Begin Dream:
I'm involved in some capacity in American Idol.
I'm not a contestant, but I'm not a judge either.
In whatever capacity, I'm there.
And I'm looking over Simon Cowell's shoulder.
He's been coloring with what appears to be colored pencils.
He's been coloring with what appears to be colored pencils.
And it's quite good.
"I didn't know you were an artist." I say.
"I didn't know you were an artist." I say.
We're alone.
"What did you think I was?" he asks.
I don't answer.
Suddenly, we're in his kitchen, which is much more 80's style than current.
"What did you think I was?" he asks.
I don't answer.
Suddenly, we're in his kitchen, which is much more 80's style than current.
It's cluttered and dark, and kind of dusty.
Simon is fixing me dinner.
"I don't know if I could get used to cooking every night for you," I say. "I'd be afraid of your criticism."
He responds by putting down the spoon he's been stirring the sauce with and holding both my hands in his.
"We care for one another. Why would I ever criticize you?"
I can't answer.
Simon is fixing me dinner.
"I don't know if I could get used to cooking every night for you," I say. "I'd be afraid of your criticism."
He responds by putting down the spoon he's been stirring the sauce with and holding both my hands in his.
"We care for one another. Why would I ever criticize you?"
I can't answer.
His brown eyes are cutting through to my soul, it seems.
I pull my hands from his and turn to look at the sauce bubbling on the stove.
I pull my hands from his and turn to look at the sauce bubbling on the stove.
I finally manage to spit out, "You care for me?"
He puts his hand on the small of my back.
"Of course I do. You're gorgeous and lithe and graceful and beyond compare."
His hand falls away.
"And married."
"Oh yes, there is that..." I answer.
The room is akwardly silent.
Both of us are weighing the possiblities, the feelings, the risks.
"We can't do this." I speak first.
"No, we cannot."
End of dream.
He puts his hand on the small of my back.
"Of course I do. You're gorgeous and lithe and graceful and beyond compare."
His hand falls away.
"And married."
"Oh yes, there is that..." I answer.
The room is akwardly silent.
Both of us are weighing the possiblities, the feelings, the risks.
"We can't do this." I speak first.
"No, we cannot."
End of dream.
You are a sick, sick girl and I love you for it. By the way, great shot of Simon!
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh!!! I am laughing so hard I could pee my pants...you have totally embarrassed me and made me so uncomfortable it is goofy. You actually admitted to the "I think I might be married dream..." and so classy. I have never had the horror of dreaming about Simon, but I have often been at my wedding with different assorted, dare I say unattractive men and wondered that I seem to remember this other guy and we have kids but his name escapes me....or is he a figment of my imagination. You are so real - thanks and give Asia a big kiss for me.
ReplyDeletePS-I have never drempt about Asia - but I have about a friends' old step dad....very creepy.
thoughts from the deep recesses indeed, got to wonder about all the symbolism in that one. too funny. ahh
ReplyDeleteFrom one Simon dreamer to another....very, very funny!! I don't think Simon ever told me I was lithe and graceful. (Not one person in my whole life has ever told me I'm lithe and graceful!) But, we did have some great laughs together, and don't you think he is much sweeter when you are one on one with him? :-)
ReplyDeleteOh MY heartstrings! This had me belly laughing out loud with my husband asking me what so funny... I didnt tell him but I went on with my day just giggling from time to time. This is just way too funny. Simon is such a dollface... I havent dreamt about him but goodness this was funny.
ReplyDeletePriceless!