More Halle And Less Whoopi

Dreams are supposed to be the unconscious mind allowing you into a fantasy world. If it's my fantasy world, then why am I tortured in my land of slumber? Not only do I have the dumbest dreams, but I also have the most unattractive women in my dreams.

Yes, the women in my dreams are average at best. How sad is that? It's not that I'm looking to go into each dream thinking I'm a thirty-something Hugh Hefner starting an empire, but it would be nice if my dreams were actually "dreams".

Instead, I torture myself unconsciously and I wish that I knew why. Last night, I had a dream that a fan of my blog wanted to meet me. The fact that someone is excited enough over my blog to want to meet me is a clear indication that I was dreaming! So, in my so-called dream, I meet this lady at a local bar and she looks like Forest Whitaker from "Battlefield Earth".


Not again. Yet another dream without someone decent to bring a smile to my face. At this point, I would even settle for one of those anorexic Cosmo Mag models, but I can't even get that. Wait. Let me retract that. I'm not desperate enough to want Bulimic Belinda in my dreams.

Even when I was a teen-ager, I had the same issue. My wall was covered with posters of Lisa Lisa, Vanity, Sheila E. and Sheena Easton, yet I never had one dream about them. Instead, my dreams had ordinary or less than ordinary-looking women in them.

Why can't I get more Halle (Berry) and less Whoopi (Goldberg)?

Like an eagle, I've flown in my dreams, yet all I see are crows.

I've fought crime like Batman, but instead of Catwoman, there's only Joker.

I've even scored the winning touchdown in the Super Bowl, but instead of dancing with cheerleaders, I wind up high-fiving the mascot.

Now, I have a very vivid imagination, so you would think my dreams would be filled with Monica Raymunds and Angie Conwells. Instead, I get stuck with ladies who look like Christopher Walken in drag.

Maybe my imagination isn't as good as I thought.