Last night, my wife and I started catching up with the current season of Game of Thrones. Which is, for those who don’t know the show, a daunting task. How many kings are there, now, exactly? And who were Ned Stark’s children again? I’d forgotten that he’s also referred to as Eddard. And Stannis who? The melodramatic woman on the beach, the poisoned old guy, dragons and subtitles and bastards and direwolves…my brain cries uncle.
Two and a Half Men isn’t really that bad of a show, is it? Save me, Ashton Kutcher, with your silly muggings and stupid lines.
Anyway, Game of Thrones is astonishingly epic, and maybe that’s why I had another very vivid dream last night. It goes something like this:
I’m at a New Order concert with my great writer friend Ed Lin. (Sorry, Ed, for pulling you into this mess.) This makes sense, as I’ve read one of Ed’s posts about seeing Peter Hook (former member of New Order) a while back. So there we are, listening to New Order, when I see Hilary Duff sitting a few rows away. As far as I know, I’ve spent a total of 1.42 seconds of my life thinking about Hilary Duff (probably an overestimate), but here she is, not only sitting there but looking right at me, staring hard.
“It’s because she’s missing her dog,” Ed says, as if this made all the sense in the world. (FYI, after seeing Game of Thrones, we saw the episode of Veep “Catherine,” where a dog is prominently featured in the storyline.)
At this point, I notice that everyone has a tattoo on their arm. We received it as we entered the concert, I guess as some sort of a validating stamp? On mine, it is a bunch of stars against a charcoal background. The stars are moving, streaking. I feel like dancing, I get up…
…and I’m hanging out with Janet Jackson. (At the supermarket yesterday, I may have seen her on a magazine cover [verified via Google -- Prevention, July 2012!].) Onlookers on the street gawk at us, and I feel cool and important. We enter a nail salon, where all the nail ladies do the nails while lying on fancily made beds. The client is supposed to climb into bed with the nail ladies, but Janet politely refuses, so she sits in a chair while the nail lady awkwardly leans over to do Janet’s nails.
Then Janet and I are going back to the concert, and we are being followed by the nail lady and a big tough guy, both of them looking pissed. The big guy takes out a tape measure, runs up to Janet, and starts measuring her head and back without asking for permission. I try to stop him, and he pulls out a gun. We run…
…back to the concert. The door slams shut, and a man gives me a baseball bat. The bat feels excellent in my hands. With this bat, I can protect people.
And that’s when I wake up.
Dreams are awesome.