I never dream about Celebrities BUT last night was a pleasant exception. I dreamt about my living icon Simon Cowell (others include Nelson Mandela and Dolly Parton).
In my dream I was stood at the Bus Stop just off Stephen Street. It was raining heavily when a very smart looking Chauffeur driven Mercedes (with those flashy, blacked out windows only real money can buy) pulls over, stopping just at the side of me in the Bus lane.
As I squint to get a closer look, the back-seat's electronic window begins to slide down. At this point, my initial excitement of who the devil could be inside is replaced with an episode of The Wire. Well, we do live in London and shootings of innocent people with mistaken identities are on the up, according to the latest government figures, published in the Daily Mail.
Then ... to my astonishment (and the homeless-looking person standing next to me), GOD (Simon) pops his head out. Peering out at me, he smiles that Hollywood smile and utters the words I've longed to hear (ever since watching Sex In The City when Big picks up Carrie) from him, "Hey baby, want a ride?"
It was at this point I rudely awoken ... to the noise of those bloody Polish Scaffolders, erecting their poles outside my bedroom window. FYI. I'm getting the roof done.
I wonder, was this a dream or a premonition? I did see a Psychic recently who told me that I had 'the gift' and should learn to use it. Well, we shall see. I've been invited by my very good friend 'The Top Personal Assistant To A BIG Telly Cheese' to the X-Factor final !!!!!
I'm hoping to get an early night, in a bid to return to my dream-like state. I bet I forgot to press PAUSE!
Shall update you.
Lots of love, Doris x
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