Dreams (NSFW)

So, I’ve been having some weird dreams lately. The unusual common ground is that they feature a celebrity that I hadn’t really paid attention to before the dream and then post-dream can’t seem to stop thinking about.

A few weeks ago, I had a dream about Shaun White. This was not long after he didn’t medal at Sochi, and I joked that my subconscious decided he was attainable at that point. In the dream, I’m on some kind of odd giant bus, that has a bar-height table along one side, with those little round, fixed bar stools. I was sitting at the bar watching as SUVs were parked on snowy precipices, for ad photography. Shaun White was walking from the back of the bus to the front, and I (being elevated in height by the bar stool) ran my fingers through his hair. Then, I said that his hair was soft and matched mine, or something like that. Next dream scene, we’ve migrated to a convenient bed at the front of the bus. We’re tearing at clothes and macking like pros. My elementary school best friend is sitting in a standard bus seat nearby and looks judgmental. It doesn’t impede our progress. Still half-dressed, we start fucking, and it is, of course, awesome. Many positions are used, and I remember liking his freckles.

Last night, it was James Franco. There was some sort of heist going on. He was part of a gang trying to scam money by running a charity carnival. I was trying to not get caught by them, so I’m hiding in boxes and under things. (The gang is more Young Guns than 8 Mile.) They eventually catch me, of course. To avoid being locked away with the other hostages, I convince James Franco that I can help with the carnival. I pretend to be a customer and talk up the carnival games and prizes. I grab a shirt as a prize, but it has lots of holes in it, so I try to make up some story about why that’s better. Then, I go to a bingo game (I think this part was thanks to playing 2048, as the card looked kind of like the Pokemon 2048 that I was playing). While I’m there, a person next to me comments that the shirt has holes in it, and the gang decides that I’m not actually helping, so they toss me in with the other hostages. Then, the dream restarts, like it’s a video game. I go through the whole thing again, except at the part where I convince James Franco to let me help, I also mention that I’ve done this already and I know exactly where they’re going to go wrong. I mention the holes in the shirts and tell them not to use holey shirts as prizes. (You’d think this would have been obvious, but maybe he was high or something.) The other gang members don’t buy that I’m a time traveler, but James Franco believes me and convinces them I’m cool. Then, he takes me over to the bingo game, and we talk while playing. I get nervous, because this is where I failed at the (meta) game the first time. But this time, he leans in and kisses me, and then I’m on the bingo counter, and he’s standing up. My dream skips the practicality of clothes removal. We just end up fucking on the counter. I try to brace myself and end up sending a pile of bingo cards skidding off the counter. The carnival attendees and the barker politely leave us while we finish. I remember he says something about wishing he’d done this sooner, and I wonder if he also remembers the previous attempt at the video game.

So, now I’m wondering how James Franco wandered into my subconscious. The only thing I can figure is that it’s because I recently learned that he’s my age, and I’ve been recently realizing that the number of popular celebrities that are my age is decreasing, because I’m getting old, yo. The weirdest part about these dreams is that the celebs become irresistible candy for me for awhile after. I re-watched the Bound 3 video parody that Franco and Rogen did, and it was more hot than funny this time. I’m trying to decide whether watching Freaks and Geeks today would get it out of my system or make it worse.

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