If you have read some of my blog, it is surely apparent that I am a bit quirky. Okay, so some would say weird, bitchy, and that I have maybe less fucks to give than a lady should.
Right on all counts.
Poor John Cusack.... he has been the recurring character in my dreams for a few years. So frequently in fact, we greet each other like true old friends each time. "Hey! How's it going?" AND, no, no. it's not about sex, although there is one time where I demand he throw down. What can I say? It started to get to me, after walking the streets of Sarasota all night long with the king of 80's angst. It's like this....John Cusack and my hubster are one in the same in the dreams...I know it's Mikey, but he sometimes looks like Cusack, and vice versa. The feeling is always amazing and electric between us.
Damn you, John Hughes.
So last night, I am dreaming away, and it's fabulous. Mike/John and I are at some odd resort....it's winter but not, snowing but sunny. The place looks from the 50's, woodgrain and formica all around. Mostly it's deserted, but boasts a indoor (?) basic fucking ocean, complete with jumping dolphins and sharks. It has many rooms, a bar called the Blue something or other, and no bathrooms that a lady might consider.
Then, the nirvana. We are playing scratch off lotto and matching the winning numbers one after another. And just like that, we win 52 Million dollars. Even dreaming, I'm a paranoid planner--NO! We cannot tell anyone till we get the ticket in the safe deposit box!
But then, we are transported to our kitchen with all our friends--I remember hugging Cindy, who introduced us, with a fierceness and saying, "all our problems are over". A feeling of all-encompassing joy like I have never, ever experienced envelops me. I am dead asleep.
And then I wake.
So. Sorry John Cusack. Maybe he has been having nightmares involving a short, round, old lady with no boobs, chemo damage and a bad attitude stalking him. Perhaps he misses the 80's too.
I'm buying lotto tickets tomorrow.