I had a sexy dream about Marc Maron last night

I’m constantly grappling with feeling likable on stage, yet I also love that the stage is a place where I can be totally honest. It’s always a challenge for me to find where the boundaries of the two meet. Will I ever learn? Who knows. But why not join me in another attempt, as I do consider this blog to be an extension of the stage.

Today’s blog entry is about a real life and somewhat embarrassing dream I had last night.

We’ve all had them. Sexy dreams about people that we didn’t, perhaps, ‘mean’ to have them about. People who disgust us, our bosses, the kid in school who picked his nose, what have you. I’ve had sexy dreams about people I definitely meant to have them about, like Owen Wilson. That was one of my favorite dreams, ever.

Last night, I had a sexy dream about Marc Maron. I mean, it wasn’t that sexy or else I probably wouldn’t be writing about it. I’d be keeping my big mouth shut about it. It was actually rather G rated. There wasn’t even any heavy breathing. I really don’t know why I had a sexy dream about Marc Maron. I rarely ever think about Marc Maron, and I certainly never had a ‘thing’ for him, no offense, Marc, if you ever read this, though I’m sure the feeling is mutual. I forgot I even had the dream at all until today I saw a post of his on my Facebook wall. Then whammo, it all came flooding back to me, like a tidal wave with Marc Maron’s face on it - you know, glasses and such.

In the dream, Marc and I reconnected after not seeing each other for a few years. We spent the afternoon together, lying around and talking and laughing, and at the end of it all, we kissed. The next day (in my dream) I listened to his podcast and he talked about how he’d met a really nice girl that he knew from years ago and that something had clicked between us and that he was feeling really good about it.

Are you bored of reading about my dream yet? I am already bored of writing about it. Not to say that Marc isn’t a handsome, kiss worthy fellow, but who enjoys reading about people’s dreams? Sleep experts, maybe, but they probably don’t actually enjoy it, either. Ever ask someone how a movie was and they recount the entire plot to you, including character’s names? That’s what hearing about dreams is like for me. ‘Don’t ruin the ending,’ I always say to people who insist on telling me their dreams. I hope they never invent a dream recording device, because a lot of dreams are going to go straight to DVD.

I used to know Marc years ago. I was dating a comedian named Kurt Metzger and he and Marc became friends, and Marc’s ex and I were friends. It also turned out Marc and Kurt and I were neighbors. One year, we had Easter dinner together. Marc talked to Kurt and I about his background in comedy, and at the time he was kinda bummed because he was feeling discouraged. Kurt and I were a bit dumbfounded because to us, Marc was pretty famous. I mean, as we were leaving, he gave us a copy of his book. At the time, not just anyone and everyone had a book. It was a much rarer thing.

Now, it seems that Marc is doing even better than I suppose he was doing then.

But why would I have a dream about kissing Marc Maron? Why now? Why Marc? I think I realized that the dream was a metaphor for my own challenges, and somewhere, my brain dug up the memory of that old conversation with Marc. Dumb old brain, hoarding dumb old conversations.

I think the dream was my mind’s way of telling me to hang in there, “like Marc” and that good things are still to come. The thing that’s funny to me is that, a lot of the people he mentioned as having “made it” during that conversation are way outdated now, and not doing much of anything. I just love how people go up and then they go down. Even celebrity status can’t escape gravity. Remembering that will always and forever keep me humble. I wish it did, everyone.

Things are not going badly for me now. I’m prepping for my UK tour this summer and I’m always performing and keeping busy. Googling myself makes me smile - though I know it’s slightly icky, I also know we all do it. But I do look around at my peers and see some of them doing big things. People I started out with. And I wonder, “Why not me?” Why don’t I have those things that I want? I admit, I do wonder sometimes, though deep down I also have answers. I made some bad choices, I am not always genius level funny, I am scatterbrained and there’s also a few je nais cest qua reasons. I know that meanwhile, others look at me and wonder why they aren’t where I am. Sometimes people say directly to me, “I am so jealous! Why you and not me?” I secretly simultaneously hate and appreciate this. I laugh on the outside and cry on the inside. “If only you knew the dark ass places life has taken me. Appreciate having nothing, you shit!” I think to myself.

I am sure I’m not alone in asking myself, “Why not me?”. Maybe even Marc still wonders it from time to time. I’ll guess next time I see him in one of my dreams, I’ll ask him.

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