Sweet Dreams are made of this!, There's a Moral to this Story!


I have always had some pretty crazy dreams. Very detailed, too. I usually remember everything about my dreams and the one I just woke up from is no different.

Our scene begins in a normal mall. Shops are open, people are everywhere and I’m walking along just browsing, kind of aimlessly walking with the crowd of shoppers and out of nowhere someone just about runs me over without apologizing.

Now, I don’t take that kind of abuse from anyone and this stranger is no different. I called out to them in an upset kind of tone. The gentleman turns around and…

It’s John fucking Cusack.

Normally, I’d be shitting my pants because, c’mon… It’s John Cusack! Who doesn’t love this man? I do! Or… I thought I did.

John turned around and whipped out a gun and opened fire on me! In a crowded mall!

Who knew?

I thought John was cool! I mean, I loved him very, very much in Hot Tub Time Machine. Hubby and I watch it often enough that we can quote the entire movie from beginning to end. But this time… Adam really does suck Cox n’ Dix.

So there I am, avoiding this lead hailfire, running bodies and splintering wood from the impact of said lead. I’m running my fat little ass off, which, in dreams, is always much easier than reality, lol.

I don’t know what crawled up John’s ass and died but fucking excuse me for not wanting to be run over like I’m the autobahn. Celebrity or no, you don’t get to do that John.

Except, apparently he does, because my confronting him about it has now turned into a deadly chase where he’s like the Terminator and I’m poor Sarah Connor, except… there’s no Kyle Reese to save my lily white behind. It’s up to me and I don’t feel like dying today!

So I haul ass to the underbelly of the mall where workers are trying to do their job and it looks like a scene from Titanic where Rose and Jack are running through the boiler room. I’m sure the workers didn’t think that shit was cute, either. GTFO!

Anyways, there I am, dodging and weaving around heavy machinery and the workers trying to do their jobs while John is steadily trying to kill my ass. Crazy, right?

Blood is being sprayed everywhere, people are screaming. It’s not pretty.

We finally work our way back up to the topside of the mall where I finally make it to the police station. (It’s a dream, shaddup.) The Chief of Police assures me that they’ll handle this and tell all of us scared civilians to keep down while they do their job in apprehending Undesirable #1.

It’s not to be. They haven’t given John Cusack enough credit. He’s fucking crafty. He knows exactly how all of this will end.

Over the loud speaker we all suddenly hear him saying to surrender the girl or everyone will die when he leaks this toxic nerve gas.

This shit is rapidly turning into a scene from Batman (1989) where Joker murders everyone in the art museum and rearranges their faces, well, artfully.

Everyone looks at me and starts putting on their gas masks. Lo and fucking behold, there’s no mask for me and some poor unfortunately souls whose eyes start bugging out of their heads like the scene from Total Recall where the window is blown out and the air from Mars causes a truly agonizing death.

It’s exactly like that.

Of course, right before I actually kick the bucket, I wake up and all is well with the world except that the humidity from outside has permeated the coolness of our central air to make for a very balmy sleepy time and I really ought to not eat pizza before going to bed.

Also, there’s a moral you can learn from this!

Don’t confront someone over something small. It could be deadly! Learn from my example, folks.