...I can never look at Keith Urban the same way again...
by Katie Langley
Having a job that confines me to four walls for 8+ hours each day, coupled with my overactive imagination and love of all things quirky means that I have some very interesting dreams (some might say it’s because of other substances but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it). I have decided to start writing them down in a kind of dream journal, and you are lucky enough to get a glimpse into the inner workings of my mind. You will soon learn that it’s a weird and wonderful place.
Last week I dreamt that I was in a relationship with Puffy Daddy. Or P Diddy. Or Puffy. Or whatever it is he is calling himself these days. Regardless, we were in love. But wait, there was more. How can I put this? To describe what happened using titles of his songs: I was his ‘Nasty Girl’ and we went ‘Bump, Bump, Bump’.
A few days later my dream self was at a dress up party in South Africa hosted by none other than Die Antwoord. I know, right?! My actual self would love to be at that party. I can’t really be sure what the theme was, but I was dressed Whitney Houston. Yes, you read that correctly. I was having an awesome time, until the police arrived because they’d received a tip off about drugs. My dream self, dressed as Whitney Houston was totally packing, so my last dream memory is running and hiding in the bushes.
There was also an occasion that I dreamt I lived next door to Wayne Static. He was quite the lovely neighbour and offered to come over and mow my lawn. Please note that is not a euphemism.
As bizarre as my dream self can get, and although my dream with Puffy Daddy was quite confronting, I’m not sure it will ever be as funny as the sex dream my friend had about Keith Urban. Ooops, I don’t think I was supposed to tell anyone.