I Had a Dream In Poetic Rap II
I had another dream; I was on Fantasy Island, and it was a follow-up to the one with the beautiful Hollywood female stars who wanted to be with me. They offered to buy me houses and cars. But I was careful because last time, it got quite bizarre, and I think I let it go a little too far. But what could I do when Brigitte Bardot said she wanted to make love to me?
In this crazy dream, Brigitte Bardot and Marilyn Monroe were both caressing my toe, which caused me to glow. And then they asked, “Would you like a Ménage à Trois?” I honestly never thought it would go that far. I panicked, jumped in my car, and drove to the nearest bar as I followed the stars.
I got pretty wasted and couldn’t believe that both Brigitte Bardot and Marilyn Monroe wanted to make love to me. Slowly, I drove down to the sea. And there, staring at me, were Sophia Loren and Jayne Mansfield. I started thinking, “This probably isn’t where I’m supposed to be.” Then I started running as they chased after me. I felt like a coward, afraid I might run into Moe Howard. I quickly trotted but then hit a barrier that was solid.
It was a piece of wood with the name “Natalie.” She said she wanted to chat with me, but I could see she didn’t just want to talk over tea—she wanted to devour me. So I ran again into a dark hut, and the last person I expected was Ann-Margret. She was dancing and advancing. I ran so fast I nearly ran out of gas. And when I couldn’t run any farther, right behind me, running faster than anyone had ever run the 100-yard dash, was Lana Turner. But I didn’t want to turn to her because, in the corner of my eye, I saw Elizabeth Taylor. I admit I felt like a failure.
She was still looking for husband number nine and thought I would do just fine. I think she was drinking a jug of wine. But I looked at my watch and said, “I’m sorry, my dear, now is not the right time,” as I slipped away, feeling like a piece of slime. Now I was almost numb, but there were these beautiful legs belonging to Angie Dickinson. She said, “You can have them if you want some…” But I was a coward—again, I started to run. I thought, “You’re crazy! With that redhead, you could have a lot of fun.”
Then another redhead appeared—Rita Hayworth, alongside her friend Ava Gardner. They both said, “You would make a good partner.” But I was a nonstarter, and by now, I was a good darter. Then I heard two people calling someone a Welch. I peeked in, and it was Raquel. She said, “Come here, my dear, and let me put you under my spell.” I thought, “Oh hell… I have to run away from another bombshell.”
And then there was Eleanor Roosevelt and Mother Teresa wearing wet T-shirts. They saw me and went berserk. I started screaming, “This will never work!”
Just as I started to relax, along came Shirley MacLaine, who began to complain that most of her life she chased fame and drank a lot of champagne. She said she had just come from Spain—or maybe it was Bangor, Maine—and asked if I wanted to make love to her in the rain. I said, “What do you want with a guy like me? I’m quite plain.” She said I reminded her of someone she was with when she was high on cocaine and starring in the play Mame. Then I thought she had gotten twisted in her brain when she said she wanted me to be her man and take my last name. If I left now, I knew she would be in pain.
So I waited for her feelings for me to wane, then said, “You will probably find someone, but don’t be vain. Maybe a nice guy from Ukraine.” And then I quickly boarded the very next train. As I said goodbye to Shirley MacLaine, I hoped I wouldn’t be running into Saddam Hussein. And to Shirley MacLaine, I gave my final line: “Maybe next lifetime.”
That was my second dream, filled with all the beautiful people—the cream of the crop. And now, as I awaken, I wonder why I ran away and didn’t take a fling. But maybe it’s because I will go back again and change a thing—maybe even offer one of these ladies a wedding ring. Until then, I’ll stay happy with whatever my life will bring and remember: in my dream, surrounded by all these royal ladies… I was once… The King!
Marvin Rolnick