Man o' dreams

Art Basel (http://www.artbasel.com/) is in town right now. This is a ritzy sort of Art expo where people with a lot more money than myself go and buy £65000 chairs and million dollar paintings. It is a big celebrity puller and one of my students saw Brad Pitt there on Tuesday buying some heirlooms for the kiddies. I wouldn't normally name-drop celebrity sightings (probably because I never have any) but I feel compelled to mention this one because I ended up having a dream about him the following night in which he leapt out of an enormous "catermeran-car" ( just you wait until those babies take off!!) so he could run to me and say' hey babe'. The curious thing is I would never have actively chosen a 'hey babe" scenario involving Mr Pitt as topic of my dreams. Not that I have anything against the guy. I don't even know him. He strikes me as someone who would probably pass my mandatory ' real man' test though. EG:
1. Whom would carry whom out of a burning building?
I mean obviously I would have no problem running out myself or helping someone else out too but if a man draped himself across my shoulders and expected me to hoist him out I might feel a little underwhelmed.
2. Would he be prepared to give his last chicken drumstick to a starving cat (or a fat cat for that matter)?
I feel fairly confident he's the fire-rescuing type (great media oppurtunity!) and as for the cat well I can't imagine him in a last chicken drumstick situation anyway so it's probably a reundant question.

But I seem to be digressing....my real point is that I find it very interesting how often my dreams never feature the people I really care about or have secret crushes on.
Ok there are the odd exceptions:
My Barack-Obama-embrace-that-was-cordial-to-the-onlooker-while-highly-erotic-for-the-participants-dream.
Or perhaps my Clive-Owen-oooh-stepdad-dream. ( Less said about that the better!

But in general no one I fancy ever makes it to the cutting floor. I suppose it is my brain's way of protecting me from disappointment. Imagine dreaming that Slaven Bilic had selected me as assistant coach of Croatia only to wake up and find out it was all just a beautiful dream.

I guess I should just be thankful that my mind uses the likes of Brad Pitt to entertain me in a harmless way so I never suffer real disappointment.

Hooray for that I suppose.