I had a dream last night that I went to a beach in Connecticut. I know it was Connecticut because I could see Long Island across the Sound. I was playing beach soccer in the sand, 3 vs. 3’s. It was my team versus Jonathan Taylor Thomas’ team. His team members were his brothers from Home Improvement, Brad and Mark. We laid out the rules before the game. Both teams agreed that you could not shoot the ball from a certain distance. We drew a line in the sand. You had to be inside the line to score. Jonathan Taylor Thomas’ team was not good and they were losing. I was guarding Jonathan Taylor Thomas and he was pissing me off and acting like a little shit. He scratched me, probably accidentally, so shoved him and he began to look emotional. He cried to his brother Brad, but Brad told him to shut-up and to pass him the ball. We played for a couple more minutes. Then Jonathan Taylor Thomas gets the ball. He shoots and scores, but he is standing behind the line we had drawn in the sand, so the goal doesn’t count. I tell him it doesn’t count. He starts to whine like a little pig. He says he was in front of the line when he shot. I tell him he wasn’t and show him the impressions his feet left in the sand where he shot. I prove him wrong. He throws his arms up in the air. His brother Brad tells him to shut-up again and to pass him the ball. Jonathan Taylor Thomas begins to cry and he tells me that the rules are not fair. He said I made unfair rules. I said I didn’t make the rules. I said he broke the rules to compensate for his lack of skill. I said he was a cheat.
Then Jonathan Taylor Thomas began to cry some more. “Give me back my ball,” he says. “I don’t want to play anymore.” So he takes his ball and walks away. His brother Brad calls him a pussy and Jonathan Taylor Thomas tells him to shut-up and that he hates him.
The game is over. I watch Jonathan Taylor Thomas walk up the beach. He sits down next to B. Arthur, who was his grandmother in this dream. B. Arthur (from Golden Girls) is sitting beneath a tree smoking cigarettes in the shade. She looks pale and allergic to the sun. She asks Jonathan Taylor Thomas what’s wrong and he says something cowardly and points at me from where he is sitting. B. Arthur looks up at me and gives me her medusa death-stare. She tries to turn me into stone. For a moment, I feel like stone but I snapped out of it. I give B. Arthur the middle finger because I know I can get away with it. After a while – when he was feeling a little less hurt, Jonathan Taylor Thomas leaves B. Arthur’s company and boogie-boards in the Sound. I think this is stupid because there are no waves in the Sound. He looks like a harbor seal humping a piece of shirt cardboard in a bathtub. I laugh. I laugh loud enough so he will see me laughing at him, but he ignores me and seems happy enough to swim by himself and seems comforted by the waves that are not there.
In the dream, it’s the future. Jonathan Taylor Thomas googles himself because he is feeling depressed about how Home Improvement is no longer on the air and that he is a child star who grew up and is now overweight. He sees his name on the computer screen and clicks on a link that takes him to my blog. He reads this post and becomes more depressed when he remembers how much of a pussy he was on the day my dream took place. He feels more and more unhappy and, to cheer himself up, he takes his boogie-board down to the same beach in Connecticut and paddles around in the Sound. He does this everytime he is feeling sad. It’s wintertime and the water is freezing cold, but Jonathan Taylor Thomas has enough natural insulation because he is now so chubby. There are some migrating harbor seals swimming in the distance and they see Jonathan Taylor Thomas. They are male seals and are very territorial. They swim towards Jonathan Taylor Thomas but as they swim closer they think he is a female seal because his features are soft and his limbs are effeminate by harbor seal standards. The male seals grow uncontrollably horny and rush Jonathan Taylor Thomas and take turns with him and give one another high-fives with their flippers as they use him the way male harbor seals use female harbor seals and they make “ORT-ORT-ORT” sounds and splash in the water and Jonathan Taylor Thomas does not stop them.