Dream or vision? Who's to say?

I had a weird dream last night. People who know me well know that this is not in any way uncommon. I'm a creative type, and my imagination has always been good, which means my unconscious comes up with some doozies when I'm sleeping. Last night it was about Luke Wilson.



I saw Luke Wilson at the UT-Baylor basketball game last night. Since it was a rout, you find yourself looking around for other things to entertain you. Sitting just behind the scorers' table was Mr. Wilson and a date. I think there was a friend with them, too, though I only noticed that when they had to vacate their seats. Seems their box suite wasn't close enough to the action for them, so they just sat in someone's season ticket seats. When those people finally arrived (with 8:00 left in the first half - I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and guess that their Valentine's Day dinner ran long), they booted Mr. Wilson and his pals out of their seats. Good for them. Don't let Hollywood types intimidate you.

Anyway, as Mr. Wilson and entourage retired back to their suite, I saw him a little better and grimaced at his scruffy appearance (he didn't look like he does in that picture above - you think I'd have a complaint if he'd looked like that?). I don't care for the scruffy look. Never have. Shave and get a haircut. I realize I live in Austin, where such sentiment is met wtih gasps and dismay, but that's how it is. I like my men smellin' clean and lookin' sharp. I don't walk around unshaved and with hair that looks confused by the presence of scissors - why should they? You can dress casual. You can be comfortable. I like to be. But look like you give a crap. That's all I'm sayin'.

Well, Luke's appearance must've implanted some sort of unconscious, negative opinion of him in my brain, because I dreamt last night that we started dating, and he was kind of an asshole. I've always had kind of a crush on the guy, but I think that's ruined thanks to my dream. I remember he asked if I wanted to do a couple of activities, and I said one was fine, but I didn't feel like doing the other - I think it was some sort of art show where you go from exhibit to exhibit, stopping at each one for about 15 minutes, but the whole thing would take something like 4 hours. Teeeeeedious. I felt this was a reasonable response. But sometime later, he goes off on me, telling me how he thought we'd get along better and have more in common, and he berates me for not being flexible and open to doing stuff he wants to do. There's this current in his ranting that all of our "problems" are my fault, and that I'm just too much of a plebe or something. I was completely surprised by all this in the dream.

In real life, I'd like to think that I'd tell him to bite it since it seemed to be an indictment of my entire personality and being, but in the dream, even though I was angry, for some reason, I capitulated and said okay, I'd go to the art thing the next day, which would be a Saturday - a valuable "personal" day to those of us who serve employment masters Monday through Friday. Saturdays are sacred to us as days we get to spend doing what WE WANT to do - not what some boss tells us to do, dangling a paycheck in front of us to bend us to his will.

Only after I've capitulated does Luke mention in passing to me, as if I should've known, that this "showing" starts at 4:30 in the morning! "WHAT????" I think in the dream! And clearly my distress shows on my face. But Luke doesn't notice. He's got a tailor there fitting him for the outfit he's going to wear to the showing, and my feelings are a moot point anyway. Mr. Wilson likes things his way.

I woke up from this dream thoroughly disliking Luke Wilson. Unfair you say? Maybe. Or maybe my dreams are psychic. You don't know.