Dream a Little Dream of Fran

I dreamed I was watching a stage performance of Hawaiian music, and the announcer was saying that Gloria Estefan would be singing. Several large, unattractive people preceded her to the stage, and I thought, hmm, maybe she wants to look better in comparison. She came out, sure enough, skinny and glamorous, in a white fur coat and sparkly strech pants with flared legs. For some reason, my view zoomed in on her tummy, which was poochy and old-lady-ish. I looked over at Fran Drescher, who was, of course, standing next to me. She was also wearing sparkly stretch pants and checking herself out in comparison to Gloria, and I said, "Don't worry, Fran, you look much better than she does." She said something to the effect that her body was one thing she could always count on being good.

Later, I was Buffy in a huge battle, had sex with Stephen Baldwin (gross!), had to shoo four hairless cats out of my hotel bathroom because I'd left the door open, and helped Camille (my psychotic ex-roommate) round up the rest of the wandering kitties. All this happened between 6:30 and 7:49 this morning. I think sometimes I stay in bed just for the dreams.