A couple months back, I dreamed I went to my high school prom. This was rather amazing because I never attended any school dance in my life. The one year I actually had a girlfriend, it turned out that she did not go to dances for religion reasons. She said I could go with someone else if I wanted to. But she said it in that “girlfriend voice” that hinted, “Sure, you can go with someone else but don’t even think of giving me a call afterward if you do.” I opted not to go.
So imagine my surprise to find myself dreaming about being at the prom. The gymnasium was decorated and beautiful. The lights were low. The disco ball was turning. Everyone was there in their finest 1970s fashions. The band played all the required dance tunes of the decade: “Stairway To Heaven” and “Freebird” and “Show Me The Way” and “Sweet Talkin’ Woman.”
I was having a really amazing time. My date was having a fun time. We laughed. We joked. We slow danced. We discoed. We sat at the table and chatted and laughed. We drank punch. It was really a LOT of fun. And I remember thinking that I was really dumb back then. I SHOULD have gone to the prom.
Then they announced the winners for Homecoming Queen and King. And as we all stood and applauded, and as the happy couple took the stage (she in her stunning pink dress and he with his blonde shoulder length locks) I suddenly realized in petrified horror: “Damn, I’m not at my high school prom. I’m in CARRIE!”
Without looking back, I grabbed my date’s hand and led her straight out the nearest exit door. The first screams of horror were just starting to sound as the doors swung shut behind us.
And then I woke myself up.
Can’t wait for the remake in October!