Mean Mr. Mustard!

Okay I've stopped trying to analyze this one but here's an interesting dream I had last night. Slightly traumatic.

Okay, Jay Leno and Conan O'Brien were eating lunch together and I was somehow sitting at a table near them and held some sort of respect in their eyes. (Bare with me here.) I was sort of in charge of keeping people's noses in their own business, telling them to move along if they stopped to talk. Weeeelllll, at some point, Matthew Perry comes and is standing next to me watching Jay and Conan with a smile. I stare up in wonder as this is the first time I've seen Chandler, my second television crush, (the first, JTT). And I grab his sleeve, (this I remember clearly, grabbing his sleeve that is), and he smiles at me, and I say hello. At this point, Jay and Conan disappear, or I abondon my station. It's not clear which. We have a plesant conversation and then next thing dream-me knows, I'm eating lunch at a table with him and his friends. But I'm no longer a fan. I'm one of them.

Okay so we are all talking and laughing and having a good time and I start squeezing in fan questions. All is going well until... dum, dum, dum...dream-me says, "How's Lauren?" (As in Lauren Graham.) He puts his head in his hands and growls. Everyone at the table glares at me and he stands abruptly and starts pacing. He's on a sidewalk going in and out of view and everyone is trying to coax him down. But he's furious. They're all like, "It's okay!", "She didn't mean it!" "Come back and eat your hotdog!"

Meanwhile, in my most, "you're being overdramatic" voice I yell, "Matttttthhhhhhhheeeewwwww!"

He ignores me.

"Matthew Perry I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

In my head, I'm wondering what happened with Lauren. I'm scared to ask.

Another friend approaches the table and asks what happens when a man, who I will refer to as Mean Mr. Mustard, (one of Matthew's friends), points to me and says, "Betsy asked him about Lauren." And then ripples of "Betsy asked him about Lauren" goes through the table, along with scowls of discontent and glares directed towards me. All of the sudden, Mean Mr. Mustard grabs an old-school yellow bottle of mustard and points it at me and starts squirting. It is hitting the side of my face and hair in spurts of embarrassment so my pleas increase, "Matthew!!!! Matthew Perry!!!!!" Dream-me is convinced he's going to come save me from Mean Mr. Mustard.

At this point, mustard is dripping from my chin and I'm pretty sure my yells have turned panicked. The mustard and my pleas for Matthew don't stop coming until I reach consciousness.

Seriously. That was my dream.