A couple nights ago I had a dream that I was watching Brokeback Mountain.  I’ve never actually seen Brokeback Mountain, so my subconscious had to make it up as it went along.  I have to tell you, when it comes to the art of filmmaking, my subconscious is an uneven talent.  I understand that the real Brokeback Mountain had some scenes that made some viewers uncomfortable.  I wouldn’t know anything about that.  The most memorable scene in the version I saw had the two cowboys drinking beer and making Jiffy Pop popcorn.  I’m sure I wouldn’t know anything about that either. 

Except that I do, because I just made some Jiffy Pop popcorn last Friday.  It was because we were out of microwave popcorn, and we just happened to have this Jiffy Pop that Elvis had gotten as a present from his teachers at school.  So I made the Jiffy Pop.  It was okay.  Microwave popcorn would have been better.

When I was a kid, they didn’t have microwave popcorn.  Well, I’m assuming that there was no microwave popcorn because most people I knew didn’t own microwaves.  And I remember what a big deal it was when my mother finally got an air-popper.  That was amazing.  We would totally gather around and watch the popcorn popping because that’s what you do when a technological marvel is occurring.  Anyway, before the air popper my mother would make popcorn on the stove.  Not Jiffy Pop, though, because that was too expensive.  No, she’d just make it in a pot.  We wouldn’t gather around and watch because, you know, there wasn’t really anything to see. 

I think my mother must have made popcorn every day and we’d all eat it while she watched The Doctors and Days of Our Lives.  I was never that into The Doctors, but Days of Our Lives had a really interesting storyline at that time, what with the Salem Strangler killing people and Jessica having that split personality (nun by day, shameless hussy by night), and then it turns out her boyfriend is the strangler and Sister Marie is her mom?  Holy crap, that was exciting.  I guess you had to be there.  Anyway, Another World came on after that, but usually by then the popcorn was gone.  My father didn’t like my mother to watch soap operas.  He thought they were a waste of time.  My mother would watch them anyway, but it was a secret, so we had to keep it on the downlow, as it were. 

There were never any gay cowboys on Days of Our Lives when I was watching it.  Things might be different now, just like the popcorn is different.  I would never watch soap operas with my children.  And yet that is one of my fond memories of childhood. 

I had another dream that I went to high school with Johnny Depp.  I had known Johnny Depp since the fourth grade.  We didn’t talk much, so we weren’t close, but in my dream we were in high school together, and one day during math class he tried to kill me.  I never understood why, but I got asked to tell the story over and over, and that’s when people started noticing some inconsistencies in the narrative.  It turned out that I’d just read Winona Ryder’s memoir of the event, because it had actually happened to her, not me.  Then it turned out that she made the whole thing up, and I felt pretty ripped off.  Kind of like Oprah, I imagine.

I didn’t go to high school with Johnny Depp, of course.  Johnny Depp and I aren’t even the same age.  I think 21 Jump Street may have been on when I was in high school.  Probably some episode of 21 Jump Street had some high school students trying to kill each other and lying about it, but I don’t remember much specific about 21 Jump Street, except when Johnny Depp and Peter DeLuise would go undercover as delinquent brothers.  I’m not sure why that made such a strong impression on me, unless I really dug the way Johnny Depp looked in a do-rag.  Really don’t know the answer there. 

I think I know where this dream came from, though.  I’ve been eating Frosted Mini-Wheats this week, and on the back of the cereal box there’s this movie offer, and one of the movies you can get is Lucas–you know, that movie Corey Haim made before he got old and desperate?  Winona Ryder was in that movie, too.  She was very young.  Johnny Depp was not in that movie.  But Johnny Depp dated Winona Ryder, as you know.  That’s how he got his “Wino Forever” tattoo.  There were no tattoos in my dream, though.  Just attempted murder and literary fraud.  It was more exciting than the gay cowboys eating Jiffy Pop, though.

There was something wrong with that Jiffy Pop. 

It’s Valentine’s Day, and I should have written something about love.  Instead I wrote about dreams of love and love gone wrong.  Also the popcorn going wrong.  I love popcorn, and I love this blog.  And I love you guys.  (Nothing funny, just being festive.  Grow up, for Pete’s sake.)