Jorge Porge Pumpkin Pie

Warning: This dream contains one section that is of a graphic sexual nature. That's unusual for me, so I thought I should give you a heads up so you can decide for yourself if you want to continue. 

10/8/14

With my friend Lenore in tow, I walk into a restaurant on a busy stretch of highway outside of Philadelphia. Actually, I'm more in tow as I'm struggled to keep up with her on the walk over from my hotel a block or so away.

Once inside, we get separated almost immediately. I make my way to the dimly lit bar and take the empty seat next to George Clooney.

We make small talk. He seems pretty drunk. We decide to go back to my hotel room. I can't believe my luck.

In the parking lot, George gets into a one seat convertible and starts to pull away.

"There's no room for me in the car! Besides, we can walk."

We stumble into the hotel and down a corridor where George plops down on a bench as we wait for the elevator. We run into a bunch of my relatives who are also staying at the hotel. It's pretty clear I've brought a hook-up back to the hotel.

"Who's your friend?" my cousin Sheila asks.

The twinkle in her eye tells me she may have recognized him. But George does not want to be recognized, so I make up a name for him.

"This is...Jorge." Yes, that's right. His fake name is Spanish for George. I was not very quick on my feet.

Jorge tells me he's going to be sick. I drag him down the hall looking for a bathroom. We make it as far as the kitchen, where George Clooney doubles over and vomits in front of several kitchen employees. Apparently he was also very excited because there is now a sticky white substance all over his jacket and shirt. I take a glob of it and rub it into his chest hair.

I get him back to his feet. We get on an elevator and get off on the tenth floor. We pass a banquet hall where a Kyra Sedgewick tries to say hello. We keep going until we get to my door, room number 1003. I unlock the door, push it open, and watch as George stumbles on to the bed and passes out.

I crouch down, still outside the room, to pick up the newspaper and several pairs of shoes and flip flops. There are so many pairs, I have trouble getting them all in the room.

At last I get into the room, jump into the bed and become the big spoon to George Clooney's little spoon.