Thursday, March 31, 2011

George In My Jungle


Last night I had a dream. About George Clooney.


It was odd – I was in this huge room where a judge was presiding over some strange proceedings that involved a ballroom full of people. Old Georgie was in a suit, doing his best old-world impression. We were having a lovely time. It was all very PG-rated, much like an old Hepburn movie. There was dancing, there were stolen glances, there was a dazzling smile or two (his, not mine).


Despite the fact that there was a very thriller-film twist somewhere in the middle of it all (I believe I was being chased by a man who wanted to kill me, and who had already killed the judge), it was a lovely dream. It wasn’t until I was at breakfast this morning that I noticed my wedding ring wasn’t on my finger.


I found it placed carefully on my bedside table, stacked neatly atop my engagement ring. This is the second time this has happened – that I’ve taken off my wedding set in the middle of the night. Last time I made it to work before I noticed it was missing.


George and I must have been having a better time than I had realized.

2 comments:

Megan said...

I love everything about this post! I have had a bit of an obsession with George Clooney since I first fell in love with him during his ER days. You must have had a healthy dose of dream guilt to take your rings off. :)

Jenn said...

There is something very classy about him. Maybe it's because he's so unattainable. I don't know. And the dream guilt was palpable.