I had the weirdest dream last night. I dreamt that it was like the late 1700s, pre-Revolutionary Virginia. I was sitting in the gallery in the House of Burgesses, all dressed up and enjoying the squabbling and spirited debating among our Founding Fathers.
Suddenly, I locked eyes with Thomas Jefferson, and he smiled at me. Man, I was so flattered! I was thinking, like, it would be so awesome cool if maybe I could talk to him or something after that day’s session let out. But then I thought, hey, no chance; I mean, that’s Thomas Jefferson after all, big deal planter, inventor, hottie, and all-around Renaissance kinda guy.
Anyhow, as I was walking out, Thomas Jefferson actually came up to me and introduced himself. My heart skipped many beats. We chatted for a couple of minutes. I can’t remember what I said because, 1, I was pretty star-struck; and 2, it was a dream. At the end of our conversation, just when I thought we’d just, like, part and that would be the extent of my Brush With Fame, Thomas Jefferson asked me if I’d like to have tea with him.
Man, I almost squealed for the pure joy of it all!
Me (breathlessly): “Why, of course, sir! I’d be delighted .”
Thomas Jefferson: “Excellent! I’d be honored to become further acquainted.”
Thomas Jefferson (smiling and offering his arm): “But before we go, I must tell you, Madam, that you have lost your wig. I’d suggest looking in the closet at the foot of the stairs, there.”
Yikes! I felt my head and sure enough, no wig. Damn, I honestly hadn’t even known that I had been wearing a wig, but there you are. I hurried to the closet, yanked open the door, and sure enough, not only my powdered wig in there, but my straw hat too. Now, how had that happened?! I was sooooo embarrassed! There I was, chatting blithely with Thomas Jefferson and I was wigless the whole time.
To make an already long story short, I crammed both my wig and my hat on my head and off we went, presumably to have tea. I assume that’s what we did, because about then I woke up.
I have no idea why I had this dream. I have never been particulary enamored of Thomas Jefferson; I guess I’m neutral on that matter actually. I haven’t seen John Frye, Story of a Patriot anytime recently, so that explanation is out. I haven’t been to Monticello since 1986, and I’ve never been to the House of Burgesses. Hell, I don’t even know if it would have been proper for me to be sporting a big-ass powdered wig in the middle of the day, but that’s the way it went.
Anyhow, I just had to get that out of my system. It’s been cracking me up all day. If you read this far, thank you.