I dreamt that three of my co-workers were John Malkovich.
Which just proves that dreams are stupid.
One was thinner, one was dark-haired, but all three were Malkovich. I had a crush on one (the non-thin, non-dark one). He was in management. Then we slipped into an elevator together and hugged and held each other. It was a secret—office affair and all—but then we were in a meeting, and I was seated in a chair and he was perched on the table next to me and he put his arm around me, natural as can be, so I thought, “Guess it’s not a secret anymore” and leaned into him.
I love how hugging and holding feel in dreams; so real, so satisfying, so encompassing. And I love how smoothly things flow; from crush to affair to public relationship.
It wasn’t completely random; just before bed I was looking at movie listings and saw that Ripley’s Game is going to be on. Still, I find the banality terribly funny; I dream about Malkovich and it’s hugging at a management meeting.
