John Mayer dream

I’m in my hometown. I cross the bridge. I go into a shop where they still have Christmas decorations out. I’m looking for cupcakes. (I used to know more about this part, but then the dream got better, so I forgot)

I walk past the video rental store, but it has been boarded up for years. I’m talking to Meme about all the changes the town has been through.

I’m talking to this girl who was a year ahead of me in school. I talk to guys so much that I’m desperate to talk to girls. She gets bored with me and leaves.

I’m at the bar. A drink in front of me, blogging on my phone. Two chairs away, around the corner of the bar is John Mayer. We make eye contact. I smile politely, but then ignore him. This just makes him want to talk to me more. So when our eyes meet once again, he starts a conversation. I reply politely again, and go to ignore him again, buy he can’t take it, so he moves to the chair next to me. He’s feeling chatty. I’m pretending I don’t know who he is and I am letting him talk like he is the random guy at the bar.

We are out at the cottages. He’s playing guitar for me. He wants to do a recording, but we need bugspray. So I’m looking for it. In a canoe. In the house across the street. I pass the house where the girl who didn’t want to talk to me lives. She is home alone and wants to talk now. But I ignore her and in my mind I think, Sorry Bi-atch, but you wouldn’t talk to me, so I got John Mayer.

I’m trying to convince him the best place to record is in this little room in the house. We can lock ourselves in there. We talk about the snowopalypse that neither of us endured because it is summer and I know he lives in Cali. I finally admit that I know who he is—he’s this dorky guy who was a year ahead of me in school.

He’s amazed I remember. He was only at my school for a year. (He was never really at my school. This is a dream, people!) I still pretend I don’t know he has changed his name and is now John Mayer.

But I’m tired now. So we lay down in the bed next to Mom because I’m supposed to share with her because there aren’t enough beds for everyone. (Freud would have a field day with this) Mom, John Mayer, me.

Then John Mayer and me are making out. Then John Mayer is on top of me. John Mayer is enormous. (I’m sure he is happy that when girls who don’t know him, girls who don’t even think he is that hot, have sex dreams about him, that even they know he is extremely well endowed)

Mom wakes up because John Mayer is not quiet. She gets pissed off. I tell John Mayer that we should find another room. Mom says I’ll wake Meme. I think to myself that even with John Mayer being loud, Meme won’t be able to hear us. Why am I getting cock blocked!

Then I wonder about John Mayer’s horse-sized schlong, and I wonder where it has been. And then I realize I don’t have condoms to fit that thing, and I don’t trust him not to have picked up some crazy disease. And while I’m thinking this, I fall asleep. When I wake up, he’s gone.

Then I wake up for real and wonder what triggered that dream! Now can I go back to sleep and stop blogging? I was just afraid I wouldn’t remember that one when I wake up again later and I know you all will enjoy making fun of me for that one.

Oh, and to help you understand, this is the last picture I saw of John Mayer.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone


One response to this post.

  1. You have the absolute craziest dreams. And a cabin would indeed be a decent place to record, assuming there’s not a lot of motor noise (ie-boats, lawn mowers, chain saws) outside. Crazy dream.


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