The men of my dreams

When you write about celebrities as much as I do – and watch movies on high rotation when you’re sick – it’s hardly surprising that they infiltrate your dreams.

Last night I was spraying sunscreen onto George Clooney’s neck. George – ever the prankster – decided to engage in a little rough housing and we tumbled to the floor. There I was entangled and laughing with one of the sexiest men alive when I bloody woke up.


I expect he surfaced in my subconscious because I watched “Up In The Air” last week.




Given my well-documented affection for David Duchovny, it’s hardly surprising that I’ve had a few sexy encounters with him during my REM phases.

But I’ve never really understood why Jake Gyllenhaal keeps popping up. I mean, he’s hot, but he’s never really been on my radar.




And none of those men feature in my day dreams … they’re reserved for someone who’s been a real-life “Up In The Air” type lately. Sigh.

Dreams are funny things. Hearing about other people’s nocturnal adventures can be about as exciting as watching paint dry, but I find the mechanics behind them totally fascinating.

Don’t you think it’s incredible that your brain can create whole new landscapes, people, plots and dialogues in your dreams?

I reckon Hollywood will be MADE when someone finally works out how to record dreams.

Researchers are getting tantalisingly close.

Japanese scientists recently embarked on a study where they measuring brain activity while people are sleeping. They hooked them up to an electroencephalography (EEG) machine, then used the readings to determine when the participants began to enter the dreaming phase of sleep.

Then they abruptly woke them up and asked what they were dreaming about, repeating the process about 200 times for each participant.

I wonder how much the human guinea pigs got paid for THAT? Sounds like a nightmare to me.

The scientists then condensed the data and found that certain common types of objects from the dreams of the participants could be connected with brain patterns that were recorded by the scans.

Then they looked for images that roughly matched the objects that were seen in the dreams of the participants, assembling videos from images they found on the Internet to create a crude movie for each dream.

Close, but no cigar. I’m waiting for when they can record your actual dreams.

In the meantime, I’m pleased to have finally enjoyed some actual sleep.

Things have been pretty feverish this week, but last night I got a solid seven hours.

I woke this morning not feeling quite so bludgeoned. I wouldn’t say I was better, the snot is still flowing, but I see a light at the end of the sickly tunnel.

Sadly, I don’t think I’m well enough to join the kids in the surf at the beach today.

It’s such gorgeous weather, I’ve decided a final visit between the flags for the season is in order.

I’m sure all that fresh air will do me the world of good.

Have you ever dreamed about shagging a celebrity? Who was it? 

Song of the day: Eurythmics “Sweet dreams”




2 thoughts on “The men of my dreams

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