February 11, 2006

I dream of... Connie Chung?

“I had a dream that Connie Chung is doing a newscast about my death and they show a clip from Soap.” - Billy Crystal
“Walter [Cronkite] sang me a little sea chantey. The verse ended, 'Just watch your back with Dan [Rather], dear, just watch your back with Dan.” - Connie Chung

So the other night, I had a dream about Connie Chung.

You likely have your own theories about this, but please realize that I am uncomfortable with the fact that sneaky (that's not a racial slur) Connie Chung somehow slipped, unfiltered, into my subconscious - and she wasn't just passing through. She was, like, the whole POINT of this dream. Here's how it happened:

I got in bed, and promptly fell asleep, somewhere near 2 in the morning. All was well with the world. I had some standard dream about flying or sex or grocery shopping, probably, until about 4:30, at which point my eyes just opened. I was wide awake. And I couldn't get back to sleep. At first this was just inconvenient, and I tossed and turned a bit, but by 4:45, it had become a full-blown panic attack.

I lay there, heart pounding, mind racing, eyes as big as saucers, trying to talk myself through the unnamed terror that was rising in me. As you know, I am a bit of a control freak and have moments of hypochondria, as well, so for me, this was pretty much the worst feeling ever. Worse than throwing up, even. I was sure I was going to have a heart attack or an aneurism or just spontaneously bleed out right then and there like in a scene from "Outbreak". It was terrible, and this lasted easily 45 minutes.

Finaly, sometime around 5:30, I got a little bit of a grip, got out of bed, and did the following: washed my face, drank a glass of chocolate milk and peered into the freezer. I don't know why I did that last part, but after standing there blinking at the ice cubes and the frozen green beans for 3 or 4 minutes, it gave me hypothermia, I'm pretty sure. In an effort to save myself from inevitable death by freezer, I raced back into my bed, where I must have succumbed to shock and lost consciousness, because I proceeded to dream the following...

::It's morning. I'm in a suit and what my great grandmother would have called "clicky heels". I click down the hall of the building I work in to the door of my office. I open it flip on the light. Sitting there, in my guest chair, is none other than Connie Chung.::

Liz: "Oh! Good morning! Can I help you?"

::Just then, thirty or fourty small children begin pouring into my office. They sit on the floor, press up against Connie and I, climb onto the desk, and generally mill around, wreaking havoc. They do not, however, make a sound. This isn't so much scary as it is totally overwhelming, given that Connie Chung has just dropped by my office and I have no idea who these snot-noses belong to::

CC: "Yes, I'm here to do a story on [insert one of my client's names], and I thought I could start by interviewing the children."

Liz: ::looking around at all the pint-sized potential interviewees, realizing I'd have to prep each one for interview:: "Of course! Let me just..."

:: at this point, I herd the zombie-kids out of my office and into a waiting room so as to reclaim control of the situation, and then return to the office to introduce myself, engage in formalities, etc. with Connie Chung::

Liz: "There. Hi... I'm Liz. It's a pleasure to meet you."

::sticks out hand for handshake, CC does the same, and we... well... shake hands. This is where it gets weird. As I'm shaking Connie Chung's hand, I realize that she has the softest hands I've ever felt. The sensation of her hand against mine was not quite sexual, but it felt very, very good. Warm, and literally the softest thing ever. It was like I was some drugged-out club kid, or something, and she was a strobe light or a feather or whatever the analogy should be to make sense. I was completely enthralled by her hands is the point. Overcome, even. Which led me to blurt out the following hideously embarrasing thing::

Liz: "You have got the most amazing, soft, BEAUTIFUL hands!!!"

::awkward pause::

CC: "Oh! Well, thank... you?"

Liz: ::realizing I just told Connie effing Chung she has "amazing, soft, beautiful hands" like a moron, and recognizing that I'd better cover for my own weird outburst, and QUICK:: "I mean, it's REALLY hard to find time to take CARE of your hands, being so BUSY, I imagine...." ::lamely trail off::

And then I woke up.
So apparently I now have anxiety attacks (this is new) and I am secretly obsessed with Connie Chung. (Also new). Don't tell Maury Povich.


auntiegrav said...

Connie Chung........yeah, she had soft hands in my dream, too.

Thanks for the link, I like your friend's story, too. Small world. If the cops were steroid junkies and pumped up and aggressive, who would know?

emynd said...

"Finaly, sometime around 5:30, I got a little bit of a grip, got out of bed, and did the following: washed my face, drank a glass of chocolate milk and peered into the freezer."

I thought that "peered into the freezer" said "peed into the freezer."