The other night, I dreamed that I was at a Paul McCartney concert. Near the beginning, there was a drawing. One person in the audience would be Paul McCartney girlfriend, for the concert, or a day, or some other amount of time. That was a prize. I won. Being Paul McCartney's girlfriend for the concert entailed sitting on the stage to watch the concert. Afterward, he gave me a "Lovely to meet you not get me out of here" celeb kiss on the cheek and disappeared. I was quite upset by his departure and so his crew organized a Q&A with a bunch of other groupies where I was supposed to tell them all what it had been like to be Paul McCartney's girlfriend for 3 hours. At first, I thought it was like group therapy, but then I realized that I was expected to be bragging about this glorious event. So I sat, on the stage of a school auditorium and fabricated stories about our AMAZING connection (Umm...yeah...Age of Love rambled in the background of my knitting the other night. Please don't berate me....I swear I didn't watch that disaster of a show on purpose or with any amount of attention!) that sparked the moment I heard my name drawn.