Okay, faithful readers, put on your thinking caps. Can you tell me what these three celebrities all have in common? C'mon, I waiting.
tick tock people, c'mon!
one more minute.
Give up? I can assure you it's not whatever sordid thing you're thinking. All of these celebrities (Frank Sinatra, Jeff Probst, and the mighty Victor Newmann from the Young and the Restless) have made guest appearances in wacky Jackie's dreams.
Yes, my husband dreams in technicolor AND cinemascope.
He's like the bloody Johnny Carson on the dream world, hosting world reknown celebrities night after night. Other heavies to make guest appearances over the years include Evil Kinevil, Sally Struthers, Woody Harrelson, Alfred Hitchcock, the blond chick from ABBA, Ralph Macchio and Sting ('cuz Sting would show up for the opening of an envelope). It's a cast of thousands. I married the Cecil B. Demille of the night life.
And for years, I've been green with envy. Why him?! How far is the journey to my head, really? I mean, I'm RIGHT THERE, one pillow and one furry dog body over to the left! You'd think that after the twelve plus years we've been sleeping together, I would have received at least one celebrity guest. You'd think that at least one midnight visitor would have travelled the inches that separate us to see what snacks i was storing in my green room.
But no. Aside from one quickie visit from Jennifer Lopez a few months back ....and I'm trying to block that experience. Never try to house that skanky J.Lo and her entire entourage in your head at one time, it's very painful. Trust me on this one, kids ....not one appearance.
until last night when this guy showed up:
Yes, that's right. Samuel L. Jackson made a cameo appearance in my dreams last night.
The details: I'm on a train platform, hurrying through the crowd as fast as I can go in extremely high high heels. The crowd parts suddenly, and there he is. Samuel L. Jackson, gleaming ebony man. He's wearing a smart black beret, mirrored sunglasses and a fab leather jacket, strutting smoothly in my direction. Movie star charisma is shaking off him in banners. Everyone else is doing there best to ignore the star in their midst. Not me, I'm GAPING. I mean holy crap....FINALLY!
So I'm gaping, and gawking and my jaw is bouncing off my knees and my dream self remembers that he is in the Toronto area to make a film and that being a staunch environmentalist, he always takes public transit to try to encourage motorists to abandon their polluting pontiacs and porsches and save the ozone. (okay, this is my dream self remember. I have no idea where Samuel L. Jackson stands on public transportation and the ozone and I'm not about to grill him on it for fear the first celebrity to appear in my dreams in like FOREVER will up and vanish on me in a cloud of celebrity scorn)
So, anyway, he sweeps by me so close i could smell his aftershave. Which I don't, in fact, as this is a dream and my dreams are rarely of the scratch and sniff variety. I'm sure Jack has smell-o-rama (he has all the latest in dream technology) but I've been frozen out there too.
And then, and then...well, that's basically it for the Samuel L. Jackson portion of the night. My dreams then advance into general chaos from there, featuring huge steel baskets of free newspapers, some basketball dribbling boys and a vietnam vet in a frayed jean jacket (who kinda looked like Christopher Lloyd if you squinted right) going all ginsu on his forearm and then throwing the knife RIGHT OVER my shoulder. Kinda like that trailer years ago for Robin Hood starring Kevin Costner, where the arrow goes splintering by in a spectacular display of special effects wizardry.
Samuel L. Jackson, folks. 1994 Oscar nominee Samuel L. Jackson. In MY dreams. Kewl!
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