The Power of Imagination

I went to a wedding in Santa Monica the other night. Being that I live in Hollywood and there was an open bar, I had arranged to crash at my friend's house near the hotel, so as not to have to drive home after the party. So, at the end of what turned out to be a long night, I walked the six blocks or so to my buddy's house, drunk, and passed out on his air mattress in the living room.

The next morning, predictably, I did not feel too hot. My head hurt, my friend's roommate (whom I had never met) was wandering around the living room, and I was immediately overcome with a powerful desire to go home. This was going to be a painful process to go through, however, and I began to wonder how long it would be before my friend awoke and could drive me back to the hotel to get my car.

Eventually, when I could wait no longer, I decided to suck it up. I put my suit back on, the only clothes I had, then walked the fifteen minutes back to the Sheraton in the blinding morning sunlight, averting judgmental stares from people out jogging or walking their dogs. I waited around uncomfortably for the valet to retrieve my car, then slogged through the half hour drive to get home. Of course, on the way, I had to stop for gas, an extra errand at a time I least wanted to do it. The whole thing sucked.

And then...I woke up.

I was still in my friend's house, on the air mattress, on the floor, in my underwear, with a powerful hangover. I had actually just dreamed my way through the entire logistical nightmare of getting home, with amazingly monotonous realism. So then, when I actually arose in real life, put on my suit, walked back to the hotel, got my car, stopped to pump gas, and eventually drove home, mentally I was doing it for the second time.

Thanks a lot, brain. You're a real delight sometimes.