Last night I dreamt I was on a date with a jerk named Mike Goldstein. He picked me and my dog, Butters, up and went back to his place to drop Butters off and have a glass of wine before attending a party together. The glass of wine was the high point; he didn’t open my doors and he picked his nose, kept trying to touch my leg, talked about himself the entire time, didn’t ask me any questions, wore Sketchers and drank excessively without offering me any juice. Also, the party was in a middle school gymnasium! I must have picked him up on Jdate or something and failed to conduct a google background check. He agreed to take me out, so he obviously didn’t conduct one on me. Maybe google doesn’t exist in dreams?
Anyway, I cut things short and we went back to his place to pick up my dog. He left me in the car to pout while he went inside to get Butters before taking me home. Anxious to glue my ass to the couch and break open a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, I went in after Mike when a half hour went by and he still hadn’t returned.
I walked up Mike’s staircase and entered the living room, where he was bound and gagged with duck tape on the floor. Butters started whining, which alerted the robber, who was munching on a ham sandwich in the kitchen.
The robber charged me, trapped me in a corner and put a gun to my head.
“Hurting me isn’t necessary. I’m on your side. I wanted to do the exact same thing to Mike all night long. What’s your name? I’m Vanessa.”
“Joey.” I shook his leather gloved hand and thought of OJ Simpson. I looked down at Joey’s shoes: Bruno Magli. I’m pretty that in Vanessa’s Dreamworld, that meant he killed Nicole or something.
“I guess I won’t gag you or tie you up…. But I’m going to have to hold you hostage.”
“That’s cool. Do you mind if I use Mike’s computer while we wait?”
I didn’t want for him to respond.
“Ohh Goody!” I booted up Mike’s computer while he continued to struggle like a live insect pinned to a Riker Mount waiting to be dissected. “Come here… we can look at Pretty Wicked ads while we wait!!”
The armed robber/assholeknapper and I spent the next hour or so trolling the Internet for Pretty Wicked ads. I made him watch videos, view photos and write nice comments on the Oxygen site. I woke from the dream with a smile and sense of contentment.
I joke about having NPD, Narcisstic Personality Disorder, but am disturbed to think I may need to seek actual help; my subconscious is more concerned with reality show advertisements than the well-being of a hostage.
DSM criteria for NPD and how it relates to me
A pervasive pattern of grandiosity, need for admiration and lack of empathy present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by 5 (or more) of the following:
Black denotes behaviors I do not display.
Day Old Mustard denotes behaviors I may or not display. These are debatable and TBD.
Red denotes behaviors I display.
Has grandiose sense of self-importance
Probably, but I’m unable to accurately answer this if I do suffer from NPD, since I would view any level of self-importance, even “grandiose,” as reality. Since “Mike” would objectively “check this box,” I will too. One point red.
Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty or ideal love
Mixed. Quite the opposite in some respects. Specifically, I feel very powerless and stupid for becoming a reality TV asshole. Maybe a little preoccupied with beauty and ideal love; however, I spent the last 3 days un-showered and glued to the couch… which isn’t very attractive. This one is debatable. I’ll leave it day old mustard.
Believes that he or she is “special.”
If by “special” they really mean the State should revoke my license and make me ride the short bus, then yes. Seriously though, I am ashamed to say I do feel a little special when I see the ads. Conversely, Dan Cherry’s newspaper article left me researching “Internet Cyberspace Bullying.” If dreams are reflections of our subconscious, my subconscious would say A LOT special. *CRINGE*… So two points day old mustard.
Requires excessive admiration
I haven’t required anything resembling admiration or even human contact since I locked myself in my parents’ basement and started spending my days making fun of other people who live in their mother’s utility closet. At least I have a bed. Thank god mom and dad served me with a 24 hour eviction notice yesterday. Back to the city I go… One point black.
Has a sense of entitlement
Check. Check and check. Two points red.
Is Interpersonally exploitative
Not lately. If it’s just me, the couch and Butters, I can’t exploit anyone. Black.
Lacks empathy
I’m full of empathy… but for celebrities, so I’m not sure if that counts.
Is often envious of others or believes others are envious of him or her
I think everyone loves me and the people who say they don’t really just want to be me. Joking! Seriously, if people could experience an iota of the frustration, humiliation and stress I have over the last month, envy would be their last emotion. On the other hand, who wouldn’t want to super cute google ad of themselves? Nonetheless, I’m wearing a sash that says “So Fake” in the ads, and since I’m pretty sure no one is donning one of those voluntarily, another point for black.
Shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes
Although I’m usually joking, I do display these behaviors… especially when I poke fun at the idiocy of the haters and search for myself online while someone is hog tied in front of me. Red.
After waking with a smile from a vivid dream involving Pretty Wicked ads and armed robbery, I fear I’m one step closer to an actual, full-blown disorder. 3 points black, 3 points day old mustard and 3 points red. In all probability, I exhibit at least 1 of the 3 debatable behaviors without realizing it, so I’m teetering right on the edge of needing to upgrade Couple’s Therapy to Psychotherapy.
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