The Boss of My Dreams

Last night’s wild dream about trying to get my picture taken with Bruce Springsteen at a wedding in Italy definitely added a little excitement to an otherwise exhausting week, Modern Philosophers.

I have been telling you since this blog’s inception that I have incredibly vivid and entertaining dreams, and last night’s adventure only further proved that to be true.

I’ve had so much on my mind for the past three weeks, that my little sleepy time movies have been the only opportunity for my brain to let its hair down and have a little fun.

Unfortunately, it’s been mostly nightmares for me, so last night’s story about Bruce at some Italian nuptials was not only welcome, but it was also a major surprise.

It all started with my girlfriend and I taking our seats at the wedding reception.  Don’t ask me who got married because I have absolutely no idea.  The story was already in progress when I joined the fun, and I quickly had too much on my agenda to worry about the identity of the bride and groom.

Somehow, it was obvious that we were in Italy.

Maybe it was the fact that most everyone was speaking Italian.  Perhaps someone mentioned it in passing. Or I might have just looked out the window and seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa or the Pope going for a jog trailed by a phalanx of the Swiss Guard.

All you need to know, Modern Philosophers, is that I was in Italy, at a lavish wedding reception, with my significant other.

Shortly after taking my seat, I noticed that Bruce Springsteen was at the next table!

Who the hell do I know who gets married in Italy and also knows The Boss?

Who cares?  Dreams are like Michael Bay flicks…the plot and back story don’t really need to make any sense just as long as the action holds your attention.

Springsteen is one of my idols.  Thunder Road is one of my all-time favorite songs.  Even the gorgeous Irish woman seated next to me had to concede that Bruce was one of the most influential people in my life.

So to suddenly be only a few feet from him in a social setting was a dream (yes, the horrible pun is intended!) come true.

However, I was too nervous to just go over and speak to him.  Instead, I decided to be a slave to the Age of Social Media, and get a selfie of myself all dressed up at an Italian wedding with Bruce in the background.

You have to admit, that would make for an awesome profile pic!

For the life of me, I could not find the perfect angle at that short of a distance to get a shot that included both of us in focus.

Plus, I didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself and make one of my heroes think that he had a level five stalker on his hands.

So I asked my sweetheart to take the photo.  It being the twenty-first century, neither of us had an actual camera.  We were just trying to get this all done with our cell phones, so it’s not like we had an array of telephoto lenses at our disposal to take care of this inconspicuously from a distance.

I stupidly made a joke about Bruce being The Boss and my girlfriend being the boss of our relationship, and it didn’t go over well.  Therefore, her motivation to be the world’s best wedding photographer/paparazzi quickly diminished.

Without any warning, Bruce took to the stage with the wedding band to belt out a few classics for the newlyweds.

I assumed this would be the perfect opportunity to get my stalker…I mean…selfie out of the way.  But for some odd reason, every photo my significant other took either didn’t have me in focus, or didn’t contain Springsteen at all.

Finally, I gave the task of capturing this magic moment to my stepsister.

Why the hell was she at this wedding?  I haven’t seen her in like twenty-five years.  Whose wedding was this???

Finally, my beautiful date and I left the reception, and walked hand in hand down the quiet streets of Italy.

We talked about what our own wedding would be like and if we would be able to invite Bruce Springsteen.

As we neared out hotel, my companion squeezed my hand and whispered that she couldn’t wait to get me into bed.  Then she worried that we wouldn’t be able to fool around because we were sharing a room with my older sister.

Why was she at this wedding?  How come we were sharing a room with her?  Is she a heavy sleeper?

In the end, I serenaded my not from Jersey girl with a little Thunder Road and assured her that no matter who else was in the room, I was going to show her how much I loved her.

Not a bad dream for a guy who’s been walking around like a zombie all week, right?

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