David
Hasselhoff on Ice
You
know I’m used to people trying to analyze my dreams
but I defy anyone to make sense of this one. Ever since
I was a young child I have had a series of therapists try
and dissect my dreams and most simply just gave up and passed
me off as a whack job. I’ve spent most of my life ignoring
the messages in my dreams but this one simply will not go
away. I know that dreams are our way of subconsciously dealing
with our daily lives, but please tell me what possible meaning
could an ice dancing David Hasselhoff have?
Here
is the dream: I am in Germany (of course. What other country
in the world would let David Hasselhoff have his own version
of Ice Capades?) And I am wearing a blue sequined dress
with very large rhinestone earrings. (Apparently this is
considered to be the height of fashion in my Germany.) My
hair is done up in what my mother used to call ‘the
peacock’ because it was sprayed to within an inch of
its life and the sides stuck out just like a peacock, and
I am wearing very garish iridescent blue makeup. I was preening
myself in the mirror like I was getting ready to enter a
beauty contest and I was thinking to myself ‘This
is the prettiest I have ever looked; I know he’ll notice
me.’ I was suddenly transported to a packed arena,
and when I say packed I mean packed. I was standing at the
back of the arena waiting for the show to begin when I noticed
that every single woman in the audience was dressed and
tressed exactly like me. I was so up set and angry that
I ripped my rhinestone earrings out and threw them at the
stage.
How
could this happen? I had spent so much time preparing for
the most important night of my life and now David Hasselhoff
would never notice me because I would be just another face
in the crowd. I would never achieve the heights of success
that I had planned for myself because David would be too
busy looking at all the clones of me. I was so hurt and
angry that I took a pair of scissors and began to chop off
my hair and as I was doing so David Hasselhoff took to the
ice. He began his program with a tribute to Polka and got
the crowd standing on its feet with, I think, his version
of The Chicken Dance. I can’t explain this but I was
so caught up in what he was doing that I was weeping. Can
you imagine that? Weeping at the sight of David Hasselhoff
doing an artistic impression of the Chicken Dance on ice.
When
I woke up I was completely dazed; I had no idea where I
was or what I was supposed to be doing, all I knew was that
I felt like an idiot. What the hell does David Hasselhoff
have to do with my life and why on earth would I think that
looking like a six foot tall version of Tammy Faye Bakker
would be a good thing? I am used to having vivid dreams,
nightmares so real that my bed is soaking with my sweat
and sex dreams so vivid that I’m totally frustrated
when I wake up and find that Colin Farrell isn’t really
beside me after all, but this one takes the cake. I have
never been a fan of David Hasselhoff; I would never put
all my hopes on having him notice me and I certainly wouldn’t
pay good money to watch him prance about on the ice like
a gypsy on fire. The worst part though is that I can’t
stop thinking about it or trying to dissect it. I have never
had a dream stump like this one and it is driving me mad.
So if there are any therapists out there willing to give
it a shot please contact me, I’ll be the one humming
polka songs and doing the Chicken Dance before my medication
kicks in.
he