All My Children Best Lines Thursday 6/14/07


Provided By Gisele

Tad: I was tossing and turning. Not the good kind, either. No, I just can't sleep. You? Well, what are you going to do? Normally, it is the time of night that that kind of thing happens, isn't it? You look in the darkness, you visualize your own dreams. Or maybe you do fall asleep, nod off and get whisked away to some fantasy dreamland you have absolutely no control over, you know? A paradise full of beautiful women, and you're the only guy. And, well, you -- you don't want to brag, but the natives need your attention, you know what I'm saying? Or maybe -- maybe you're not so lucky and it's some personal hell that only that late-night burrito can cook up. And when you wake up, it's always in a cold sweat. And you swear you're never going to fall asleep again. Or maybe you're really lucky, and you roll over. You bury your face in the pillow, willing that dream to come back. You know, the special one. Even for a few more precious minutes. No, the line between fantasy and nightmare is a tight one. I should know, because I've been walking it for years. I mean, think about it this way. Even though you know somewhere in the back of your head that it's not really real, right? I mean, you're not really in Barbados. You're not really trapped in that elevator or, God forbid, it's a small world after all. You're not standing naked backstage at your high school reunion. You could be. I mean, everyone's in the same boat, right? Everyone is just a few nights away. A few decisions, a couple of mistakes, one lucky move or two. No, those fears and dreams, they're born from something real. All the hopes and the fears, the frustrations, everything that runs in the background as you go about your day. We're just living our lives. Yeah. Just praying our nightmares never come to pass and praying all our dreams do.

Krystal: ♪ Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper "I love you," birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me. Say nighty-night and kiss me. Just hold me tight and tell me you miss me. While I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me ♪

Tad: Hey, morning. [Irish accent] Would you like a cup of Joe? [Normal voice] No? No problem. It's just as well, because I make lousy coffee. You know, it's funny. After our talk last night, I had a dream, you know? About my daughter, Kate. Actually, who am I kidding? It's the same dream I have every night. There's a knock at the door. I open it. She's standing there. She throws her arms around me and says "Daddy, I'm home." And I know it's her, because I can see Dixie in her eyes. And then I wake up, like every other morning, and I don't have my daughter back. I'm helpless. Powerless. Because I haven't got the slightest idea of how to make my dream come true.

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