Legal Commentary

Nightmare or Sweet Dream?

By Kevin Funnell

My wife fixed her famous vegetarian burritos the other night, so we'll blame this on her.

The night before last, I dreamed that Jennifer Lopez and I are naked, lying on a couch. This is odd, because in real life, we not only don't know one another, but even her much more public persona rarely crosses my radar screen, and when it does, she gives me the impression of being much more trouble than she could ever be worth. In her defense, I assume that she'd never sink so low as to give me a passing glance, much less get "nekkid" with me on anyone's couch. Nevertheless, the subconscious mind is a strange animal and it roams where it will.

We're lying there like we've done this before. It's unspoken, but understood, that we're married lovers cheating on our respective spouses, and that we've been doing this for some time. There's this feeling of familiarity that permeates the dream.

She lowers her eyes and offers to perform an act that would qualify as sexual contact to all but an ex-president, but I've got a more elaborate scenario in mind. I ask her if she has a half-hour to spare. She sits (bolts) upright with a shocked expression and says, "Oh my god! I was supposed to meet Gloria for lunch!"

Whereupon, she gets up from the couch, gets dressed, blows me a kiss, and walks out the door. I get dressed quickly, follow her out, and find her standing there trying to get into a cab, but being pestered by fans who want to talk to her. She tries to speak with me to explain, but strangers keep interrupting her. It's Fall, we're obviously someplace in the East (I grew up in Upstate New York, and it looks like New York City), and leaves are swirling around us in a gusty wind. She looks at me sadly, says "Bye, Lover," and gets in the cab.

I return to the apartment (at least it appears to be an apartment, although it may be an office) in which there are now some construction workers doing some remodeling work. I hadn't noticed them before, probably because they weren't there before. One of them looks at me, gives me a head nod and an upraised eyebrow and asks, "Was that Jennifer Lopez you were with on the couch?"

I reply, "Yeah, but nothing happened, so don't tell my wife. She'd kill me."

"Dude," the workman replies. "You're my hero."

Somehow, I don't feel like a hero. Instead, I feel like a guy who was just naked on a couch with Jennifer Lopez and got stood up for a chick named Gloria.

Of course, when we woke up, I told my wife about it. She laughed so hard she made me laugh, too. She tells me that even my subconcious mind is now totally whipped.

August 14, 2010. I'm officially over the hill. Mark your calendar.

As I reflect upon it, it could have been worse. I could have been naked on a couch with this:

Full post as published by Counseling Kevin on June 14, 2010 (boomark / email).