Real Life
Our advisory council has been warning us about dreamblogging, telling us that if we persist we must at least make a new category, T.A.D.L.A.R. (obvs), to warn readers of its mind-numbing content. Well, I’m not in the category-birthing spirit right now, but I must recount LAST NIGHT’S DREAM.
Jemaine from Flight of the Conchords said he loved me. I was skeptical. To prove it he wheeled a three-tiered dessert cart into our hotel room. What an extravagance! Chocolate cakes, caramel custards, blueberry tartlets, sticky toffee pudding, pink and yellow and cupcakes, parfaits and trifles, mousses and flans…
I took a hairpin out of my hair and slid it across the table. “The only thing I have to offer you is a hairpin,” I said. He put it in his pocket, and then all our friends came into the room and we feasted on the desserts. Everything was delicious.
It’s funny: after I got D’ed, I thought I’d never want to get hitched again. And now I’m married, or at least dream-married. It seems to be working out pretty well.
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