My lost weekend took place in the middle of the week this time

I had a dream about Debra Messing the other night, or at least it was someone who reminded me a lot of Debra Messing, and I mean Debra Messing the actress not Debra Messing the sex phone operator, unless they are both the same person, which in that case someone has been lying to me for a long long time.
Anyway, I had this dream about Debra Messing, and in this dream I was in college, so you know the dream had to take place a long time ago, and I was in college, and I had just transferred into a new English class from an old English class during mid-semester, and the two English classes didn't have matching courses of study so I was lost very lost, and because of my lostness I had an attitude problem where I gave the professor a hard time, because I knew he was going to give me a hard time, because I had a reputation as being a bad attitude on campus sort of guy, and I wanted to give him attitude before he gave me attitude, and there we were at some kind of academic stale mate, when all of a sudden Debra Messing, remember her, yeah, Debra Messing walks into the class, right up to the front of the class and she is all emotional and fighting back tears, and she starts talking about how she always picks the wrong type of man, and that all the good man are either taken, or they aren't interested in her, and yeah, I knew Debra Messing was talking about me, because, well, let's face it, in this dream I was all any woman could ever want, and yeah, Debra Messing is now in a full blown weep fest and she is telling about how rotten her life is, with all her different maladies, both real and imagined, and I think the cancer of the knee cap was one of the imagined maladies, but that's only me, and still Debra Messing is going on and on, and all I could do was shut my eyes and shake my head, because seriously Debra Messing is going through an emotional melt down what with all her bad choices concerning men, concerning men who were not me, and all her other bad choices in life that didn't include me, and right about now I am feeling like something BIG is going to happen, like Debra Messing is going to come after me with a big knife or a hand grenade, or maybe Debra Messing is planning another Columbine type thing here, because Debra Messing has always told me who much she admires Michael Moore, and also how much she enjoys killing innocent people, and how flowing blood, lots of flowing blood has always mesmerised her, and wheeeeeeeeeeew, this post about Debra Messing has already lasted longer than the actual dream about Debra Messing, but let's go on until we finish it, ok.
So, the professor asks if anyone knows who this weeping crying girl was, I mean it was obvious it was Debra Messing, but it was a dream, and I suppose he had to ask, and when he asked I just sort of looked away and put on my best I have no idea who this is even though it is obvious it is Debra Messing face, and when no one answers the professor just sort escorts Debra Messing out of the class room and when he comes back he says that was the most pathetic display he had ever seen, and everyone agreed with him, even me, which made me feel bad because ... well, it was Debra Messing, and I knew Debra Messing, and she was a friend, a psycho friend, but a friend nonetheless, and after everyone settled down, and the professor went back to his lecture, I couldn't stop thinking about Debra Messing and her cry for help, and yes, I knew that her cry for help was directed at me, so I figured after class ended I'd better go looking for Debra Messing and see if there was anything I could do to help, and that's what I did when class finally did end, I left the class room fully intending to look for Debra Messing, but when I got outside I was no longer in college, I was in South Korea, just outside of some amusement park hanging around with Hawkeye and Trapper John, no, not Trapper John, the guy who took Trapper John's place, that's right it was BJ, and we were going to go to the amusement park and ride the roller coaster till we puked, and then we were going to go get laid, and probably catch the clap, but not from Debra Messing because she was nowhere in sight.
The End