I recently spent the night with Johnny Depp. In my dreams, that is. This was totally unintentional on my part, mind you. I do love Johnny Depp, but I'm not overly-obsessed with him or anything. I think he's very talented and, yes, HOT. But that's about it as far as my fandom goes. And before you get your dirty mind running amok on you, please note now that this was not a nocturnal sexual rendezvous with said celebrity (dammit!). But it was rather enjoyable to see Johnny for a little while, even if the dream was completely bizarre in every other way.
OK, so in my dream, I had moved into a new house. But it wasn't a house really. It was a trailer. A very crappy trailer. I remember noticing that the living room floor was sagging down rather sharply on one side. In the dream I stood there for a moment and made a mental note of this observation...as if it was somehow important. Sagging floor? Check.
Then I turned and walked to a nearby record player that was built into one of the walls. A record player. You know, that ancient device that would spin large discs filled with music at approximately 33rpm's. The one in my dream looked sort of like this:
The record player had been hinged to the wall somehow, so that it could be tucked away when not in use. This sounds like something I would indeed do...if I lived in a trailer. You know, as a space-saver. Again it seemed important. Record player? Check.
So anyhoots, I put a record on the record player and music started to play. But I couldn't figure out what song it was. And as I was standing there, listening, and trying to figure out what song I was hearing, Johnny Depp walked in the front door. There were 3 other people in the room, one of whom was my husband, but the other two were faceless (clearly they were friends from the trailer park I must be living in while in the dream--though they weren't significant enough to me to have faces...and they were carrying spatulas for some reason). Johnny smiled at the Hubs and all but ignored the two faceless friends as he walked past them. He was heading straight to me.
Johnny stopped right in front of me. I said, "Hello," but he didn't speak. He just picked up my hand and kissed it. Then he walked to the record player and started tapping his foot in time to the music. Obviously he knew the song, so I asked him what it was. But naturally, he didn't answer. Apparently sexy celebs don't need to talk in my dreams; they are there purely as eye candy. Natch. After he listened to the tune for a bit he walked over to a nearby piano. Why there's a piano there I really don't know because I don't play, and neither does anyone else I know. But Johnny does, in my dream at least, and so he did. Imagine this, if you will...
Johnny played a song on the piano...again, it was unrecognizable to me. The faceless friends just stared. The Hubs offered him some spaghetti. What else would you offer a celebrity in your dreams, after all? And I do make darn good spaghetti, if I do say so myself. He declined the spaghetti though with a simple shake of his head and finished his song. Then he got up and walked back over to me. He looked me dead in the eye, and he smiled. Oh my gawd, his smile was beautiful. And with absolutely no control over my own facial muscles at that point, in the presence of this famously fabulous and not-too-hard-on-the-eyes male being, I smiled right back.
Then Johnny opened his mouth to say something. I was mesmerized, and waited for whatever words were going to come forth from his lips, which were a mere 12 inches (or less!) away from me. He leaned in close...closer, and then he whispered to me.
"You had me at 'Hello.'"
Cheesy but classic movie line from the hot celeb in my dream? Check.
Then I heard a microwave beeping and when I turned to look in its direction, Johnny disappeared. And then I woke up. Stupid microwave. As if it doesn't annoy me enough in my waking moments, it has to taunt me in my dreams as well. Who knows what might have happened next, if that damn microwave hadn't started beeping!
On the plus side, I learned some important things as a result of my dream-state brush with fame.
1. That a sagging living room floor might seem important in a dream, but it's really not.
2. That old record players can be tucked away into walls with the proper ingenuity and carpentry know-how.
3. And that cheesy movie lines are just as effective in dreams as they are in the movies, especially when uttered by the one and only Johnny Depp.
Who says you can't learn anything while you sleep, eh?
