Freaky, Perhaps Unwanted Glimpses Into My Subconscious

Last night's dreams:

I was young. I was a babe! I was going to school, not at the Jesuit University that is my actual alma mater, but another one, in Big City. Fair enough.

I was on what could only be called a date with a priest who was known, in my undergraduate days, as being a great Lover of Women from Afar. He loved us. He pined after us. He listened enthusiastically to us tell of our relationships (in too much detail). (He eventually... had some troubles.) And, frankly, he was a babe. 6 foot four, beautiful bass voice, gentle giant. He was the subject of many a young Catholic coed's crush.

So, Fr. R. and I were on a date. And I took him, naturally, to a country club near where I grew up. Now, this place was very exclusive. My family did not belong. But friends of the family did, so we went as their guests. It was beautiful and elegant in an old moneyed sort of way. I remember lingering in the powder rooms, because they were just so damned beautiful... painted flowers in the porcelain sinks. And Fr. R. and I decided to take a swim. All very... racy, from a 19-year-old's Good Girl's point of view.

I dove into the water, and found myself beneath a tangle of bodies, and being held down forcibly. I couldn't breathe, but I didn't panic... just pushed and pushed until, at last, I was able to get my head above water again. I decided to get out of the pool.

I showered, and while waiting for my date, whom should I run into but Heath Ledger! Looking well and fit but sad. (Not at all like he looked in The Dark Knight, which I saw this week with Larry-O and Petra). I decided to try to cheer him up.

My name is Magdalene Smith, says I. You might know my brother-- he's an actor as well. Larry-O Smith? Heath nods eagerly, Yeah, I know him, he's really good!

Larry-O, my brother.

Fr. R., my date.

And hanging by the pool with poor dead Heath.

Time for vacation?