…..In my dreams. No, really!
I was an extra on Daniel Radcliffe’s movie. I didn’t know I was going to meet him. Out of the blue, he was just standing there, talking to someone. Somehow the extras (only 3 of us apparently) also needed to be consulted. After a conversation with the director of which I am blissfully unaware of, I found myself standing alone with him. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I noticed I was staring down at him. That means he was shorter than me. Which is odd because I’m 1.60 m and he is a quoted height of 1.65 m. I was so focused on his face that I noticed he had a bruised cheek below his eye. The more I stared, the blacker it got. I managed to ask, “How’d you get the black eye?” with surprising confidence.
He walked away.
I don’t know why.
He then came back with his hand on his chin, and a few inches taller. People don’t just grow a few inches after a few seconds. I guess my subconscious has been listening to my thoughts.
He then asks me, “Have you ever drank so much that you vomited?” while pointing to his cheek and nodding.
I answered no.
That was the end of our conversation. I don’t know why I’m still a socially-awkward person in my own dream. You would think I’d give myself some superhuman abilities.
The next day, I was driving to the movie set. That should have raised some red flags because I’ve never driven myself anywhere. On a motorcycle, nevertheless. For some reason my boyfriend was driving next to me in his car and looking out his window, constantly checking if I was okay. I guess it must have been my idea then.
Up ahead the road, there was a split that was not-so-obvious. Of course, I drove onto the lane that lead to not-the-movie-set. I realized my mistake when I suddenly lost sight of my boyfriend’s car. It was not clear whether the lane was a one-way or not but since there was no one on the road I decided to make a U-turn. I was also not that far up the road. Obviously, there were traffic officers on the sidewalk as soon as I turned my motorcycle around. They stopped me and said I had to be fined.
I was flabbergasted but that turned into slight irritation when I realized there were no signs of whether the lane was a one-way or not. When I pointed it out to the officer, he unveiled a huge patch of grass that was covered with black plastic bin bags. The white paint on the grass read: ONE-WAY ONLY.
Slight irritation turned into frustration and then full on tears. Luckily, Ellen came to the rescue. Apparently, I was on my way to her studio. I was also a key member of the team that keeps the show running. She saw me, didn’t utter a word, placed a brown paper bag into the officer’s hands, put on her sunglasses and walked away. The officer came back with a 180 degree change in attitude and told me I could go, almost skipping to his car.
That paper bag must have contained some pretty powerful drugs. Thank you Ellen.
THE END. (Not really, but the rest consists of some flying and fighting and eating that you probably don’t need to know about.)