I don’t remember the details of the dream itself, but I was saying on top of it, like a soundtrack, the mantra “My father is not a Patriot.” (meaning a New England Patriot)
I dreamt I was entering a pro-basketball game from the locker room following all of the players out onto the court. I popped a bottle of champagne as all of the fans started to cheer. It spilled all over the court and LeBron James was furious.
I dreamt that Harry Styles had hundreds of piercings all over his chest and stomach; some of the earring pairs were still attached to their white backing card. He also had a puppet stage mounted around his upper body to sell his merchandise while he walked around.
I drempt that Bill Gates was crying in my arms and, to comfort him, I said, “You are my father,” and he pulled away and said, “That’s too far.”
I dreamt Mariska Hargitay was lying on a bathroom floor dying but couldn’t reach the Comet cleanser that she needed to eat to survive.
I dreamt that I was told my recycling had to be hung in plastic bags high up in trees and someone had to stand under each one overnight until the recycling truck came. I refused, but Will Smith said that he would standunder one of mine and Matthew McConaughey said he would stand under the other.
I dreamt I was in front of a thick and infinite wall of white post-it notes on the other side of which I could hear Trump asking for more meat from the grill.
I dreamt I was in a chariot race holding on to the rail behind charioteer Spartacus. I was looking back at my right leg which was severed but for one sinew keeping it waving in the wind. I was annoyed that it was slowing us down with its drag.
[I think it was Ben Hur, not Spartacus, who raced a chariot, both as played by Kirk Douglas. Regardless, in the dream, it was Kirk Douglas, as Spartacus, in a chariot.]
I dreamt that I was at a sleepover with Barak Obama and Howard Wolowitz (Big Bang Theory). Howard Wolowitz slept on top of Barak Obama’s hat.
I dreamt that Rhea Perlman and I were making toast.