Wouldn't that be an awesome name for a book? Or at least the working title of a dream I had on the weekend...

I knew that I was going on a little girls-only holiday to New York City. Hooray! For some reason, I kept on putting off packing for the trip. My husband would remind me before bed each night and, like any professional writer, I said, "No worries, I'll do it tomorrow."

Next thing I know, Aden is driving me to the Big Apple to meet up with my girlfriends. (In my dream it only takes an hour and a half to drive from Toronto to NYC, sweet.) I have no memory of packing my bag, so I peek inside it. There are 2 of Aden's sweatshirts, work boots and an empty Ziploc bag (all my dreams have product placement, forgive me for not warning you). Hardly the fancy duds I had planned on taking.

Then he has the nerve to ask if I had brought the directions to the hotel. Of course I hadn't. So we pick up a hitch-hiker who looks a lot like Michael from Lost. Only with shoulder-length dreads. For some reason, this dude knows where the hotel is.

We all pull up to the hotel, which just happens to back onto an off-Broadway theatre in the middle of freaking nowhere. No skyscrapers, no big city lights. The hotel and theatre seem to have been plunked down into the parking lot for a large suburban mall.

Before I can even turn around to see if there's a Target, I wake up. Damn!