The Girl of My Dreams

Bloggified by Jake on Monday, October 5, 2009

I just blew through four podcasts of Jonathan Goldstein's "Wiretap," so I'm not really sure whether the inspiration for this post came from the latest episode or is a month old. In it, Jonathan interviewed Adam Pacitti of The Girl of My Dreams. Adam literally met a girl in a dream and concluded that since all the other people he remembered from his dreams were real people, this girl must be as well. He has set out to find the girl of his dreams, certain they are soul mates.

The story is a bit silly and it's hard not to imagine the whole thing is a joke, especially when you see that he lists his age as 20 "so it's definitely time to be settling down" or read his blog and get stories about his traveling to Amsterdam to meet a girl only to be stood up and find that two guys were "winding him up" as he puts it. Not to mention that the whole concept is a bit crazy. Our dreams are random and generally don't make sense, why would anyone conclude that a dream about a woman you've never met would contain information to guide the rest of your life?

Then it occurred to me that maybe his idea isn't that far-fetched afterall.

A dream state is the perfect place for your brain to organize. The reason dreams are so random is often because our brains are organizing thousands of random thoughts. However, sometimes those thoughts aren't so random. If, instead, his brain was organizing the "desirable traits in a mate" files, it's possible that he woke up with that laser-like focus on his perfect woman because his brain had just finished organizing everything he could want about a woman, from what she likes for breakfast to how large her breasts are to what music she listens to on her iPod to what color her hair is. This overwhelming concentration of details left him feeling he'd met an actual person and sent him on this crazy quest to prove she exists.

It occurred to me I might have a similar Girl of My Dreams that I've been seeking since I wrote about her in 1997. More interesting, it occurred to me I might have met her earlier this year.

Like dreams, stories often serve to organize thoughts and often they lead nowhere. For every story I've completed, I've started several more that I never bothered to conclude. That's not to say the story didn't serve its purpose. Sometimes the purpose of the story can be just to prove there isn't any need to tell a story about giant hedgehogs from outer space that devastate a South American fishing village before rolling into the jungle where they have to be hunted down by a paratrooper named Jack Flash (yes, he's a paratrooper only so he can be called "Jumpin' Jack Flash.") This, by the way, is an actual story I started to write in seventh grade and can still recall it today.

While at college in 1997, I devised a three-question test I would administer to any girl I was considering dating.

1. What's your favorite country song?
2. Where do you go to church?
3. What soap operas do you watch?

If she could answer any of those three questions, I didn't even bother.

But those questions only helped filter out what I didn't want, not define what I did want. For that, I didn't realize I'd have to look--until Adam helped me realize it--at Stacey Randinsky.

Randi, as she was originally called in conversations between the main character and his best friend, was the definition of everything I wanted in a girlfriend. Written in the dark era after my then-fiancée informed me it would be much more convenient if she just started fucking some of the guys who lived on campus with her instead of waiting for me to drive up to her school a couple nights a week, the story was about a professional wrestler who was considering one last chance to pursue that career after a couple bad experiences with shady promoters. Professional wrestling represented my feelings about my pending career in television news... and quite accurately I might add.

Stacey Randinsky embodied everything I wanted in a girlfriend/fiancée/wife. Her physical description, her emotional support of the main character, her wit, her education, her interest in literature, her voracious sexual appetite and disregard for getting caught having sex in public places, her taste in music, everything I wrote about Randi (even her name) was a pertinent detail in what I was seeking.

But where Adam thought he'd met a real person in his dream, I'd never considered that Stacey Randinsky might actually exist. I thought of her--on the rare occasions that I would think of her at all in the last ten years--just as a character I made up for a story that started strong but had no clear ending.

Now I accept that she just might exist. The question is whether a friend may have introduced me to her earlier this year, and if so, how do I tell her without sounding like a complete lunatic?

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