Sometimes I suspect that my subconscious is having a better time than I am. I began the day with a wonderful, subconscious present to myself. A dream. A rather, erm, pleasant one. And I haven’t had one of those in a while, which is why I suspect it was a present. One where I was the girlfriend of Gary Lineker. Only he looked like Anderson Cooper.
We were at a big party. We kept looking at each other in meaningful ways. We were on our way home, but Garyanderson was worried about his jealous cat, Mrs. Procter. But in the end, the cat was forgotten. He had sensitive hands. Cue alarm clock.
Now that’s all very nice. Very, very nice! But after I’d wiped the smile off my face I started to think about what it could all mean. What’s rolling around in the old grey matter to conjure up such a lovely little interlude?
Gary Lineker? World Cup silly season. Anderson Cooper? He’s on the cover of a recent Vanity Fair. And hell, why not! A big party? It is my birthday I suppose, and Garyanderson are (sic) famous. Sensitive hands? Well, um, ja!
But Mrs. Proctor? What in the name of sweet witchcraft does The Crucible have to do with anything? And why is the cat jealous? Of course, the recent passing of 06.06.2006 might be responsible, but I’m still confused. If there are any dream readers amongst us, your analysis would be most welcome!
Anyway, and more to the point, you now know that it’s my birthday and that I’ve got the hots for Anderson Cooper.