The other night I had a dream where I was tutoring Paris Hilton in yoga. Yeah...tutoring. Apparently I was more involved with her practice then just the poses. I was teaching her Sanskrit and philosophy and about dharma and karma. All that stuff. Any way, we were at her house, having class when I realized I had left something out in the car. Paris jumps up (yeah, we're on a first name basis) and says that she'll go get it, the whatever it was I left in my car. No biggie. I tell her it's not that important, but she insists and then runs outside. I shrug and think "what ever". But she's gone for a really long time. So I go outside to look for her and realize my car is gone. Paris Hilton has "borrowed" my car. I'm thinking what in the world could she possibly want with my car. It's a crappy four door, white, Chevy Cavalier. Suddenly, Chris is there and I tell him what has happened. We decide to get in his car (no, I don't remember what kind it is) and drive around the neighborhood, looking for her. The entire time I'm going on and on about how I just don't understand why she took my car. I'm also worried that something could have happened to her (like she's a lost dog or something). Any way...we finally find her. She's at a gas station, putting gas in my car. And just as I'm thinking "oh, how nice; Paris Hilton is filling up my gas tank for me", I wake up.
Yup, I don't get it either. Maybe I'd like to think that I could even teach Paris Hilton to be a kind, generous, and courteous person. Maybe deep down, I know I'm so good at this, I could teach anybody. Maybe I smoked crack before I went to bed. Who the Hell knows. At least it didn't turn out to be one of those dreams that wakes you with a start, shivering in a cold sweat.