It's so interesting what goes on in the mind during sleep. They're like little short films that don't make sense at times. This time I thought my dream was so funny (at least to me), that I decided to share it with you all.

I dreamed I went to the Wynn with Justin Timberlake. I was with him because I hired him as a male escort. However, he wasn't a very good one, as I discovered when we went to the club. I believe it was XS, but I'm not 100% sure. Since I was looking at reviews and pictures of the club last night on Yelp, it makes sense I would have dreamed about it. We're sitting on a couch inside the club, and the hostess asks if we wanted European bottle service. Unfortunately, it would have cost me $475.00, and I wasn't sure if I could afford it. Justin got all pissed off that I wasn't able to buy us a bottle, and he declares to me that even though I hired him, the night was "all about him" and not me! What an asshole!

I worry that I made a mistake. We were supposed to have dinner at the hotel first, then go to the club, but then I forgot we were also supposed to go to a show, but it was too late because the show was already over and it was too late to go. Justin decides to order his own drinks and he didn't offer me any. I tell him that we were going to be late for dinner, but that was okay because if it turned out we couldn't get to the restaurant on time, we could take the bus to the supermarket down the street and we could buy groceries and make our own food since I had a little kitchenette in my hotel suite. He gives me this look like, "Are you kidding???"

Later on, Justin ditches me and I had to try to find him. It wasn't yet crowded since we were there a little early (and the doormen didn't even stop us from coming in - maybe it was because I was with Justin). While I was looking around the dance floor, I see some people sitting on some couches in the corner. I ask one gentleman, "Who's Mr. Wynn? Are you Mr. Wynn?" and the guy says, "No, I'm not." Then I look over to my left and see Steve and Elaine Wynn. I go over to them, shook their hands, and I say, "Thank you, Mr. Wynn, Mrs. Wynn." Mr. Wynn looks annoyed at me, and so does Mrs. Wynn. Maybe they were insulted because I thought that other guy was Mr. Wynn. Maybe they were annoyed that I had gotten into their club with a drunk celebrity. Who knows? I remember thinking Mrs. Wynn's hand felt very bony and cold. *shivers*

I go to the front of the club and people are starting to line up. I see my friend Derek is trying to get in. There was one section that had no people in it and he is standing next to Lady Gaga (I know, this dream is really bizarre LOL). I tell her I'm a local and that Derek is with me. I remember telling Derek that if we got in, we could dance for half an hour and go to dinner before the restaurant closed at 10:30.

Lady Gaga asks me, "What high school did you go to?" and I say, "I didn't grow up here. I'm from California." She looks at me for a moment and says, "Okay, I'll let you both in for free, but next time you have to pay." She writes something in black Sharpie marker on my wristband (the name of the supposed Vegas high school I was from, I believe, so the people in the club had evidence I was *really* a local), then she starts to give Derek his wristband. I say, "Wait! My friend is here too - let me see if I can get him."

I run back inside the club, and I see Justin stumbling toward the men's room, totally drunk off his ass. He is pissed off and throws his bottle of alcohol into a nearby trashcan along with a glass. He goes inside the men's room and I follow him. "Justin!" I call, looking at the line in front of me. To my shock (and even my amusement), his pants are falling off. I grab his arm and say, "Oh, my God, Justin, you have to come with me."

And so my friends, ends my long, strange dream about Mr. Timberlake. I think I've done too much clubbing. I believe I need to settle down and have some R&R time for myself, don't you? ;-)