Last night, I dreamed I was walking topless through the Jardin du Luxembourg with Jake Gyllenhaal. It was broad daylight, and he was slightly ahead of me–sort of how Nicole had to walk behind Tom during their marriage. You may find this hard to believe but there was nothing romantic between me and Jake*. I was covering my boobs with a magazine, hoping the paparazzi didn’t catch us walking together. They’d get the wrong idea. Even worse, I feared we’d be Deux Moi-ed, which is far more frightening because anyone can out you. I was more worried about Jake’s reputation than mine. How shameful for him to be caught with me. My reputation could take the hit since I am not really on an upward trajectory professionally. And, you know, sometimes one walks topless through a garden in the daytime. Frankly, I’d seen worse behavior IRL and the “offenders” wound up thriving. But Jake. No, his career wouldn’t survive this scandal caused by me.
The scene changes and it’s evening. My best friend is Winona Ryder, but I am trying to avoid her. She’s wearing this beautiful burgundy dress, posing against a bright yellow building. Her hair is very Marilyn, like she’s about to do a commercial shoot, except she’s suddenly escaped the pageantry and is coming after me for a chat. The setting couldn’t be more gorgeous for a party, which is where we are. I’m hiding around corners, dreading the moment when she realizes I don’t want to talk. You don’t run away from Winona Ryder. Except I’m a little drunk. She would ruin the buzz, my moment as queen of the night. Then I feel bad because what are we if not royalty together? I let her find me and that’s where the dream ends.
There are so many morals to the story:
Never let Jake walk in front of you.
Sure, you might get arrested for exhibitionism but just take it one step at a time.
If Winona Ryder wants to be your best friend, you accept this with gratitude and joy. That’s it.