Down the Rabbit Hole

I'm feeling quite guilty for being ever-so-neglectful of my poor little bloggy for the last couple of months. But I've been crazy busy and chasing my ass in circles and, oh yeah, I'm still sick. Color me not happy. But I do have two new coloring books. Yay!!!

I don't have any fresh ideas or anything I particularly care to rant about right now, at least not in a public forum where people who I am not terribly fond of at the moment might recognize themselves. Ahem. So, instead, I shall regale you with the tale of the most bizarre dream I have had in quite some time.

In this dream, my lifelong friend and former schoolmate, Dee (Hi, Dee!), was pimping a hookup with a mutual friend--let's call him X (because I will not be sharing that identity here, un-uh, no way, forget it). Now X is not someone I've ever thought about in a sexual way. I mean, I'm sure he's perfectly capable, or a dynamo, or dear God, what horrible road have I wandered down? Never mind. Argh. Anyway, purely platonic. Period.

I'm not quite sure what my marital status was within the dream because Jason was neither seen nor directly referred to, but judging from the furtive, illicit nature of the liaison, I'm guessing my troth was indeed plighted. But the secrecy surrounding the assignation could also have been attributed to my parents staying in the same hotel (in Dallas--apparently, this was an integral detail of the dream because that was, unlike my wedded state, quite clear). Luckily, they were on the 5th floor and I was on the 8th. Whew. Crisis averted.

However, the course of true hookups never did run smooth. Power outage in the hotel. Oh dear. Confounded by the accidental release of some of the caged wild animals also resident in our hotel. This made navigating the hallways quite an adventure. Luckily, the lions and tigers (no bears, oh my) were agitated and you could hear them growling in the dark corridors well before they got near you. To avoid them, you simply climbed up the wall and perched high up out of their reach until they passed by. Yep. What? You were expecting something logical?

After a long and arduous trek through darkened hallways populated by prowling wild beasts, I make it to my 8th-floor room to prepare for the tryst. The power has returned and as I am getting ready, I notice and hazily recall that my goddai friends had all signed my boobs the night before in celebration of my 6-month boobiversary (which really was Friday--happy boobday to me!), clearly accompanied by vast quantities of margaritas, hence the hazy recall. Naturally, the ink will not come off and I am obviously quite discomfited and embarrassed by this because I'm going to have to explain to X why 20 or so of my closest friends have autographed my breasts. Oh well, onward and upward. Winners never quit and oh, never mind.

I would now like to take a moment to thank Jesus, Mary, Joseph, all the saints, Buddha, Hanuman, Krishna, and whomever or whatever else might have contributed to the filter that cut the next scene either from my dream, or blessedly, from my memory. The next thing I remember is clearly after the deed had been done. There was some cuddling (aww, an extramarital sex dream with cuddling--how sweet!) and then I simply kissed him and said goodbye. And that was that. As far as you know.

THE END