Thank you, Paul, for killing my dream

Two nights ago, I had the most incredible dream that I was seriously dating P. Diddy. I’m not really ga-ga over him in real life, but hey, if that’s the kind of guy I end up with, I’m not complaining. Sounds like the average dream, right? But this is one of MY dreams, so you know it’s about to get weirder.

This is all taking place at like a ho-down thing. It’s actually the exact same picture I get in my head when I listen to “Rocky Racoon” when Rocky’s fighting Dan.

Anyway, trying to figure out where this dream all started, but I can only trace it back to the point where I’m making out with Diddy in the back of a parked hay ride. Well, miniature hay ride. It was like one of those pickup trucks with a wooden fence-like thing around the bed. It had hay in it. It was a ride. It was a hay ride.

So this was a fun dream. Funny how dreams can be like movies with cuts and fades and zooms and slo-mo effects. Anyway, all of a sudden it cuts to a point where I’m wandering around the setting what has turned desolate and almost fake stage looking. Diddy is doing this concert-like thing in one of these barns. I wasn’t there. Dunno why. So then I was questioning where our relationship was going and he sent out one of his guys to discuss things with me who looked like that hottie from “Above the Rim” who shot Tommy at the end. (Sorry to kill the ending for whoever hasn’t seen it. )

So Mr. Hottie takes me into this big, dim, empty, barn-like shed to talk about Diddy and what’s up as far as where we stand, whether it was a fling or whatever. Last thing he was in the middle of saying was that I was different than the others. Haha! Take that, Jenny from the block! All this time we keep getting interrupted by EVERYONE and EVERYTHING. We keep kicking people out or moving to another barn. Finally, Paul barges in needing to talk about something. I’m like, “Can’t this wait?!” He’s like, “NO, it can’t.” We try to avoid him by leaving him there and like beaming ourselves into other places (which is perfectly normal in dreams), but he keeps finding us!! Arghhh.

It then cuts to the point where I guess we let Paul have his way and pay attention to what he’s doing. He’s proposing to this girl and I guess he wanted to ask advice on it. This moose of a woman is middle-aged, fat as anything, around 6′ tall, wearing a lime green laced moo-moo (sp?), and basically looks like an enormous version of the stereotypical lunch lady, hair net and all.

In this dream, it was customary to propose to someone in the middle of a circle of people, much like in elementary school music class where you’d play “Farmer in the Dell” and there’s a circle of people surrounding the “Farmer” as he picks a wife. So me and Mr. Hottie are standing there at the perimeter, rolling our eyes, waiting for it to end. Paul then says in the most deadpan voice you can imagine, “I want you to marry me.” At this time, he pulls out a large flip flop from his back pocket (magic back pocket like a clown car) and tosses it on the ground. The lime green flip flop had the typical flip flop bottom but had what looked like several strings around the top that held the shoe to the foot. Tied on these strings was a giant 1″ diameter diamond. Bling bling, Paul.

So picture this, “I want you to marry me.” <plop> The equally deadpan look on the woman’s face said to everyone that she consented.

Just then a random voice in the crowd pipes up, “HEY!! That’s not the way it’s supposed to happen!! You’re supposed to put it on her foot!” I guess that’s why you have an audience—never know when you need help with the traditional proposal. So Paul does just this. He takes the flip flop, but alas to his dismay, it’s a few sizes too big and keeps falling off. BUT, Paul comes prepared! (Only in dreams.) Gorilla woman had monstrously hairy feet, which her beau knows quite well. He was equipped with a few bobby pins which he used to attach the flip flop to her foot so it wouldn’t fall off. So we have an engagement. Congrats to the apathetic couple.

Now that this whole interruption is over, me and Hottie can get back to our convo about Diddy and stuff. Just then I wake up. &@!^*#!@^&%!*@#@!# PAUL!!! If you could’ve just waited 5 minutes for your engagement, I’d have gotten an answer. AUGHHH!!!

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