I had the most bizarre dream last night. In it, Justin Timberlake and I were the best of friends and we were in Canada for some sort of national celebration where he was going to be honored for something or other (presumably his humanitarian efforts on behalf of teenage girls the world over).
At some point a panic broke out and the young, screaming girls at the front of the crowd were being crushed against the front barricades. Justin and I leapt into action, pulling the girls to safety. The girls, who by then had turned into Naomi Watts, Nicole Kidman, and various other very attractive women, expressed their gratitude for our efforts and asked if there was anything they could do to thank us <wink, wink>…and that’s when I woke up.
No matter how hard I tried to fall back asleep, there was no going back. It was gone. But for the longest time I had that lingering glow that comes from having a celebrity as a best friend and the opportunities for heroism (and Naomi Watts) that arise as a result of that friendship.
For those of you who are curious, Justin is quite charming and down-to-earth when you get to know him.
8 Comments
wow… very impressive. i’ve only been able to party with the redhotchilipeppers, jam with weezer, and kick arnold schwarzenegge’s ass.
you’ve out done us all.
~jack
ps. after hearing about justin’s jam with the flaming lips recently, i’m even more impressed with this young timberlake. can he do no wrong?
Cyndi Crawford and i tuned out to be best buds from high school in one dream. I know the feeling when you wake up, and your’e all “Damn, [insert name of celebrity] and I go way back. How come they don’t call me for all the cool premieres and parties…?
Although I too have experienced many a celebrity dream, I like to keep expletives OUT of my comments. Please do the same you little potty-mouthed such and suches!
So last night in my dream, I was riding along with friends on a winding country road when we happened upon Bill, Hillary and Chelsea who–though dressed in business attire–were carrying tennis rackets and seemed headed to a tennis court a few miles up. “Let’s give them a ride!” I said, and we pulled over and I scooted to the middle of the back seat to be sandwiched between Bill and Chelsea while Hillary went for the front passenger seat. I was making small talk with Hillary about some bill she was trying to pass in the Senate and suggested that she might want to strip a controversial provision that had made the bill too expensive to win broad support. I knew, of course, that for political reasons, she would never follow my advice because she owed that provision to some powerful supporters, but I said it nonetheless to see what she would say. When she made some excuse about why she wanted to leave it in, I told her maybe she should secretly agree in advance that opponents could offer an amendment to strike that part–thereby saving herself politically. She said that was a good idea. Then we arrived at the tennis courts and the Clintons got out of the car, thanking us for the ride. I never even said anything to Bill.
Query: have I lived in D.C. for too long?
I had a dream a while back where I happened upon Billy Idol who was wearing a black ski mask and a yellow suit of armour fashioned out of posterboard and packing tape (much like my 4th grade tin man costume for the Wizard of Oz). He was singing “White Wedding” (naturally) and then I pounced on him and beat the crap out of him for stealing one of his songs from three poor children who were just trying to make it big in the music biz. I love that dream.
Hmmmm. I have no response to that.
I am always the bestest of friends with the entire (original) cast of “90210″. Brenda and I are especially close.
humm the only dreams i ever recall are the bad kind… (no not wet) scary. I just make myself forget them.. makes me wonder if i have any good ones.. and if i do, where the hell are they?