Sweet Dream Or Beautiful Nightmare: Nah, It Was A Sweet Dream
“Dreams” is a strange word. It adheres to feasible aspirations, or goals, like moving to a city you’ve always hoped to live in and pursuing your career. But then there are the dreams like becoming best friends with Beyoncé, touring with her and watching her perform with your musician boyfriend that can only come after you’ve watched too many YouTube videos of “Countdown” remakes and fallen asleep on your laptop.
That’s the glory of real dreams, though, the ones that happen when you shut your eyes — anything can happen. And everything did. Here, presented with much enthusiastic commentary, is the best dream I’ve ever had:
The dream began in LA at a pool party where I was surrounded by music industry stars. Blue Ivy was perched on my hip and Kelly Rowland was asking if I could toss her another beer. Beyoncé, or Bey as I called her because we were on a nickname basis, had just come down from the house and was frustrated because Husband Hov, aka Jay-Z, was going to be late for the party as he was held up in the studio. She sidled over with a cocktail prepared just for me as we both looked up to see a helicopter with paparazzi circling the private property overhead. She sighed a heavy and extremely glamorous sigh while Blue reached out to be held by her mother. Bey scooped up her little one and said, “You know, we try so hard to build this private world for her,” as she looked down at the squirming toddler in her arms. “I don’t want her growing up under the microscope. But people just won’t let us have that, huh?” We both flipped off the paparazzi* and suggested to the guests that their antics were best served up fresh indoors. When then proceeded to have a bomb ass evening.
In another dream scene, I sat side stage, in a state of nonplussed excitement, in the moments before Beyoncé launched into another sold-out performance. She grabbed my hand and mouthed, “Let’s go!” before she charged onto the brightly lit stage. I watched in awe as my best friend, the queen diva herself, captivated an audience of thousands. Yes, she played all the hits including “Schoolin’ Life” because she knows that’s my favorite song. She’s a very thoughtful friend in that way.
Bey and I, both being Texan women, retreated to the homeland after tour wrapped. We detoured to Dallas after spending the weekend eating BBQ and Vietnamese food in Houston. Once again, the paparazzi found us so we sought refuge in my parents house, where my boyfriend met up with us. We had to hang in the garage, as it was the only place in the house without windows, where said musical boyfriend busted out a guitar. He started playing Iggy Pop’s “Search and Destroy” while Bey, being a woman of many tastes and talents, chimed in. In my dream brain, I got to watch Beyoncé and the man I love sing one of my all time favorite punk songs on an acoustic guitar in my parents garage.**
When the heat died down, we rang up Bey’s classic car guy in Dallas and had him drive over a 1970s Chevelle SS. We hopped in the car and drove off into the sunset. That’s honestly how the dream ended. I rode off into the sunset with Beyoncé.
What should this dream teach you? The short answer is to watch more pop singer music videos before bed. But the bigger lesson is to delight in the imaginative world that unfurls when we sleep — even better if that world involves hanging with the Queen B.
*We will consider this a REM sleep nod to the classic Heath Ledger and Michelle Williams shot, complete with sign that reads, “Fuck Off!”
**Best thing that’s ever not really happened to me
