That title is basically all you need to know about me—I love (still love) the Jonas Brothers so much that, yes, I had a dream that I was Nick Jonas. I don’t often dream that I am someone else, and certainly not someone so . . . Nick Jonasy. The dark hair, the olive skin . . . Maybe the only reason I married Nathanael was so we’d have curly, dark-haired, olive-skinned Nick Jonas babies!!!!!!!
So there I was, just bein’ Nick Jonas while Nathanael was either Kevin or Joe, I’m not quite sure. The fifteen minutes of fame were a blur, people—all I know is that he was there and he was one of them (probably Joe because they both have straight hair).
We gave an outstanding concert to a full venue, naturally. An hour-ish later, after we’d relaxed in our dressing room and gave the audience ample time to clear out, my brothers and I/me, my husband, and whomever was possessing Kevin decided to practice a new number on the stage. However, in true Shelbey form, I had just washed my face and smeared jojoba oil on it, so I was worried about being shiny under the stage lights (I’m not sure if I have more serious problems than that in real life. . .). Then I remembered that the venue would be empty and no one that would see me!
However, when Joe/Nathanael, Kevin, and I/Nick walked out on stage, we saw that there were some dedicated fans who had been so moved by our performance that they were still sitting in their seats, most memorably a mom with four young girls with her. There were probably about 30 in total. Being the philanthropists that we—they—are, we decided to give them a private rendition of whatever number we were practicing. I’m sure it was awesome, but my dream kinda skipped to the end part where we bowed. But being Nick Jonas is fun, I gotta say.
Suddenly, we had to rush to catch a flight to our next location. Evidently, the concert we had just given was in Paris, so there I was, standing in a dirt lane in the Tuileries with all of my luggage in the twilight, back in my body, waiting for Nathanael so we could catch our flight. I saw him running toward me, so I started jogging so that when he got to me, we could just keep running, kind of like in a baton race.
We both had multiple suitcases all strapped to one larger, rolling suitcase so we could pull one handle and carry all of our stuff. While sprinting behind N, I noticed—stick with me—that there was a shadowy question mark in this rectangular space in the upper right-hand corner of his luggage where his scripture case was “supposed” to be, the exact question mark that appears when something you have a link to in your dock is deleted (on a Mac). I, conveniently, had Nathanael’s scripture case in hand and placed it in its correct spot, causing the question mark to disappear. Now if only I could get my Mac to give me back permissions to my old folders so easily . . .
We ran past my study abroad program director (how does my study abroad seem to work itself into all of my dreams? It’s making me look obsessive.) and he was apparently filming each of of us as part of the study abroad documentary, which never existed. He called out, “Shelbey, is your clip the one of you guys running?” and I answered “Yeah!!!” and we kept on running. Does it make sense? Did any of this make sense?