your wildest dreams.

I have to get this out of my head before I forget. I just woke up from a dream that makes absolutely no sense (do they ever?).

I dreamed my buddy Brit and I were going to a baseball game in Texas to see the Rangers play. I have vivid recollection of certain aspects of the stadium. The most notable thing: it was located inside an amusement park. The amusement park had a French Revolution theme. You heard me.

A baseball stadium. Inside an amusement park. With a French Revolution Theme. In Texas.

So we go to the game and I vividly recall our seats were in section 801. This was the lower level and had a rather opulent concourse. We walked to our seats, but then I go up to look around and ended up watching a portion of the game perched from a TV camera box. Why? Well, good question. I climbed in there just to see what it was like. And then I struggled to get out.

After the half-inning was over I left Brit stranded in his seat to take a walk around. Next thing I know I’m outside the stadium and I’m far enough away that I’m winding back through the amusement park. I’m walking against a large phalanx of park employees, all dressed in white, French Revolution garb (complete with the powdered wigs), some carrying drums and other instruments. I feel like a salmon swimming upstream…of the weirdest river ever!!

But in the dream, I recall this is part of the daily routine. Twice a day, all the employees perform a march around the amusement park while (wait for it) performing Moody Blues songs.

What?

You heard me. Moody Blues songs. I’m not sure if it was Nights in White Satin or Tuesday Afternoon or what, but it was Moody Blues songs. At an amusement park. With a French Revolution theme. In Texas.

It’s all making perfect sense, right?

Anyway, I fight my way past this crowd and finally make my way back into the stadium so I could catch up with Brit. After meandering through an in-stadium pub/sports bar, I find an elevator and take it to the top level. The concourse up here is different than the lower level. And there’s food up here too! Along the way, I spot a fellow I know. He’s an actor who’s had a bit part on NBC’s The Office. How do I know him? (You’ll like this) I, too, am an actor with a bit part on NBC’s The Office.

I don’t recall his name, but I get his attention. He recognizes me but says, “where do I know you from?” “The Office,” I replied. “Oh, you’ve seen me on the show?” he said. “No,” I replied. “I’m on that show too!”

“What’s your name?”

“Kevin.”

He looks puzzled, thinking I’m telling him that I portray Kevin on The Office. “No,” I said. “I’m not Kevin on the show (doing my best Kevin from the Office impression). That’s my actual name. I’m one of Jim’s friends on the show.”

Within the dream, he and I continue walking along the concourse and I’m feeling like a million bucks because…hey, we’re actors! On the hit show The Office!

I find my way back down to the main concourse, but not before hitting a buffet line (maybe I am Kevin from the Office!). But before long, whom do I spot? Why, it’s Jenna Fischer from The Office! She sees me and immediately recognizes me, so we stop to chat a bit. Somehow we get on the topic of our actual names. And I can’t remember her real name, so I keep calling her “Pam.” “I get that a lot,” she said. “Oh, so do I,” I arrogantly reply (what a jackass!).

“You know who I’m here with, don’t you?” She said, pointing over her shoulder. Walking toward her with a plate in hand, it’s John Krasinski. But, of course, I shout out, “It’s Jim Halpert!” Because that’s what actors do, right? They live their lives in character, don’t they?

At this point, I stop wondering about Brit because I’ve left him in the wind so I can hang out with my TV show friends because, you know, we all work together on the same hit TV show but don’t call one another by our real names.

And it all happened at a baseball stadium. In an amusement park. With a French Revolution theme. In Texas.

If you can figure any of that out, you’re better than me.

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Filed under dream journal, moody blues, Personal, television

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