I’m not going to dwell on it or rant about it. My friend, Linda…poor soul… suffered the brunt of that, I fear, as I unloaded on her last night. Suffice to say, if I had anywhere else to go, they would never see my sorry ass at work again, but alas, that is not the case. Just like Richard Gere in “An Officer And A Gentleman,” “I got nowhere else to go. I got nothin’ else.” So, when the alarm sang out this morning, I dragged my aforementioned “sorry ass” out of bed and back to that dark, dismal dungeon. What's a girl to do?
Now on to a much more palatable topic…my Bobby-dream. You know, I rarely, and I do mean “rarely” dream about Bobby or Vincent D'Onofrio, which I find singularly odd because the man is constantly in my head. I go to sleep thinking about Bobby, I wake up thinking about Bobby, and he helps get me through the work day, so I can come home and think about him some more. Yes, I promise you, I am very much aware of just how pathetic that sounds.
As for my Bobby-dream, it started out as if I was “watching” an episode of LO:CI…not on television, however. It was more like I was actually there watching in the background as the story unfolded, but not as a participant. I was more like a spectator, or at least that is how it appeared to me. It began with me watching and hearing Eames and Ross in the squad room at Major Case, talking about Bobby and…wait for it… Nicole Wallace. It seems that Nicole had reappeared, she had Bobby in her sights, and she was out to kill him. Ross said they had Bobby stashed away in a “safe house” and there was no way Nicole could get to him. Famous last words, right?
I remember “dream-thinking” that Nicole was supposed to be…you know…dead, so she could not possibly be a threat to Bobby. And yet, I “scurried” off to find him to “make sure” he was okay. (Note: Yes, in my dreams I can “scurry” which is very unlike my real life “waddle.”) Now, don’t ask me how I knew where to find Bobby…I just did because the next thing I knew, I was standing in an alley, observing a darkly clad figure, who I assume was Nicole, skulking around a fire escape. As I watched from the shadows, she started jumping up, trying to grab hold of the bottom rung of the ladder and pull it down, but she couldn’t reach it, so Nicole eventually gave up and started pulling planks of wood off a boarded up window.
The next thing I know, I’m in a bedroom. Not just any bedroom, mind you…Bobby’s Bedroom!! There was an unmade bed…I remember the rumpled sheets…on one side of the room with the headboard against the wall beside the door. I mention that because I was standing next to the headboard “watching” the “scene” develop. There was a couch along the wall to the right, and I became aware of Bobby talking to someone. It was Nicole. She…like myself…had “magically” appeared in the room.
I could “hear” Bobby’s calm, soft voice…I had not seen him yet…telling Nicole that he was not surprised to see her; he always knew she would show up again, and that she would never get away with what she was contemplating. You know the routine. He was in full “Bobby-mode” – that quirky, mystical “talk ‘em to death” way Bobby has of making people spill their guts. Sometimes, I think the criminals confess just to get him to shut the hell up. Anyway, the next thing I heard was Nicole telling Bobby, in that annoying voice of hers, not to worry; she wasn't going to kill him...yet. She just wanted him to keep talking to her until she was ready to finish him off. Turns out, Nicole liked the sound of his voice, too. Go figure.
Then I “saw” him. Bobby strode out of the shadows, across the room, to the couch and sat down. He was wearing a dark gray suit, no tie, and his shirt was open at the collar, but for the life of me, I cannot recall the color of the shirt he was wearing. And he looked the way I like him best…longish hair and “stubble” (like in the photo at the end of this post.) He continued to talk to Nicole the whole time and, after he sat down, he patted the cushion next to him. I was horrified (and, perhaps, a little hurt) at the thought of him actually inviting that “she-devil-witch” to sit beside him on the sofa.
But then something positively amazingly wonderful happened, and Bobby turned his dark head toward me, looked me straight in the eye and said, “You.”
I don’t remember actually walking over to the sofa; the next thing I knew I was sitting beside him. He was still talking to Nicole, but his hand was resting on the cushion beside his thigh, so I slipped my hand inside his, and he closed his over mine and squeezed it gently as if to reassure me that everything was going to be all right.
And I’m here to tell you that everything was “more” than all right…because the very next instant we were riding in his car. I have absolutely no idea what happened to Nicole, or how we got out of that room, but the next thing I remember is being in a car, Bobby is driving – hence my assumption that it was his car – and I was sitting up close beside him. I have no idea where we were going, but we were talking as if we had known each other forever. I felt comfortable with him…safe. Then Bobby started to talk about how hungry he was and how a double cheeseburger sure sounded good. He wanted to know if I was hungry and – honestly – I wasn’t because…well, I was with Bobby.
But then, he turned the car off the street and into the parking lot of a “Dairy Queen”…of all places. Suddenly, I found myself thinking that ice cream actually sounded pretty good, and I was sitting there trying to decide if I should get a “Peanut Buster Parfait” or a “plain old” vanilla cone, when Bobby turned to me and said, “What would you like?” And before I had the chance to tell him what I "really" wanted...as if on cue...the alarm went off.
Now, I am quite certain the vast majority of you found my chaste, little G-rated, piddly-assed dream to be extremely boring and completely unimpressive, but “sex dreams” have never been a part of my dream repertoire. Perhaps your Bobby dreams are of the crazy-wild-monkey-sex variety. If so...lucky you. Me, on the other hand, I dream of Bobby…and food. What can I say…welcome to my world.
Actually, the more I thought about it, I realized this might be a new "take" on an annual "Super Bowl" commercial. I’m sure you're familiar with it...the one where the quarterback of the winning team is running off the field, celebrating the victory and someone shouts out, “Hey, so and so, your team just won the Super Bowl. What are you going to do now?” And the player shouts back, “I’m going to Disney World!”
Well, instead of that, we’d have, “Hey, Detective Goren, you just escaped certain death at the hands of a depraved, maniacal, crazy-bitch serial killer. What are you going to do now?” And then Bobby would say, “I’m taking my girlfriend to DQ.”
Now that’s a commercial.
My "dream" Bobby.
