I usually don't remember my dreams or if I do they are not ones I wish to remember but this morning's dream before awakening is still with me--as much as dreams ever can be.
We lived in some kind of attached housing on the second floor with a long balcony running the entire length of the housing. Down below I could see heads of people and horses and bands--a parade was forming and passing. I had an errand to do and was in a hurry to get back in order to see the parade, so I had not combed my hair, brushed my teeth or showered. I did see my husband's butt as he backed out of the shower. I see that cute little thing all the time, though, so that wasn't the memorable part.
Whatever the errand--that part is fuzzy now--I was on the way back across a food court when I spotted out of the corner of my eye Ben Affleck and Matt Damon chatting at a table. I'd heard they were around but I didn't stop to oogle in order to give them the space I know they rarely get. I ascended several of the steps out of the court leading to the long balcony when I felt an arm around my shoulder. I stopped and looked over to see Ben Affleck.
"Oh, hi," I said, as if he were an old friend. "How are you doing?"
"Shoot," he said. "You're a schoolteacher."
Why that would be disappointing I didn't know.
"I'm retired," I said. "How did you know?"
"You handled my hug with aplomb. Regular people go nuts."
"I'm a writer, too," I informed him.
"Come sit down with us a minute," he said.
I told them about all the everyday people I knew whom I considered to be heroes, like the women in my water aerobics class. I talked about my poetry, my essays, my feature articles. Matt talked about a will. (I think my brain was doing the "Good Will Hunting" association.) Ben just goofed around saying goofy things in his charming fashion. I told them about being in Jerry's short demo film sitting in a bathtub full of cool water in my bathing suit in an unheated house in December and how I now understood what long hours actors have to work sometimes.
When I thought they were getting bored, I excused myself. I could tell they liked talking to normal people about everyday things.
I never told them I was a screenwriter or that my sister and I have two spectacular scripts ready for production.
"I don't do that," I told friends later. I go through the proper channels.
When I awoke, I was so upset with myself for neglecting to ask how their respective wives and children were. Whatever will they think of me, one of the great unwashed?