At 5:23 a.m. this morning, I shot straight up in bed and screamed, “GODDAMN YOU BRON!”
Last night, I had what had the potential to be an awesome dream. I’m not generally a fan of listening to other people’s dreams sharing my dreams, but I’m gonna do this because it’s my blog and you are powerless to stop me. Other than just not reading it, I guess. In which case, I guess I am utterly powerless and shouldn’t have come at you so antagonistic right out of the gate. But anyway.
To follow this story, you’re going to have to be aware of several things. Which you probably already know from other posts but probably did not retain due to remembering stuff that’s actually important, but I’ll bring everyone up to speed.
- I am the president of a small NFPO called the Grand Rapids Region Writers Group, a professional organization dedicated to helping writers in all fields achieve their goals. We usually meet at a restaurant so we can all have lunch.
- My friend Bronwyn Green is also involved in this group.
- I wrote a book called Such Sweet Sorrow for a guy named Nick Harris and his company The Story Foundation.
- I have a very slight, very minor crush on a celebrity I may or may not have mentioned in the past:
- I am a Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones fanatic. As in, I know the geography of Westeros better than the geography of my own country, which one prompted my husband to interrupt my excruciatingly detailed description of the location of Pentos with, “Jen, what’s the capitol of Wisconsin.”
- The capitol of Wisconsin is not Cheesebaywaulkee.
So, now that we’re all caught up, here’s what happened in the dream:
For some reason, GRRWG was having its monthly meeting at The Wall. Maybe just because we’re from Michigan and we’d feel fine there. Oddly, it was at our usual restaurant, but the restaurant was at The Wall. Whatever. A server came in and asked us to wrap up the meeting because another group had reserved the room. So we collected up our stuff and were rushing to leave when Bronwyn said, “What about books for bucks? We can’t just leave them.”
Oh. Yeah.
.7 Books for bucks is this fundraiser we do where members bring their old books and you can buy them for a dollar and the money goes to GRRWG.
Anyway.
So, we had this mountain of paperbacks and another group waiting to use the room, and Bronwyn Green goes, “Well, my purse is pretty big, your laptop bag is pretty big, I bet we could get all of these really fast.”
As we’re stuffing the books into the bags, I look out and notice that in the other party waiting to use the room is Nick Harris. And I was like, “Hey, Nick is out there,” and Bronwyn goes, “Go out and say hi, I’ve got this.” I go out and say hi, and Nick is like, “There’s somebody here I want you to meet.”
And it is Anthony Motherbitching Head.
I’m mentally pep talking myself: Okay, you can do this. You can do this without being creepy. So what if you wrote an entire series of obscenely graphic erotic romances in which the hero is modeled directly on how this dude looked and sounded and made facial expressions in 2005? You’ve got this. You’re a professional. Be a professional. And for god’s sake, do not make that snorting noise you made when you’re sexually nervous.
But I was totally professional. I was charming and upfront about being a fan, but not inappropriately upfront, I never mentioned this blog or my tumblr, and he was gracious, and everybody in the conversation were relating to each other on a level of professional respect as creators, and discussing my book but not that particular series, and I was like I’m doing it. I’m being a big shot. I am so cool.
And then Bronwyn comes out carrying my laptop bag and yells, “Hey Jen, here’s your purse!”
And I must remind you, my laptop bag? Looks like this:
Both Neil Tony (he said I could call him Tony in the dream, I’m not being presumptuous) and Nick looked at me with a sort of polite, restrained horror, and then Nick coughed and said, “Oh look, the room is ready,” and they hightailed it out of there.
And that’s why at 5:23 a.m this morning I shot straight up in bed and screamed, “GODDAMN YOU BRON!”
Not really a fan of listening to other people’s dreams either, but this was an awesome dream story with an awesome conclusion.
I fantasise all the time about what I’d say if I met someone famous. It’s an incredibly pointless thing to do because I live in a tiny country in Europe and don’t go on vacation a lot, so when am I gonna meet someone famous? Also, I’m way too shy to step up to someone, which means that if I did meet someone famous I wouldn’t actually *meet* them so much as creepily stare at them from a distance.
But hey, let me have my fantasy where I meet Aaron Paul and we fall in love and get married and live happily ever after all because I was super cool when I somehow met him. Sigh.
I’ve had some great experiences meeting celebs, then some where I’ve been so nervous and tongue-tied I just shouted at them, LOL.
Also, my future husband is in this new movie called Decoding Annie Parker (a movie which looks ever so slightly like it might be a real downer) and his hair looks like ass and he still looks unbearably cute. How does he do that?
Ruining your life, one ASH dream at a time…
Someday I will have my vengeance.
That is seriously hilarious!
Thanks! I had a good laugh about it.
Hmmm . . . Grand Rapids sounds so much more exciting than I thought it was. I will have to re-evaluate that mindset. 😉 Thank you for sharing.
It’s really not that interesting. Probably why we moved the meeting to The Wall.
Lmao omg yes! Best dream recap ever!
But worst dream ever!
I totally thought you meant *this* Bronn:
http://www.remotepatrolled.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/Bronn-game-of-thrones-300×168.png
And was imagining some kind of sexy-time between him and Giles….
Oh, the most embarrassing moment of my life, trying to talk to my idol, Henry Rollins, for the first time…
I am German and as I approached him, I opened my mouth, and the part of my brain responsible for the English language went blank… I just stood there, looking retarded.
My Boyfriend took the dvd out of my hands, gave it to him: “She’s a really big fan, could you please sign this…”
Sooooo embarrassing….
The next try, a few years later, I actually talked to him.
The mix of pain and adrenalin had to be god for something…
But being a real fangirl, having a mayor surgery on Thursday, getting out of the hospital Monday morning, couldn’t stop me from seeing him on Monday evening.
I mean, it was just spoken words, I could sit, or something like that, and it was totally worth it.
Two weeks later, 1,5 hours drive, to see him again. Hey, it was his birthday, no way I would miss this.
I even waited one hour in the freezing could, to talk to him again. The only female and the only one with a present… but again, worth it.
My daughter had Philip Quast as a mentor at acting school. I am well known for being able to talk non stop on any social occasions. Daughter introduced me to Philip fucking Quast after her performance. I was speechless. Actually speechless. He is to tall, no big, impressive, charismatic. The greatest Javert ever.
He was perfectly lovely and clearly supportive of the students. I just couldn’t think of anything coherent to say. It is now a family legend.
So if i totally understand your dream. I hope I didn’t snort. Also, husband was there while I was busy being overwhelmed and turned on.