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Flamenco with Ed Bagley

Oh this one hits 8 out of 10 on the weird-o-meter. First, I haven’t remembered a dream in a long time. So last night took me off guard. Second, there were guest star appearances by Ed Bagley, Jr. and Steve Jobs (although this was just a cameo). Like many of dreams, it began in a large building. Last night, I was in a hotel. A meandering Spanish mission style. I am usually wandering or lost in my building dreams. This time I was dancing a flamenco down the halls and from room to room. I think table tops were involved at one point and I recall hearing “Do you like the way I use my walk / I am woman’s man / No time to talk.”

I make my way out of the hotel onto the front drive. There a Goth clad acrobat troupe are tumbling up and down the drive. A woman in a worn white slip and white body paint comes towards me. She spins laterally in the air. When she blinks, a large eye in the middle of her face opens. Once directly in front of me, she tells me that I need a lesbian girl friend. I ask why she suggested that. She just replies, “You look like you could use one.”Ed Bagley appears at the end of the drive and says some forgettable things about electric cars and the environment. Shortly after, a modern styled hybrid car drive by. Inside sits Steve Jobs. The car just drives to the hotel. I hope I don’t have to pay those assholes scale.

Sex Party & Flying

Last night, I get a two-for-one. I like it when I can wake from one dream, take a few notes, hit the head, and fall back into another dream. The only drawback is that I can’t drop back into the dream of my choosing. Why can I recall any memory of my choosing, but I can’t bookmark a dream? The brain can be rubbish. Enough dwelling on frustrations. Let’s get into the juicy stuff.

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A Blonde in Black

The conference was extended at the last minute. I was almost on the plane when I heard. Luckily, the hotel still had my room available. To celebrate, a group of us planned an evening at a five-star restaurant. A gorgeous blonde that I eyed during the conference invited me. She was dressed in a black evening dress. I knew that I had put on something better than jeans and my latest Hawaiian shirt.

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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.

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Dreams of Naked People

I don’t usually remember my dreams. They just seem to spin through my head, sort out the day’s data, and evaporate like morning dew. If I want to recall my cartoons of slumber, I have to wake immediately after the dream and transcribe the hole thing. Like hell, if I am going to ruin a perfectly good nights slumber to write down something that bores most people.

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