I Dreamed I was Paris Hilton

THE NIGHT I  DREAMED I WAS PARIS HILTON

         "Oh my God, I am so hot!!" I screamed, as I stared into the grimy mirror over the sink. While normally I wouldn't think of myself as unattractive, when I stared into the mirror the reflection was one of extreme beauty and sex appeal. My eyes were so blue, (fake contacts) and my skin so flawless, (Maybelline). Yet I was so attractive and I was truly Paris Hilton!! I could not believe my "fake" blue eyes. I really was the skanky Hilton heiress.
         It shocked me so much, because when I fell asleep on my lumpy couch I was a 41 year old gay man with a beer gut and a mustache and goattee dyed with "just for men" natural light brown. Although considered attractive by my peers, I was no Paris Hilton.
         As I looked around the tiny space I realized I must be in some sort of jail cell. I vaguely remembered hearing something about Paris Hilton heading for jail, but never believed it and it wasn't supposed to happen for at least two more days. Why was I dreaming of being Paris Hilton, and why was I in jail? I had no answers.
         As a middle-aged gay man in my 40's, I tend to adore the drunken, slutty antics of the up and coming anorexic Hollywood starlets. I read all the trashy magazines, watch all the "yawn" reality shows and scan the internet for any juicy gossip about my "coke snorting" heroes. I do all these things because I feel it is my duty as a gay man of America to follow their spoiled rich lives.
         Anyway, back to my dream. I lay down on the tiny cot and felt the rough sheets brush across my over- moisturized hands. The sheets were definitely not Egyption cotton! I closed my eyes and brushed my silky blonde hair behind my head. "How did I get here and why was I now Paris Hilton?" My mind began to wander and I remembered some previous dreams I had after a night of heavy drinking and binging on Reeses cups and chips. These dreams had been especially vivid and colorful, but all I remembered eating was a bowl of stew, and no beer. Maybe I was having a psychic dream and could write a book and appear on the "Maury Show" and talk about my visions and make millions!
         I have had a few prophetic dreams and have felt "Deja Vu" a few times in my life, but my ESP never quite worked correctly. I always had crazy dreams months before things would happen, and the dreams were always so confusing that I would forget them, until the events actually transpired, when it was too late to do anything about them. I guess I  have CSP-"Confused Sensory Perception."
         I decided that this was CSP, and I was going to enjoy it as long as it lasted. I ran my hand down my orange pants and felt my smooth, bony chest. There was no beer gut! I rejoiced. I could finally wear skinny jeans and stop sucking in my stomach at parties and nude beaches. It was good to be a Hilton.
         But as my hand moved further down my smooth chest, another bulge had disappeared; a bulge that I actually liked. I felt horrified and sad at the same time. I was now a woman. Although I love men, I have never had the desire to be a woman. I enjoy my manly organs and I love being a man. I felt very sad. I felt my eyes fill with tears and I was overcome with sadness. I glanced around the tiny cell and suddenly had a panic attack. I couldn't breathe and felt as if I was having a heart attack.
         "Help me" I shouted, "guards please help me, I am having a heart attack!"
         Within seconds, the cell door was opened and a very handsome guard in tight grey pants stepped inside. "What is wrong Ms. Hilton?" he asked.
         "I feel like I am having a heart attack. I can't breathe and I am claustrophobic. I need to get to a hospital.!" Those were the last words I uttered as I collapsed beside the metal toilet.
         I remember waking up at my mom's house with a tacky plastic bracelet around my bony ankle. My mom was rubbing a cold wash cloth across my forehead. I felt so safe and happy. I was no longer in jail and I was with my mom. As I glanced up at my mom I realized she wasn't my mom. My mom is 74 and has grey hair and wrinkles and has too many dolls.. This woman had blonde hair, blue eyes and skin that was smooth as a baby's bottom. It was Kathy Hilton, Paris' mom. Well, it was just a dream anyway, so I decided to play along.
         "Paris dear, you're awake. I'm so relieved. Would you like something to drink? Maybe some Champagne or Stoli? What can mommy get for my precious Paris?" As she glanced at me I noticed that her face had no expression. I guess she had too much botox.
         "Mom, what happened? I know I was in jail, then I woke up here with you. Why do I have this tacky bracelet on my ankle?
         She twiddled her diamond earring and smiled. "Paris, sweety, you had a panic attack and the police chief released you because of your condition. We told the press you had  "health problems." He gave you this monitor on your leg and confined you to house arrest for 45 days. It is so horrible and unfair. You will be trapped in this tiny 50 room mansion with olympic pool and movie theater for 45 horrible, boring, hellish days. I'm trying to get our lawyers to overturn this horrible injustice. I 'm hoping your father can contact some of his friends in the police department and maybe make a donation or something. I'm sure they could use some of those new police cars or maybe a few years of free rooms at any one of our 5 star hotels."
