Last night I dreamed that I was in a relationship with an average sort of guy, not fat or skinny, or especially fit, just a little taller than me, and just a little bit older. He had average good looks, and, like me, he didn't seem to know what to do with his hair. I was very happy with him. The sex wasn't great or anything, but I felt very secure with him, and loved him very much. I felt like maybe I had found "the one". Strangely, every once in awhile he would turn in to a woman, which was fine, except I was slightly less attracted to her (I did feel some attraction though, which was unusual, and doesn't really reflect how I feel in waking reality). Though I was pleased that we could have kids, he being a woman and all.
But mostly he was a man; a nice man, who cared alot about me and the rest of him family, who worked hard to provide for them, and enjoyed his work, and knew how to have a good time; who I loved, but who was imperfect, with surprisingly skinny legs (I was clutching my arm in my sleep), and not the nicest tasting mouth (which tasted pretty much like my own did when I woke up), and a slightly boorish, simple-minded attitude. I wanted him, and I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life.
Strange, because right before I went to sleep I was thinking about how happy I was to be single, and how I'd like to stay that way for awhile, like a few years at least. And I was thinking that I was really just going to wait until I met someone that I was really, really into, and that if meeting that person never happened, and I died without knowing love, then it would still be better than running around trying to force love to happen, and being in relationships that I didn't really care about, or didn't really satisfy me. So why I had that dream?
On a different note, some of my "friends" from high school were in my dream, the ones that pretended they were cool with homosexuality, but in fact hated it. One of them puked upon seeing me and my man sitting close together. The puke flew out of his mouth, almost vertically, with great force. "Ah yes" I said to myself, "Projectile vomiting." I used to love the idea of projectile vomiting when I was a kid, and would often think about it. It still comforts me, and makes me smile, to think of projectile vomiting, even to this day.
But mostly he was a man; a nice man, who cared alot about me and the rest of him family, who worked hard to provide for them, and enjoyed his work, and knew how to have a good time; who I loved, but who was imperfect, with surprisingly skinny legs (I was clutching my arm in my sleep), and not the nicest tasting mouth (which tasted pretty much like my own did when I woke up), and a slightly boorish, simple-minded attitude. I wanted him, and I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life.
Strange, because right before I went to sleep I was thinking about how happy I was to be single, and how I'd like to stay that way for awhile, like a few years at least. And I was thinking that I was really just going to wait until I met someone that I was really, really into, and that if meeting that person never happened, and I died without knowing love, then it would still be better than running around trying to force love to happen, and being in relationships that I didn't really care about, or didn't really satisfy me. So why I had that dream?
On a different note, some of my "friends" from high school were in my dream, the ones that pretended they were cool with homosexuality, but in fact hated it. One of them puked upon seeing me and my man sitting close together. The puke flew out of his mouth, almost vertically, with great force. "Ah yes" I said to myself, "Projectile vomiting." I used to love the idea of projectile vomiting when I was a kid, and would often think about it. It still comforts me, and makes me smile, to think of projectile vomiting, even to this day.
posted by nearfalse | 10:34 AM
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