In dreams

In my head, I’ve written a flurry of furious blog posts. In reality, meh.

Today I prefer to think about last night’s dream, in which I found the ever-elusive unicorn — a man I am attracted to.

Maybe it was Meghan McCain announcing her engagement, as crudely and obnoxiously as anything delivered out of her stupid mouth. I thought she was gay. (I still think that.)

As for me, I’ve been feeling pretty asexual this past decade or so. So, good to know there’s still something stirring down there in the ol’ beaver moon. (That’s tonight, dontcha know.)

In any event, he was rich. Tall. Had an awesome butt. Never quite knew myself to be a butt girl. But I was grabbing it in the dream and rather enjoying it. He had a mansion by the beach. And long hair. Helloooooo gorgeous!

Of course, as dreams do, they serve up the uncomfortable. He was a private citizen. Sheltered. Wasn’t used to going out in public because he and his family were regarded as royalty. So anytime we went out in public, we had to be “appropriate.”

Which, I’m not exactly a PDA fan anyway. But damn. Put restrictions on my behavior and I’m going to rebel. Especially with someone that damn hot.

I got sick of it all in the end. Being around other people did me in. I wanted to introduce him to my world, and he was so happy to be in it. But I needed a break. Not a long one, but definitely a day to myself.

And I wondered if I will always be this way — ready to bolt at the first sign of anything real.

I guess I always thought if I found something right, I wouldn’t want to bolt at all. This worried me long after I awakened.

In any event, doesn’t this beat hearing about how I got bullied into a sham of a Halloween costume contest and made an enemy as I squirmed out of it? (And why is squirming/bolting somehow the theme that holds my life pieces together?)

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