In my dream, it’s like I’m really there. It’s so real I can touch the grass. It’s so vivid I can taste the rain on my lips. It’s so lucid that I swear I can still smell her perfume when I wake up from my slumber. But when I awaken I realize much to my disappointment, that it is only a dream. If I could only sleep twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, I’d be able to spend more time with her… My sweet, sweet Oprah.
I had my first Oprah dream about a month ago. I dreamt that we met in a park. It must have been springtime because it was mild and there were hundreds of yellow and white tulips in bloom. She looked beautiful. She was dressed in a bright paisley printed sundress and she was twirling a pink-laced parasol. A formal polo races derby pink fashion couture hat covered her head. She was standing under the shade of a cherry tree, waving her white-gloved hand. Our eyes met and I realized she was signaling for me to join her. As I approached her, I noticed she had set up a most beautiful picnic lunch for the two of us to share. Spread out on the grass was a red and white-checkered tablecloth. Resting on the tablecloth was a hand woven, blonde willow basket lined with red and white gingham. She asked me if I would like to join her for lunch and I humbly accepted her invitation. I told her she looked absolutely stunning and she blushed, letting out a faint giggle. I sat down on the tablecloth across from her and she began to serve lunch. “Do you like liverwurst and cheese sandwiches?” she asked. “Are you shitting me?” I replied. “I freakin’ love liverwurst and cheese sandwiches.” I could hardly contain my excitement. Then she told me, “There’s nothing better than a liverwurst sandwich.” “With cool ranch Doritos CRUSHED ON TOP!” We both said in unison. “It’s one of my favorite things.” She said with a sly wink. We laughed uncontrollably and ate liverwurst for hours. We drank Diet Dr. Pepper out of the can and talked about Michelle Obama, our constant battles with weight gain and how Harper Lee's masterpiece, To Kill a Mockingbird, changed our lives. It was a delightful afternoon and I was smitten by her charm. All I could think about was how I wanted the afternoon to last forever. Then she looked at me and said, “I am a huge fan of your Out-Numbered blog.” I couldn’t believe she read Out-Numbered. It was inconceivable to me. “How did you ever hear about my blog?” I asked. “Dr. Phil turned me on to it. He found it on Facebook and told me that I would love it and guess what? I DO!” I sat there with my jaw wide open. Could this be my big break? She continued, “Listen to me Jason. Listen to me. It just so happens that Dr. Oz is taking maternity leave and I would love to have you stand in for him.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “What do I have to do?” I inquired. She continued, “I want Out-Numbered to be a weekly segment on the show and I want it to be featured in O, the Oprah Magazine.” “Really? Are you fucking with me Oprah?” I asked. “Would I play a player?” She offered a high five. Then she looked right at me and told me, “There’s one thing that you would have to do before I can make it official.” She looked me in the eye, “Would you mind a bit of constructive criticism?” “Anything.” I told her. She paused and put her hand on my knee. “Don’t ever wear feety pajamas to a lunch with Oprah, you stupid jackass!” Then I realized that I had been wearing a pair of blue fleece feety pajamas the entire time. I tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come out. It started to downpour. Then I looked up and noticed Dr. Phil, Suze Orman and Dr. Oz were all laughing at me and chanting, “Jason’s Out-Numbered, Jason’s Out-Numbered, Jason’s Out-Numbered.” I closed my eyes and started to sob uncontrollably. When I re-opened my eyes, Oprah was gone. I tried to run away but the ground had turned into a canvas of liverwurst and I kept slipping and sliding, unable to move an inch. Then I woke up.
Since then I have had three more Oprah dreams, each one stranger than the last. I have never been a huge fan of the Oprah show. In fact, I have on more than one occasion ridiculed the phenomenon. But I am now on a quest. I consider my dreams a sign from above. I have had an Oprah-body experience. From now on, I will devote at least one tenth of my waking and or non-waking hours to pursuing my ultimate goal. I will be a guest on Oprah. I will do whatever it takes to appear on her show. I am a bona fide D list celebrity in the blogosphere god damn it. I deserve a shot. I will jump up and down on her leathery couch and confess my love for my wife and two beautiful daughters. I will cry in front of America when she asks me about baring my soul on the Internet week after week. I will kibitz with her about her favorite things and her book club. I will gush about her heart-wrenching role as Sophia in The Color Purple. I will thank her for Executive Producing the television movie version of Tuesdays with Morrie. It is in the cards. It is my destiny. Out-Numbered WILL be a weekly segment on the show and it WILL appear in O magazine.
I started my quest this past Friday when I registered as a member of the Oprah online community. I created my profile and noticed that once you were a member, you are able to post a personal blog to the community. This was my big chance. This was my first litmus test with the Oprah fans. Of course they would accept me. They will love Out-Numbered. Oprah can’t deny her fans for too long. As my first posting I chose, “New Year’s Resolutions are Stupid…” I thought this was a nice introduction to the blog and it was relevant to the moment. I posted it on Friday evening. On Saturday afternoon I signed in to Oprah.com and noticed that the moderator of the site had taken down my blog post. I checked my inbox and found the following email:
A friendly reminder... We ask that members keep good manners in mind when using our online communities. We do not allow messages that contain vulgarity or masked vulgarity. To learn more about this and the other message board rules, please click the “House Rules” link, located on the main message board page. We appreciate your attention and cooperation.
Harpoboard1, Oprah.com Community Moderator
So much for destiny. My dream of meeting Oprah died in the ass faster than I could say, Dr. Phil. Oh well, at least I still have my D list celebrity status in the blogosphere and I’ll always have Out-Numbered…