Once again: Tom Cruise appeared in a dream last night. We have a coffee date. As we walk down the street, I tell him how beautiful Katie Holmes is. He couldn't have chosen a better wife (except for me maybe). In my dreaming mind, I think, "I'm totally sucking up to Tom Cruise. Why would I ever do this?" Sure enough, Tom seems turned off by my gushing. So I rapidly change subjects: "Aren't the Papparrazzi annoying?" I ask. "How do you deal with it?" More turn-off by Tom. He checks his watch and says he has to go. Scene change: I'm in a large ballroom. Katie Holmes and I are walking together. I gush, "you just get more and more beautiful since you married Tom." As if I could call him "Tom." She smiles but is onto my brown-nosing. I'd have to try harder to impress her. "Oh Katie, you were always great, but in interviews, since you married Tom, you have such interesting things to say." Of course, Dish feels the opposite. I keep gushing, compliments spewing everywhere. I have become what I hate and wake up to a cat paw poking me in the face. Why the desperation, Dish? I won't say a thing about my super-nasty Jude Law dream the other night. I'm not even into him but we almost went to jail for our crimes. Bad Jude. Bad Dish.
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