         The phone rang just as I began to sip a glass of  Stoli. I felt my heart began to race again. My mom, I mean, Paris' mom answered the phone. I heard her saying things like, "No, that is not fair, yes she is very sick, she can barely lift her head, you will hear from our lawyers."
         I could tell from the conversation that the news was not good. I looked over at my botoxed mother and asked her what was happening. "Paris, it is not good. The judge is pissed that you were released so early. I guess those bastards at Entertainment Tonight must have riled him up. Anyway, he says you need to be in court by 9am, and you have to go back to jail."
         I felt like dying! I felt as if my world was closing in on me. I arrived at court and the rest was a blur. The last thing I remember was the hateful judge ordering me to return to jail. I looked over at my blonde mother and screamed , "It's not fair! It's just not fair!" She handed me a bottle of Lithium and a glass of water.
         My makeup and eyeliner streamed down my flawless face as the guards dragged me away. I was returned to the tiny, dank cell with the metal toilet and the paper thin sheets. I lay on the bed and cried myself to sleep.
         I awoke the next morning in my huge four poster mahogany bed with the 600 thread count egyptian  cotton sheets. I felt of my tummy and the beer gut was back and so was my other bulge. I was ecstatic. I was no longer an anorexic heiress in prison. I was a fat 41 year old gay man with 3 cats and  too many antiques. I was free, and late for work.
         I jumped in the shower and prepared for work. The TV in the den was blaring and I heard that Paris Hilton was preparing for jail. She was making her rounds before prison and was dealing with her situation with a lot of class. Maybe my dream was another CSP mistake like all the others. As my day at work progressed, I forgot all about my prophetic dream.
         I returned home late that evening and crashed on the couch for another evening of mindless entertainment. Paris Hilton was all over the news. She would enter prison around 12:30 or so to avoid so much publicity. As I watched all my favorite shows, I munched on salt and vinegar potato chips and drank lots of  Michelob Ultra Light; It's low in carbs and I'm trying to lose that gut before I go to the nude beach this summer.
         I passed out on the couch and dreamed  that  I stole Brad Pitt away from Angelina Jolie and we went to Massachusetts and got married. I tend to dream really big dreams. My mom always said if you're gonna dream, dream big.
         I awoke on the couch the next morning with the TV still blaring. There was something on The View About Paris Hilton. I noticed a little news flash rolling across the bottom of the TV screen. Paris Hilton had been released from Prison because of a "health Condition." I was in shock. Maybe my CSP was actually ESP! I had actually seen the future! I prepared to phone the "Maury Show" and tell them of my revelations. They would pay me lots of money and I could get a book deal, and maybe I could meet Paris and become her new Gay best friend.
         "Nah" I thought, "too much trouble," and I might get embarrassed if all the christians in town heard about it and found out I was gay. I would have to come "Out of the closet" and be on the cover of People Magazine and have all that publicity. It might aggravate my acid reflux and upset my cats too much with all the photographers hanging around the house flashing their cameras."
         So I decided not to talk about my prophetic dream. I went to work, as usual and returned home that evening for more news of my buddy Paris. She was still at home in the mansion with her ankle bracelet, just like I had dreamed. I figured that it would end like that. There was no way that Paris would return to jail. I'm sure some money was exchanged and pretty soon the whole LA Police Department would be vacationing all over the world at 5 star Hiltons and nobody would suspect a thing.
         As the night wore on more news flashes appeared and it seemed that the judge was very upset that Paris was released and the LA police chief was in some hot water. Paris was scheduled to be in court the next morning. It seemed as if my ESP was finally working. I returned home that evening to discover that Paris had been returned to prison and she had cried out in the courtroom, "It's just not fair!"
         I felt a chill run up my spine. I had lived that moment! In my dream I had been Paris Hilton and I had felt her pain and her fears. I had felt her makeup run down her face and felt her panic attacks! It was so surreal! For the first time in my life, I had had a true prophetic vision and it actually came true.
         I said a prayer for Paris and hoped that she would survive her ordeal. I later heard that she had discovered God, after only two days in jail. I guess there's hope for all the other coke snorting socialites in Hollywood.
         Anyway, now that I know that I am a true prophet, I will pay more attention to my dreams. Especially my latest dream. You hear me Brad, if you get bored with Angelina, I'll be waiting.