I just woke up from two very weird dreams.
In the first, Frank died and I started dating Julia Roberts. Yes, really. And after a month, she proposed. And her mother was talking to me about stuff and saying that I was the one Julia had been waiting on for so long. (The trigger: I read in People yesterday that a 17-year-old kid saw Julia on location and hastily scribbled a sign asking her to the prom. She declined because she’s already married.)
The second dream was just as strange. Back-to-back dreams. My sister was driving her Suburban, I was in a Cherokee and Frank in the Wrangler. We were in Oklahoma City and going back to Duncan. She had a young Asian couple with her. The man rode with Frank, but my sister said this would be a good time for the woman to drive me in the Cherokee. We got in and she proceeded to be unable to make turns and drove through a field, laughing and having a good time, with me trying to turn the wheel back to the road and explaining that she has to take it slow and easy because of the Cherokee’s higher center of gravity. As we were about to get on I-40, the alarm rang and woke me up.
Yeesh.
