Why Fred Savage, Why?

Even in my most convoluted of dreams, there’s an underlying message I can decipher (or at the very least pretend to decipher). Last night, on the other hand, has left me fucking baffled. I’m not going to just give you a breakdown of the dream, though — Oh no! That wouldn’t do it justice. I shall go into every last details for you, so as no undertone, no matter how subtle, will go unnoticed.

Here goes - my dream from last night:

My female companion and I pull into a row of parking spaces, all of which are empty except for one, in front of an entire auditorium full of luxurious looking seats.

That’s right - directly ahead of our parking spot were rows upon rows of theater type seats. Red ones. We get out of our car, dressed to the nines. Scratch that. She was in some sort of shiny light green dress with her hair in an elaborate bun and I was wearing a tuxedo and sunglasses with light blue lenses.

LIGHT FUCKING BLUE LENSES. IN A TUXEDO.

Oh, and this girl I’m with? Generic cute white chick. No resemblence to anybody I know, have sexed up, dated, or anything like that. In fact, I can’t even begin to describe her to you other than to say she was white, cute, and had brown hair. Oh yeah, and her shiny green dress.

So as we’re walking the ten feet from our dirty parking spot to find our seats, I pull out our tickets from my tuxedo coat pocket. Our seats were D28 and D29 for the Oscars. Shockingly, row D was the fourth row up from the parking spots, and seated two to my left was a beautiful brunette, all by herself wearing a shiny blue dress. We were the only ones there.

The Oscars started in about two hours.

We greeted the chick next to us, then I turned to my date and said, “Wow, we sure got pretty good seats considering we’re not even in movies.” I assumed the generic green japanese car parked two spots from my generic white japanese car belonged to our new friend, since we were the only ones there.

So there we are, seated ten feet from our generic japanese cars, inside the auditorium, waiting for The Oscars to begin — and I do what any other guy would do in this situation. I fall asleep.

In my dream at the Oscars, I fall asleep.

I wake up in a new seat. Now instead of being about ten feet from my car and directly in front of the stage, I’m seated about a hundred feet from my car, to the left of the stage, and directly in front of the bathrooms. I look at my date and ask, “What the fuck happened?” She said she wanted to move because she thought these seats were better, but didn’t want to wake me up - so she just moved me.

As weird as this dream may sound to you, much like the Matrix, it is a world built upon rules. And one of those rules is I would never date someone in a dream I wouldn’t date outside the dream. In other words, my date was about five foot four, and about a hundred and ten pounds. Having said that, let me repeat: She said she wanted to move because she thought these seats were better, but didn’t want to wake me up - so she just moved me.

Glad I cleared that up.

Anyway, I get slightly irritated with her for doing this, but not until I look up at our old seats and see I’d have been sitting next to Courtney Cox had we stayed. I’m not sure why this irritated me, as I’m not a terribly big fan of Courtney Cox’s nor am I attracted to her, but nontheless, it did.

Annoyed by the Courtney Cox incident, I’m about to begin ignoring my date and look at what’s going on up on stage - when out of nowhere, Fred Savage gets up from his seat and heads for the bathroom positioned directly behind me. As he’s walking past me he puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes just a little too hard, and I look up at him as if to say, “Why Fred Savage, why?”

And that’s when I fucking wake up.