifetime, and all but adored me completely. It was blissful and I didn’t want to wake up. My own personal Mr. Darcy. *sigh* It was like a true romance-novel date: he read me poetry, took me for a drive in the country in an old 1920s Bentley, made a picnic that we enjoyed, and basically wooed me to tears. It was wonderful (even though in real life if Denis ever did those things I’d probably laugh and say, “I’m bored, let’s go bowling”).

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