Stacey Hatton: Rockin’ a look isn’t all it’s cracked up to be

Have you ever had a dream that you went to school in your underwear? Yeah, me neither. That would be awkward to admit.

Actually, I had numerous variations of weird dreams as a child, which I’m sure isn’t surprising to those who know me. I even walked and talked in my sleep. I prefer to think I was chatty even while sleeping.

I became obsessed with analyzing dreams when I grew a bit older. I didn’t have a crystal ball or Tarot cards, and never took money for my services — this “talent” was a mere hobby. Plus, carnivals weren’t exactly knocking on my door.

I once checked out a dream analysis book from the public library, eager to explore my friends’ dreams. What a fabulous guest I was to be at slumber parties. In between Mad Libs, Ouija boards and the light as a feather game, I was going to be a hit!

Ah, the good ole days when we could be easily lifted by girlfriends, using only four fingers each. It would take a lot more than magic to get me up into the air now!

Several friends divulged dreams where their teeth fell out or crumbled from their mouths for no rhyme or reason. The flying dream was a popular one too. Although I never found my inner Super Girl, I sure thought soaring around town sounded super. The dream where you go to class and the teacher gives a test that’s 80 percent of your grade but you hadn’t read the material was always horrible.

Recently, my husband and I were invited to a charity event, which was hosted by a friend of his from college. A few of his fraternity brothers from all over the country were coming. Since my husband hadn’t seen many of them in awhile, he wanted to catch up with his buddies and to support his friend.

Several bands were scheduled to play, there was an open bar, and since it was right before Halloween, our invitation requested everyone dress in some kind of rock ’n’ roll costume.

Since I’m the theater geek and my husband is an engineer, I’m typically the one who loves to create crazy costumes and Hubby politely goes along with it. But this time he insisted we should go all out.

Dressed as Axl Rose from the rock band Guns N’ Roses, my husband escorted me, a frightening cross between Marilyn Manson and Ann Wilson from the band Heart. Let’s just say I was working the AARP card-carrying Goth look.

As we sat in the parking lot outside the venue, I noticed several couples arriving without costumes.

“The invitation did say costumes, right?”

Axl flipped his blonde wig to the side, “Oh, yeah. We won’t be the only ones dressed up.”

Famous last words as we entered the event. There might have been an audible gasp when we strutted through the doors, but I can’t rule out that it came from me.

It’s an understatement to say we turned a few heads. Many of his normally dressed college friends didn’t recognize us at first. What a surprise! But when it clicked for them, much laughter ensued. Please note that none of it came from my black lipsticked mouth.

I was one mortified Morticia. I wanted to check into a Black Flag Roach Motel and never check out. Instead, I hit the bar — nothing like drowning your sorrows like a band roadie after a killer show.

The next day, I awoke with a mighty headache and eyeliner down to my shoulders. By the standards of every great rocker, I had arrived!

From this experience, I realize the life of a rock star isn’t all that it is cracked up to be. My children can be confident that when their whining is cranked up to a 10, their mom won’t give it all up and join a band.

Actually, I plan to sit in my rocker by the window awaiting the postman. That AARP card is sounding pretty good about now.

This story was originally published November 14, 2015 at 10:03 AM with the headline "Stacey Hatton: Rockin’ a look isn’t all it’s cracked up to be."