Brooke Hamilton

I had a dream last night; I was at a cottage with my parents and brother and sister and Hank Azaria arrived. Apparently he was buddies with Dad. He looked at the computer I was at, which was full of pop ups, and asked what I was doing. I said, “I want to get tickets to Conan’s new show” confidentially to him.

“That’s tonight,” Hank said.

My face fell. I was hoping it was months away.

“I can get you in.” His smile was small and furtive.

I brightened and jumped to my feet. “You can?!”

“Yeah…let me make a few calls.” He walked off and when he came back he told me he had gotten me into next week’s show, which made me relieved because I had time to shower and put on a dress and lose 110lbs.

A week later, I borrowed my parents car and drove to Boston where I waited in a special celebrity booth to get in. Jennifer Anniston was there and Hank’s wife. I made lame jokes that I can’t remember and tried not to fiddle with my hair.

Once I was seated, I kept an eye out for Conan. Finally he came out and made his way back to our section. He was grinning widely and I was staring at him, just beaming. He didn’t say anything to me, but he seemed really happy.

I’ve never seen Conan in person live, on the street, or through his living room windows. My parents have been to a taping of his show. For a long time it wasn’t okay for me to see him because I was unwell. Now that my delusions are gone and I feel like I could confidently sit in his audience watching as he ignores me, not hoping for anything more than to see him and his show… he doesn’t even have a show to go see!!

There’s still a small chance that he’ll read my book when it’s published. After all, he’s in it. But that is just a dream and it is lovely to dream but in the end, Conan’s not here and I’ll never get to bring him to Thanksgiving dinner or take him to the movies.

Times like these I’m glad I have a boyfriend. He’s not Conan, but he is his own unique person and I love him for it.