I can't remember much that happened before the dream-changing event, though I do have a nudge that I was simply driving around our city with two of my friends. We finally said our goodbyes after a few hours of fun, and on my way home I pulled into the parking lot of what I suppose was the CNN center at closing time, but on a much smaller scale. While sitting in my car, I called my friend Kristen and talked to her for a few minutes before opening the passenger door. Still occupied with the phone call, I noticed some of the clutter in my car (mostly practice SAT tests and receipts) fall onto the pavement. Rather than getting out of my seat, walking around the car, and retrieving the items, I chose to unbuckle my seat belt, and reach for the miscellaneous papers (mind you, I was still speaking on the phone). Of course, the latter wasn't working very well and in one final attempt, I sort of bounced out of my seat and in the process catapulted myself out of my tan Volvo straight onto the ground.
Naturally, I started to laugh. I try not to take myself seriously, and in this case, I couldn't. While laying on the ground amidst the papers, which had by now fluttered in every direction, I started to describe to the girl with whom I was speaking what had just happened. It was in that very instance that I noticed a man whom some call the Silver Fox. That's right; Anderson Cooper, anchor of CNN's Anderson Cooper 36o° , was getting into his car. He seemed to be in quite the hurry, so I chose not to bother him. But as I gathered my belongings, he walked over and offered to help. Only then did I notice that my phone was shattered--we're talking keypad ripped off, SIM card bent up, and flippable mechanism ruined. "Guess I won't be needing this anymore," I said, only slightly embarrassed that I'd tried to talk on it in front of him. In response, he guffawed. Yes, Anderson Cooper was laughing quite heartily at something I had said.
The reason for which we started walking into the building was unbeknownst to me, but we ended up standing at the counter of one of those little convenience stores you might see in the airport. As we stood in line, I took a slight risk in telling him of my aspiration to be a journalist, saying "You know, I hope to be a journalist some day" and telling him of my internship with a local newspaper. Cooper handled this in an extremely nonchalant manner, and for some reason I began to take a much larger risk in my conversation with him. "We were learning about Vanderbilt in my A.P. U.S. History class the other day, and it was brought up that you're a descendant of him," I said, but my anecdote was cut short by his almost immediate grimace. That didn't stop me. "I'm just so impressed that you've accomplished so much on your own. You've really made a name for yourself," I concluded.
Then, I woke up. It was 10:45, and I didn't even realize I'd had a dream. Despite the pressure washing that was pounding my bedroom windows and the foundation of my house, I dozed off again.
He handed me my new cell phone, which strangely looked like one of the first-ever models--a ridiculously large, black box with little antenna sticking out from the top. Then I did the forbidden; I asked him to sign the bag. By no uncertain terms, I instantly knew I'd lost any hope to create a bond with this inspiring fellow because he signed and proceeded to walk away in quite the brisk fashion. I followed him back to the parking lot as far as our cars were parked. As I climbed into the driver's seat, I glanced back and noticed a troop of autograph book-bearing Girl Scouts pointing fingers at him and whispering. The uneasiness of Cooper was evident, so I slowly approached him. He was much friendlier this time, and seemed to feel comforted by the fact that I myself was no longer asking for an autograph.
That is when the dream became slightly peculiar. We're talking Maid in Manhattan-esque, but rather than playing Jennifer Lopez to his Ralph Fiennes, I was her son who struggled with public speaking and needed a little mentoring. And hey--no complaints here! He invited me to a concert he was conducting (this idea was probably created because one of the girl scouts asked him to sign and commented on how nice his hands were [creepy] since he was a "famous conductor") and said he'd call me beforehand.
The next day, I received a phone call from Anderson Cooper's assistant and was told I needed to get down to the Woodruff Arts Center for hair & makeup. I rushed down there and was immediately pushed onto the stage to play piano. Apparently I'd written the songs we were performing... Like I said, the dream was becoming increasingly strange.
After the concert--which was a hit, by the way--Cooper put on a bomb suit and climbed into a private car destined for Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson Airport (he was flying to Iraq to do some coverage of the war). I thanked him profusely for all he'd done, wished him luck, and returned inside to share the story of the best two days ever with a few friends in what was now the Rialto Center for the Arts. First, I told Ben & Court and following that I enlightened Sarah & Dani. After the movie, we went outside and were now standing on the lawn of the High Museum. Now joining us were Clarice and Adnan, and we were told that we were being offered special defense training.
With that, I woke up at around 2:15. It's always disappointing to find out that a most fanciful dream is not reality. However, I maintain the hope that some day I will have the good fortune to meet and be mentored by Anderson Cooper. He is my main inspiration as a journalist, and that is why this dream was so incredible. The most spectacular thing he has done, in my view, was that he entered Burma with a forged press pass to interview students revolting against the government. And, to spend a few unreal (forgive the pun) days getting to know someone who I would very much love to emulate was indescribably special to me. If he ever sees this, I hope he appreciates it and is not too "weirded out."
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