That's the last time I put my heart in Julia Robert's hands.

One of my greatest fears, next to fish and underwater creatures (that includes seaweed, by the way) is “Being-forced-into-an-insane-asylum-when-you’re-not-insane-but-the-guards-think-everyone’s-insane-even-you-so-you’re-trapped-forever.” This is why movies like Changeling with Angelina Jolie and Shutter Island and Gothica and movies of that ilk (5 points!) stress me out so very much. It scares me.

[Isn't this how all those movies are?]

That being said, I think my brain is trying to figure out how to give me an unconscious panic attack. Or kill me. Or something evil like that.

[Evil like DROPPING A CAGE OVER ME IN MY SLEEP!]

I had a dream last night that I was an actor playing the role of a professor who worked at a university that was, for some reason, attached to an insane asylum. This was a difficult role for me, as this actor, because I had once been forced into an insane asylum but released later when I was found “non-insane.”  (This is, once again, my mind actually making up the background information necessary for the plot to move forward. So strange how that happens.) 

In the movie, I was pursuing my love interest, Julia Roberts (no joke, it was hard to keep my cool during the flirting scene). 

[We would have good-looking babies with really large mouths.]

But my plans to seduce her were somewhat thwarted (5 points!) when I realized that two of the patients at the asylum had escaped and were coming to get me. This was totes not what my character wanted, especially in this period of my romantic life.

The movie cameras followed me into my character’s apartment, where I walked around very carefully, turning on lights, trying to make sure that none of the escapees were waiting for me around the corner.

BUT THEY WERE!  There was a fight scene, but I ended up victorious (as scripted).  I had them by the scruffs of their necks as I walked them back down the stairs, occasionally banging them into the wall or something to remind them how tough I am, and brought them to the officers, who met me outside the building.

“Here they are,” I said proudly, but the officer put handcuffs on me. This was not scripted. He also administered a mugshot and measured my proportions.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

And then Julia walked in wearing a saffron-colored jacket. (There was some sort of symbolism there, but I can’t remember it now. Nevertheless, I said…) “You’re the woman in the saffron jacket?!” 

[Whore.] 

She smiled. She had set me up. Her flirting with me was just a ruse (5 points!) to get me to trust her.  The whole movie was a ploy to get me, myself, the actor, not the character,  back in the insane asylum!

I was so pissed.

So I was forced back into a windowless cell.

And then I woke up, realizing that it was an hour later than I had set my alarm (apparently the AM/PM distinction is important), and being anxious as all get-out. That’s the last time I eat sharp cheddar pretzels covered with melted cheese before I go to bed. I should have known; I should have known.