Lil' Kim's Secret
15 February 01
In the dream, I am aboard a 747 returning from Singapore. What I was doing in Singapore is not specified, and indeed I have no sense that I was in Singapore, just that I'm on a plane returning from it. I am traveling in no official capacity, but somehow I know that this flight is primarily functioning to transport the singer Lil' Kim and her press entourage. At some point early in the trip, Lil' Kim's manager comes out of first class and asks which journalist wants to be first to interview the singer. There is an uncomfortable silence. Apparently the journalists are afraid of her. Just wanting to be helpful, I raise my hand and say "I'll interview her." I am promptly escorted in and seated across from her. I start to say something, but Lil' Kim's manager interrupts me and explains that first they want to know my favorite bands, which seems reasonable enough. "Tori Amos, Big Country...", I begin listing, provoking an immediate exchange of exasperated glances between Lil' Kim and her manager, as if to bemoan the fact that yet again they've been assigned a journalist who doesn't like rap. "Hey," I point out, "I'm not a reporter, I just agreed to interview you to get things moving." This seems to placate them, so I go ahead and ask the first question of the interview. A woman seated to my left begins to answer it, and Lil' Kim, in front of me, snaps "I can answer for myself!" Looking at these two women, it finally registers that the one on my left, the Lil' Kim I recognize from posters (actually, in the dream she looks more like Rosie Perez, I assume because in waking life I wouldn't recognize Lil' Kim unless her name was visible tattooed on her naked abdomen), is obviously a paid body-double, while the one in front of me, the actual singer, is a pale, slightly mousy young white woman with short red hair. Before I really have time to contemplate the implications of this, however, or to place the vaguely familiar woman, the dream ends.
The next day, awake, is Tuesday. By the time I get to the record store in the evening, I have forgotten all about the dream. I walk in, go over to the New Releases rack, and pick up the first thing I need, idly flipping it over to look at the track listing. And there, on the back, unmistakable even though only half of her face is clearly visible, is the exact woman from the dream. It is Jonatha Brooke.