Sunday, August 11, 2013

being Pat Benatar

I had a weird dream the other night. I dreamed I was staying in a weird house with my ex-hairdresser (odd fact #1) and her brother. There was a dinner party, and then afterwards the floor turned to sludge (odd fact #2). I was there, but I didn't look like me (as a side note, isn't it interesting when we have dreams where it feels like our point of view, but we look like an entirely different person - I wonder if it's past-life-esque? Anyway...).

Anyway... after the sludge, I put on a performance for all the guests, in the hope it would impress ex-hairdressers brother.  Said performance was an unplugged version of Pat Benatar's "hit me with your best shot" (odd fact #3 - odd because I. Don't. Sing.) with special thrusting and vigorous gestures for the apple of my eye.  Yes, that's right, I was willing ex-hairdressers brother to hit me with his [metaphorical] best shot of love! And he did. And my, it was lovely.

Aside from all the weird bits, when I awoke from this dream all I wanted to do was go back to sleep and dream some more.  Because it reminded me that I want someone to love me, I want to be the object of someones desires, and I would like to have sex again before my insides shrivel and wither to dust.

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