Last night I dreamt I shot Sarah Jessica Parker.
I’ve nothing against the girl. In fact, in the dream she agreed that I should. She and I were part of a small group fighting some battle or other and for some really logical reason that drifted away as I drifted awake we could only win if I shot her.
It was like the end of Terminator 2, where Arnie agrees that they have to destroy him so that Skynet won’t be able to invent a him in the future from bits of him they find in the present (that may well be the single daftest sentence ever typed onto the internet, yet it‘s completely accurate).
I’m not sure how that applies in this case. Perhaps we all hoped that her fashion sense should die with her. Perhaps it was important that she never wrote another sentence in her column (essentially a blog in paper form). Perhaps we were saving her from marrying Mr Big (it can’t be an easy life being known as Mrs Big).
But all of that relates to Carrie in Sex in the City (and I’m startled at how much I know about her), whereas the girl in the dream was definitely SJP. I don’t know why it was her and I know nothing either good or bad about her, so have no idea why her sacrificing herself would help our war in any way.
And as I say, I’ve nothing against her. Which is why I’ve successfully resisted the urge to call this post “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They”.
Though not successfully enough that I could leave that joke out altogether.
But I’m not going to say anything about “night mare”.