I live to sing my #1 pop song versions

So I woke up laughing out loud this morning, and here's why:

I had this dream that I was hanging out in Newport News with my Egyptian friend, Heba; my stepmom, and my aunt. We were giving Heba a ride home, but where she lived was this apartment complex dedicated to Middle Easterners. It was all yellow and orange stucco, extremely hip, and she wanted to show us around. My stepmom was being really schoolgirlish, wanting to pull pranks and stick her head in people's apartments to see if she could meet them.

At one point, she and I broke off from where everybody else was exploring and stumbled onto this lounge which had a pool table, a bar, a big-screen TV and maybe a dance floor. We felt a little trepidation about going inside, and sure enough, a man at a table behind us soon called out in a heavily accented voice, "Excuse me, but you cannot go een zere."

"Oh, it's okay," we said. "We were just peeking."

"What ees thees 'peeking'?"

"You know," I said, covering my face with my hands and then squinting out between them. "Like this. Peeking."

He explained that there was a private party about to start. Heba found us, and the man invited us to sit down with him and this extremely-European-looking lady. It became clear that his accent was not Middle Eastern, but French: a total cartoon French accent.

"Do you want some of zees?" He pointed to a dish on the table. "Eet ees -- how you say -- not ze hummus, but like ze hummus."

"Baba Ghanouj?" I suggested. The man nodded, and we all ate some Baba Ghanouj.

He informed us that he was the caterer for the party, and seemed eager to give us all his business card, which was a really chintzy ivory-colored card with black cursive lettering on it. "You are in a not-so-nice neighborhood? Eet's okay. I go anywhere. I make your party." He lifted up his pant leg to show us his shoes, which were patent leather except for the toes, which were iridescent white. When he flipped a switch on the side of his shoe, the white part lit up and made this great "bezwowowowong" kind of science fiction-y sound.

"In Bolivia," he explained, "you can hear ze shine on ze people's shoes. You can hear ze shine and ze POWER."

It was at that moment that I looked more closely at his business card. I couldn't make out the name, but underneath his name and 'caterer' was a diagonal banner which read 'I live to sing my #1 pop song versions.'

I swear to you that I made this whole thing up, but none of it while I was awake.