Oh honey, nobody dies! Not really!

Last night I dreamed that Greg and I sat courtside at a  Lakers game in the Staples Center. I don't remember why we were there or who gave us the tickets, but there we were. I was eating red vines and watching the pre-game action on the floor; the first quarter hadn't started yet. I remember standing up for the National Anthem and noticing that Greg still had most of his hair when he took off his hat. Sitting back down, I distinctly felt the sensation of my upper arm leaning against Greg's upper arm; in fact, I woke up with that feeling in my right arm, and I was sitting on his left in the dream. The weird thing is that I was sitting on the aisle, and he was sitting in the second seat, which would never have happened in real life.

The Lakers started pouring out onto the court- we were sitting in a corner where I could see down the tunnel and into a room where they were all coming from; Pau Gasol gave me a wave (I know he's not a Laker anymore) and I buried my face in Greg's shoulder in embarrassment. He smelled like Hugo Boss. I can't remember what we were talking about (not basketball, I think it was a playwright) but whatever it was caught the attention of a couple sitting in front of us, and Greg leaned forward to talk to them for awhile.

There was a pre-game show where this fat guy in a sports jacket was going around interviewing people, feeding them one-liners ahead of time and then taping his reaction on the big screen. He was up above our section, but motioned to me and came down beside me.

"Alright pretty, here's your line..." and he handed me a card which I read aloud (no cameras yet). "It wasn't until Robin Williams became my babysitter that I learned what a day off really meant." I looked up at him and said, "I dunno- this seems like kind of an off-color joke since Robin Williams is dead." He laughed loudly and said patronizingly, "Oh honey, nobody dies! Not really!" and I just stared at him until he huffed away to another section.

I turned back to Greg and said dramatically, "I've blown my opportunity to appear on the Jumbo-Tron!!!!" and he replied, "Good thing, since you're wearing a Clippers shirt at a Lakers game." I looked down at myself and I was awash in red and blue. Greg was wearing this Lakers Championship shirt from the 80's (maybe 1988?) that he had in real life and that featured cartoon Lakers with big caricature heads.

"Let me out and I'll go buy you a Lakers shirt to put over it," so I swung my legs over the side of the seat and he went out past me, up the aisle and cutting across a row of seats. He was moving fast and light, and looked so tall and so healthy, and I couldn't help shouting out, "Hey old man! You look pretty good for someone who used to be dead!" He turned around and gave me our secret thumbs up signal, then disappeared up the far aisle.

That was where I woke up. I don't know what the hell any of that meant, and the Robin Williams joke was nonsensical more than off-color. But those vivid dreams where Greg is alive and healthy and not a ghost (at least, not until the end) are few and far between these days, so I was grateful.

So was my right arm.