Good morning, everybody.
I had written a short story which had a very brief passage in it mentioning Lady Gaga. I wanted to make sure Lady Gaga was okay with this passage -- even though I think I'd already published the story on a website or Smashwords or something.
Somehow I'd managed to get a hold of Lady Gaga on the phone. But even as we started talking, Lady Gaga appeared right next to me. Lady Gaga looked surprisingly normal. She had platinum blonde hair in a kind of round style, down to just below her shoulders. She wore black sunglasses, a black, leather jacket, a tank top, short, denim jeans, and maybe some black nylons.
We were sitting in a wide car seat, like the backseat of a car from the 1970s. But we weren't really in a car. We were in a room filled with stuff like colorful toys and stuffed animals, cluttered all around us. We were talking for a while, but I can't remember what we were talking about.
Then Lady Gaga asked me if I wanted to kiss her. I didn't feel like I was incredibly attracted to her. But she kind of had a hypnotic power over me. Plus, she was a big celebrity, and she was being so nice to me. I thought I'd better kiss her.
I slowly moved toward her. I think Lady Gaga's lips were bubblegum-pink. And up close, her cheeks looked a little chubby and cute. We kissed softly on the lips for a few seconds. It felt kind of magnetic. It felt really nice.
Then I was standing off of the car seat. It was like Lady Gaga was driving away, though I still don't think the car seat was in an actual car. Lady Gaga said, "Yeah, your story's fine. I have to go take care of some stuff now. Maybe I'll come back here when I'm done. Will you be available if I come around?"
I think I told her I'd be available. I think I looked around the toy-cluttered room and tried to figure out what the heck I was supposed to be doing here anyway.
I was laying out on a high school football field. It must have been late afternoon. The sun had gone down. The clouds all had a strange tinge of raspy, aluminum-pale orange. The air had the same kind of color. But I could see just behind the first layer of orange clouds was another layer of really dark grey-black clouds. I knew there was going to be a big thunderstorm.
I turned my head and told the football coach (?) that there was going to be a thunderstorm. I was kind of afraid to be laying out here like this. A huge tunnel opened up in the sky. The walls of the tunnel were made of orange clouds and grey-black clouds, interwoven. The tunnel seemed to work its way high up into the atmosphere, maybe even all the way into outer space. I may have seen large rocks floating through or falling through the tunnel.
I got really afraid of the impending thunderstorm. I stood up and walked to the edge of the field. At the edge of the field the grey-black clouds seemed to be a lot less potent. I figured I stood much less chance of being struck by lightning if I stood over here.
I was in the living room of a small apartment. The living room was bright white with daylight. I knelt before a couch, on which a little girl sat. Just to the right of the couch was the kitchen, in which the mom may have been working. There may have been one or two more kids in the apartment.
Now a little boy came running in through the front door of the apartment, off to my left. He ran all the way through the living room and into the hallway, saying, "Daddy's coming upstairs right now!"
The little girl on the couch got upset. She asked, "What do you mean he's coming home right now? He wasn't supposed to come home until later! That doesn't give us any time to prepare his surprise birthday party!"
The father came into the house. He was tall, pale, muscular, and attractive, with wavy, brown hair done in a square-swept, almost 1950s style. He wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans. He said hello as he walked in.
The mother called from the kitchen, saying that the family hadn't expected the father home so soon today. The mother hinted to the father, trying not to let on to the girl that she was hinting to the father (even though I think the girl knew), that the girl had planned on him coming home later so she could have a surprise party ready for him.
The father looked a little inconvenienced, knowing that he'd have to go back outside so everybody could put his party together. But he figured he'd do it, if it made the little girl happy. So he said, "Oh, you know, I forgot I have to go pick up this thing. It's gonna take me a while. But I'll be back in a bit."
As soon as the father got out the door, the little girl stood up. She said, "Okay. Now we really have to get working to make the surprise party." The little girl turned to me and said, "You help me make the hard-boiled eggs."
The little girl and I were now in the kitchen, which was different from the kitchen the mother had been in. This one wasn't open to the living room, and it ended directly in front of the front door to the apartment. The counter was all cluttered with all kinds of food. There was a television set at the right end of the counter. Some show was blaring away on it.
The little girl had been preparing some eggs for me. Apparently, making hard-boiled eggs was a two-step process. I was the second step, which was boiling the eggs. The little girl, who may now have been my sister, at her age in waking life, now left the kitchen. She was heading out with a few other people. I think everybody was going out to get items for the party.
I looked at the eggs my sister had left me with. I knew she had done something to prepare them so I could boil them. But, I thought, I had to get them into the pot as soon as possible. I picked up one of the eggs. It crumbled in my hands. It was like there hadn't even been anything inside the shell.
I looked down at the eggs. They were all on a plate, or maybe on an upside-down lid for a Tupperware container. One of the eggs looked cracked and buckled in all the way around. The cracks looked all rusty. I tried to pick up another one of the eggs. But when I did, it uncoiled, like it was a peeled potato/egg that had been re-spooled to look unpeeled, but then came all unwound as soon as I'd touched it.
I felt like maybe I'd waited too long to put the eggs in the pot. Or maybe I'd mishandled them all in some way. Whatever had happened, these eggs were no good. I'd have to prepare a new batch of eggs for boiling. I didn't think I knew how to do it. I'd have to ask my sister. But my sister wouldn't be back for a while. So I'd have to figure out for myself how to prepare the eggs.
It may have occurred to me that what I really needed to do was take raw eggs, boil them, and then run them under cold water. I may have gotten ready to do this.
But now I was distracted by the image on TV. It was some movie from the 1980s. A bunch of hot high school girls were all getting together for the night for a slumber party. They were all wearing skimpy lingerie and frolicking around in some girl's bedroom. I had my eyes glued to some girl laying on her stomach on the floor, cuddling with some big, soft pillow. She wore an almost see-through pink negligee. Her bottom was really turning me on.