When I Live My Dream

Years ago, I had a series of recurring dreams in which I was hanging out with Robert De Niro. In my dreams, we were always close friends. He would be sitting in a chair, wearing glasses, reading a book under a lamp while I lounged on the couch writing in my journal. I'm not sure we ever spoke. We were just comfortable together.

One morning in the late 90's, there was a report on the radio that De Niro was allegedly involved in a prostitution raid in Paris (note: never proven). For a split second upon hearing the news, I thought "That's impossible, he was with me last night." And a second later, I realized that my dream life was merging with reality.

Good Lord. That's probably how crazy people, like the chick who was arrested for stalking David Letterman (who, coincidentally, lived with my not-really-my-cousin Clare at the time), become insane. It could have been me. Poor Bobby.

Last night, I woke up in a bed, under a green blanket, with Albert Brooks. We were joking and laughing a lot. Later we met up with John Travolta for gin and tonics. (Do Scientologists even drink?) Then I ended up in a limo with Kelly Preston, Jennifer Aniston and some other famous chick (maybe Nicole Kidman but I hope not). We were driving around, putting on bright red lipstick and talking about whether to go out in Rochester or not. May cause a huge stir and not be fun at all, right? It's tough to be famous sometimes.

Then I woke up . . .

Heaven Sent

When I was pregnant with Son #1, he came to me in a dream.

Son #1: "Is there anything I need to know before I'm born?"

Me: "Just remember where you are right now. Somehow, after you're born, you forget."

Me: "Speaking of which, what are you doing right now?"

Son #1: "Just playing with my little brother."

I awoke the next morning amazed that we had connected in that way and shocked to boot: I'm having two boys?? I thought I was going to have girls! Oh nooooooooo!

In retrospect, it's been a huge blessing. To quote the Rolling Stones, you get what you need. But now who's going to go shopping with me when I'm 80? I guess that's what girlfriends are for.