October 19th, 2004
Wet Dream Near Miss
I hate getting older. Alright, that’s a common complaint, but my reason may be more honest than you want to read. What I hate about aging is losing some of my favorite simple pleasures. No more eating as much as I want. I have to watch my health. Staying up ’til the wee hours is right out. I have to go to work in the mornings. But what pisses me off the most is the “wet dream near miss.”Wrapped snug in a comforter. Spinning deeply into R.E.M. sleep. I feel the lulling waves of the subconscious slip in between the nagging thoughts left over from the work day. Soon the images coalesce. Ah! There she is, the girl of my dreams. This girl changes from dream to dream. Sometimes I know her. She came from the faces I meet in a day or from the women with whom I share time. Other women come from my deepest fantasies. Either way, these women rock me gently into the night.
