A day by day and often hourly account of a temp

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Lost Boy

So last night I dreamed that Kiefer Sutherland and I were hanging out in his palatial pad in the Hills. We were just chilling out, talking about nothing in particular and every now and again a "friend" of his would walk by and grab something out of the fridge or comment on the weather or something, in the way that stoner moneygrubbing fair weather friends of celebrities do. It's kind of like that guy who lives in your college house, and no one really remembers telling him he could live there but there is a sleeping bag in the dining room and knows his way around a kitchen so you just figure someone told him he could stay.

Quick aside, when I first moved into my college house there was this weird summer to fall transition and at one point there were nine people living in a four bedroom house. The guy in the dining room was this 7 foot tall guy named Mike, whom we appropriately called "Daddy Mike" due to the fact that he was tall and occasionally shared his spaghetti with us. When he moved out, no one knew that he had or why. Much like my real daddy.

Anyway, at one point I almost turn to Kiefer and say, "Dude, you are awful calm. You know you just got arrested for a DUI and you might have to go to jail," but he just seemed so happy I figured I'd let him be. What's weird is that even though it was my dream, Kiefer was just as short as he is in real life. Because even in my dreams I am practical.


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