Why don't I dream about Orlando Bloom like normal women?

I woke up from a very odd dream this morning:

I am meeting my friend Amanda, who is a comedian, for a drink. As we sit at the bar catching up, Will Ferrell comes over to say hi--apparently he and Amanda have become good friends as a result of her recent work for Comedy Central. They talk for a few minutes, and then he heads off. Next thing I know, Amanda and I are at someone's home, it's really late, and there's no way to get home. We decide to sleep there. There is a small twin bed which we decide to share, sleeping feet to head. It is uncomfortable and I lie awake.

Suddenly, Will Ferrell reappears. I sense he's stranded as well, and looking for a place to crash. I bury my head in the covers, pretending to be asleep. I want him to go away. But he slides into bed next to me. He realizes I'm awake and begins chatting a mile a minute. He asks me about my high school boyfriends, and then he tells me to run away with him. He plants a sloppy kiss square on my lips. I gently push him away. I tell him he's, uh, a really nice guy and all, but I love Scott. And besides, I don't even know him. He gets angry and calls me pathetic and storms off. The dream ends.

When I told Scott about it this morning, his response was that we needed to get rid of our copy of Zoolander.