Well, okay, it didn't happen EXACTLY that way. What did flash through my mind was what it would be like to wake up in the Scottish countryside, birds chirping merrily, sun shining, and Sean Connery across the table from me, winking slyly and chuckling that throaty chuckle of his.
The truth is, I'm happy with my life and my husband and my son. But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to romp about with the rich and famous.
Not ALL the rich and famous. I can't think of any young male actors at this moment that I'd want to dally with. (Jon Hamm is 43. George Clooney is 53. Cary Grant is dead). And yes, in this fantasy of mine, I'm 30 pounds lighter and 20 years younger. It's MY fantasy, I can do that.
My daydream extends to having bff's whom I can call and kvetch with. ("That director was such a douchebag.") I'd like to meet Sandra Bullock. And Jody Foster. I'd love to chat with Shirley MacLaine. But I don't get the Kardashians. (Any of them. At all.)
And I've never wanted to adopt Honey Boo Boo.
"Being a non-celeb has its advantages," I tell myself. I can sit on the front porch in my pajamas with my bird's nest hairdo and drink my coffee and read the paper and no one is snapping pics of me to send to the tabloids. While I need to watch my weight, I don't have to obsess. And I don't have to worry about Angelina Jolie calling me asking for contributions to this or that cause.
No, none of that drama for me. Just the usual day-to-day stuff that makes up my life.
But I can still dream about hitting the bridle path with Robert Redford on his mega-acre ranch, laughing into the wind, as he smiles admiringly at the riding skills of my 25-year-old self.
Sigh. Oh well. A ride in the Toyota to the CWRU book sale with Mr. Ginley will have to do for this old dreamer.
Hi-Ho, Silver, Away!
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