Yesterday morning, I was washing kitchen counters a little after 6:20am, and my husband had just got up. So I decided to tell him something important.
"Oh, by the way, I'm mad at you," I said haughtily.
"Mad at me? Why?'
"Because last night I had a dream that you told me you were bored with me and wanted someone else."
"Oh, well, it was your dream. I didn't do anything. Can't be mad at me."
"Not so fast, Bucko!" I said, waving my dirty kitchen rag at him. "When I asked you in my dream who you'd rather have, you said Julia Roberts!"
He seemed really bemused by the suggestion, I'll give him that. Maybe he doesn't go for the older ladies. But I wasn't about to dismiss the idea that I had subconsiously noticed a misty look of admiration in his eye while watching one of her movies.
"Yeah, Julia Roberts! And I'm mad at you for it!"
"You can't be mad at me. It's not my subconscious trying to tell me something."
"Well, why don't you ever have dreams about me running off with Jose Con-ser-co or something?"
"Do you mean Jose Canseco?"
"I don't know who it is-I just know the name!" I retorted. "So, uh...who is he anyway?"
"A baseball player who claimed he didn't use performance-enhancing drugs, and got in trouble because he actually did use them. So then he decided to rat out a bunch of other players, too."
Well, well...seems I like the bad boys. And the rats.
"Okay, but why don't you have any dreams about me running off with somebody else?"
"Because I'm not the jealous kind," he said with the signature Ibarra mega-watt smile.
That made me want to stick out my tongue at him while wiggling my fingers beside my ears. But he's right. I'm the jealous one. I take after my dad.
Dad told me he once had a dream where Mama drove to some other man's house and began fixing the guy breakfast-potatoes and eggs no less! He woke up mad at her, too. And then there's the power of suggestion, because I once had a dream that Matthew drove to another woman's house to eat her food. And that is just not right. You eat the food that's cooked at home and given to you! And you don't complain about being bored.
Oh, I've had lots of dreams about Matthew giving me the cold shoulder for another woman. One time he took up with a big-bottomed gal (and I'm serious: in my dream this woman had a very ample fanny), and he was very snarky about it, too. I was devastated. I kept following the two of them around, thinking, What does she have that I don't have?
But back to the Julia Roberts dream (or premonition?), Matthew called me after his lunch break yesterday. I asked him if he had had a good lunch, and he said, "It was fine, but guess who was sitting two tables away from us?"
He had me going, because I'm never one to discount dreams. And, really, how unlikely is it that Julia Roberts would be in an Olive Garden somewhere in Arizona? She just lives right next door in New Mexico, I've heard, and everybody knows those movie stars just flit around the country whenever they like.
"Julia Roberts!" I said in the way Jerry Seinfeld used to say, "Newman!" on Seinfeld-through gritted teeth and with fists clenched.
But Matthew just started to laugh, and I landed in reality.
"Haha, very funny," I said. "But if she ever does come around, Buckshot, I'm ready for her."