My dream

I woke up two minutes ago, so here's last night's dream before I forget:

I was in a car with Dad, Holly and Jamie Gold, the 2006 World Series of Poker main-event champion. Dad was driving, Holly was shotgun and Gold and I were in the back seat. We'd all been out on some day trip and had been apparently been having pleasant conversation, but then Jamie put in some segue about how he always wants to look his best, then:

Jamie Gold: "There's this nice shirt I've never seen you wear, Holly."
Me: [suddenly lunging at him and grabbing his collar with both hands] "Mind your own (flippity-flapping) business! If she doesn't wear it, there's a reason!"
Jamie Gold: [horrified look subsides into a coolly vengeful one when he realizes I've just physically assaulted him and could be held liable]

Dad told me quietly that I'd been "very irresponsible," and I realized that, so I apologized and suggested we all go out for steaks, on me. But Jamie declined and faux-cheerfully asked us to just take him home. Home turned out to be his mom's house -- she came out to greet him, he left the car wordlessly and I pulled the door closed. Then the dream ended.

I think I was upset mostly because he had alluded to always wanting to look his best, then implied that Holly was shirking her responsibilities in that department by not wearing this particular shirt in her regular rotation. I also wondered if he wasn't being a little bit of a pervert by wanting somebody else's girl to wear a specific item of clothing. But clearly grabbing him fiercely by the collar was not the way to respond.

Why was Jamie Gold the one in the dream? The 2007 main event started yesterday and I was frequently checking online for updates. Gold wasn't playing, but the guy he split his $12M payday with last year was playing. Those guys went to court over the agreement, I think, because Gold tried to get out of it. He did several things that were out of line in last year's tournament vis-a-vis poker etiquette, but I wouldn't dare bore you with those. Suffice it to say my impression of him was enough of a jerk that he could play the villain in my dream.

Whew. Writing that down wasn't exactly cathartic, but it makes me realize how absurd my dreams are.