"We're not gonna make that jump".
While chewing gum, I said this in the most nonchalant, calm voice I could say it in to be as convincing and matter-of-fact as I could. And I said it to Jay Z.
Yes, the billionaire hip-hop rapper married to my all-time-favorite artist, Beyoncé.
He was behind the wheel of a blacked-out Mercedes G Wagon with Beyoncé in the passenger seat and my wife Abbey, Kennedy, and I were in the back seat.
None of us had our seatbelts on and Abbey was sitting in the middle seat (how I definitely knew I was in a dream lol). We were speeding on a red dirt road about to launch off a pitiful-looking dirt ramp meant to send us over a channel of water.
I think I turned a dream about chillin' with Beyoncé into a nightmare, and I think I did it on purpose... Right before that, Beyoncé was driving us to this secret rich-people-only location and we were all in the back trying to play it cool and act like we weren't gallivanting with the Beyhive's Queen.
She looked like B-day Era Beyoncé, wearing a blue and white bandana and a matching sarong. Jay Z still had his hair in wicks and we were all in swim clothes.
There was conversation going on but I had no idea what was being said by who because all I could think about was the fact that I was having a dream about hanging out with the most private global superstar on the planet.
Yes, I was lucid dreaming. Usually as soon as I know I'm lucid dreaming, I wake up within seconds, if I'm lucky, minutes. I can't control it, kinda.
But something kept me in this dream for this to be long enough to be a TV sitcom, so I think there was something I really needed to learn from this.
Our top heavy G Wagon came to one of those cool sideways stops that blast dirt everywhere. The drone footage on the dashboard showed a GMC Hummer and a GMC Hummer limo (LOL) launch off the ramp, and the people inside ejected out of the sun roofs in laughter as their cars plummeted into the water.
Wtf?
Seems pretty stupid, wasteful, and exemplary of all the reasons people can't stand truly entitled people with lots of money.
But again, this is a dream so I won't care about it.
We drive back to our private section of this private location and chill out at our cabana, and for some weird reason I was wearing two swimsuits at the same time.
Not a two piece. A one piece with a two piece underneath it. So a three piece? Idk.
Beyoncé is casually snacking on grapes standing outside of the cabana in the hot ass sun, between us and the pool. She's talking to Abbey and Kennedy is just scrolling on his iPad as if Beyoncé isn't just standing there. I want a green grape, but I don't think it'll taste good after I've been chewing on the gum that I can't find a place to spit out. No idea where Mr. Carter went and I can't understand Beyoncé.
I'm too busy trying to take off the top of the two piece beneath my one piece without nip-slipping myself. Annoying.
Wait. I'm lucid dreaming just get rid of it with your mind, duh.
By the time I've mentally subtracted my outfit to a one piece, Beyoncé suggests we take a group picture.
Why does she want a picture with us? "Holy shit this is awesome" I say to Kenn.
But there's a beach nearby and a group of (also rich?) female monks (is that a thing?) in deep maroon monk attire recognize Beyoncé and want in. The group photo is taken so wide you have to zoom into faces to see who's in it. We're all in the back, so we kinda look like monks too because you can only see our faces.
Felt like we got the atomic version of a photobomb. Sigh.
But then Beyoncé suggests we go somewhere else to take a photo with just us in it.
Holy shit this is awesome.
We head to a concrete courtyard in the middle of our private rooms (courtesy of The Carters of course) and it's reflecting the sun so hard we have to squint to see.
Gonna be hard to *smile with my eyes* lol.
Some lady in a sage green outfit with flowy pants effortlessly runs up a wall to take our picture. She clearly has some sorta martial arts background, and maybe a photography one? Seemed unnecessary.
I'm standing to the left of Beyoncé, close enough so that her just washed, damp-ish hair is blowing into my face even with her bandana on. "1, 2, 3."
*Smizes*
Then suddenly we all slowly collapse as if we're melting on the toasty concrete floor and my body feels like it's in sleep paralysis.
I know I'm in sleep paralysis in real life too.
She's literally just on me, and we can't move.
Worst of all, her hair gets in my mouth and the over-chewed gum is still in there. F*ck.
She's performing tonight and her hair is literally stuck in my mouth.
I thought I was lucid dreaming? Why would I turn this into a nightmare?
I somehow have just enough strength to start pulling on the stuck strands with my sweaty thumb and index finger while gnawing at her hair without her noticing.
WHY.
I wake up, toss and turn, go back to sleep, and my dream picks up with me pulling a giant, hairy piece of gum out of my mouth.
Time to wake up. I want out of this.
What do you think this dream was trying to tell me?
The first and only thing that came to mind was that Beyoncé behaves pretty regular for living a not regular life.
The second came to me at the end of writing this email: I'm in control of my dreams. Don't let your subconscious sabotage something good that you're so close to experiencing.
What do you think your dreams are trying to tell you?
✌🏾TTYL!✌🏾
Simie
P.S. It's Virgo season and Beyoncé is a Virgo. I've got more questions.
P.P.S. I love dreams. Even more now after a good friend of mine shared this article with me about dream methodology.
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