I dreamed that I was at a party and Tom Cruise kept trying to convert me to Scientology. He was very very persistent toward me in particular, intimating that I was Intensely Special and he really needed to speak with me very importantly about this. I ended up agreeing, just because I thought it might be a good plan to try and talk him down, but I don’t remember anything after. This was after the whole kerfuffle with his black turtleneck video.
Another more fun one – I was downtown in my dream city* at night. Booths and stalls lined the streets selling all sorts of things like an upscale-ish flea market. I stopped at one that sold books lining shelves and tables, but it seemed there was nobody minding the stall. I flipped through a few books and asked a nearby shopkeeper if I could ask questions about these books of them: “Oh no,” she said. “I’m just keeping an eye on the booth, but the owner should be back shortly… oh, there he is!” She pointed behind me. Behind me was Sting.
We chatted about books for a bit. He’s quite charming in dream life.
Brad Pitt shows up fairly commonly in my dreams, but it always creeps me out a bit since he looks a lot like my uncle.
He must be a lousy storekeeper. He stepped out night before last and met me for drinks at the hotel bar. Seemed a pleasant fellow. I thought my dream was odd since I’m not a big Sting fan. I enjoy his music well enough, but I just don’t think much about him one way or the other.
I know I’ve posted this before, but it was the coolest and most frustrating dream ever. I was in bed with Marilyn Monroe. And, either I had transmogrified into Dean Martin, or I was dressed a lot like him. I was wearing an awesome tux, and Marilyn was in a lovely gown, and… that didn’t change before I woke up. Damn it all to hell! Still pretty freakin’ cool, though.
I had a dream where I was playing Scrabblke with John Mahoney (Frasier’s dad on Fasier" except instead of tiles I had playing cards. It was hard making a word with the queen and numbers… (l33t speak didn’t occur to me in my dream)
Just prior to my daughter being born, I dreamed that she was born with hair like Don King. I then accused my wife (now ex-wife) of having an affair with him and ended up winning millions of dollars in a divorce settlement.
I’ve also had incredibly erotic dreams involving Shaquille O’Neal but I’d just as soon save all of those for my therapist.
One was with Alan Cumming and it was incredibly dirty. A wet dream for sure. But it was sort of confusing because I don’t think I’ve seen him in any shows or movies and he is the exact opposite of the type of guy I am attracted to. Now, of course, whenever I see him on a talk show or something, it makes me blush.
Another time, more recently, I had a dream where Barack Obama was sitting next to me in some bleachers. He was talking to some other folks and then turned around to give me a hug.
[minor hijack]
I’ve seen that name crop up on the SDMB, and I had no idea who he was. I always thought he was a porn star, and everyone was joking about him. I mean, come on! With that name? Then I saw him on a PBS promo of some kind last night. Whoa! So, either he’s not a porn star, or he’s following the most extreme example of The Mark L. Walberg Career Plan that I’m aware of.
[/minor hijack]
Joe Montana came over to my house and helped me put up shelves in my basement. We didn’t talk football as I knew he’d rather just hang out and do some handyman work with me.
[Mitch Hedberg on dreams]
there I am in a comfortable bed, the next thing you know I have to build a go-kart with my ex-landlord[/Mitch Hedberg on dreams]
That may have been where he was before he came to me; the downtown area we were in was pretty high-rent. But this was years ago that I had the dream. And while I like his music okay, I’m not a huge Sting fan. If you were to ask me about men I found quite striking, I suppose his name would come up after a few minutes, but he doesn’t get a lot of my headspace.
I had a dream that I was at some non-descript small warehouse-type building out in the country. Then the White Stripes pulled up, apparently I’d found their rehearsal/jam location. I walked up to them and chatted a little, and got invited in to hear the practice. Inside were all kinds of dusty old antiques and old stuff. Don’t remember much after that. Still pretty neat and not crazy though.
I can only recall one celebrity-cameo dream in my entire life, and that was just a month or so ago. I was having tea with Queen Elizabeth II in a palace - it wasn’t Buckingham Palace, which I would’ve recognized, but it was a nice place. She was good company - very friendly, low-key and welcoming. A very pleasant dream.
In dreams, I’ve had an affair with Ian McKellen (who most definitely was NOT gay) (think Macbeth era Ian McKellen, too, not Gandalf era); had a gratifying interview with Joss Whedon in which he told me he was mine and my sister’s biggest fan (for the book we’re still writing); and set my sister up with Jimmy Fallon (?).
My favourite dream was this one, though: I recall being a personal assistant to Miss Betty Buckley and having her run me ragged as we attempted to gather up Dumbledore’s Army so we could help defeat Voldemort once and for all. And Ginny Weasley wasn’t really a Weasley; she was the illegitimate daughter of a maid and a Death-Eater, and was placed in the Weasley family and everyone was given artificial memories (shades of Buffy Season 4, anyone?) to make her think that she’d been a Weasley all along. And then her birth mother was begging her to go with her, and we were all staring at Ginny, wondering what she would do. And she said, eyes blazing fiercely (teehee), “I’m going with my mother, and my father, and my brothers!” because as it turned out it was all a giant hoax and she really was a Weasley after all. And Nathan Fillion was in there somewhere, looking all fine in his tight pants, and Wash was still alive, and I was River, which was really kick-ass cool.
Buddy Holly, kinda. In my dream he faked his death because he was tired of being famous, and then forty-odd years later when he actually died, the Big Bopper came forward to tell everyone the truth. (He also explained that Richie Valens went to Mexico and hadn’t been seen since the mid-sixties.)
And J.R.R. Tolkien. When I was at the height of academic job-market anxiety, I had a dream in which my mother, my advisor, my most polished and perfect fellow grad student, and Tolkien all came over to play Trivial Pursuit and yell at me because I turned down a perfectly good tenure-track job teaching nine courses a year in religious studies (which is not my field). Tolkien added that he didn’t think much of my ability to teach his works (I was teaching a popular fiction course that included fantasy at the time) if I wasn’t an expert on comparative world religions. All in all, it was a frustrating dream.
Britney Spears of all people. The strange thing is that it wasn’t at all sexual. I don’t remember a lot of it but I remember we were both being chased by somebody or some thing for a rather long time.
For a time frame, the dream occurred while she was well into her downward spiral.
