So, the other night, I’m having this dream.
And it was a good dream, because it combined two of my favorite dream topics, sex with strange women, and adventures. See, usually, the two don’t cross paths in my dreams. It’s either sex, or the world is coming to the end. And, usually, since I’m running for my life as the world comes to an end, it’s one of the few times that I’m actually not thinking about sex.
I’m not really sure what it is about blood chilling terror that makes Mr. Winky shrivel up, but hey, it’s the dream world, so we’ve got to go with what we’ve got.
So, anyway, back to the good stuff. We’re on a dark, subterranean river somewhere, on kind of this pleasure barge, when Ms. Cleopatra-look-alike is about to allow me to sample some of her forbidden fruit, as the saying goes. In the background some music starts up, and as I raise her silken robes, I notice what song is playing.
It’s “time” by Pink Floyd, the current mental music plaque of my brain. You know, one of those songs you can’t get enough of, but they keep running around and around and around and around…
I remember very clearly (in the dream) lifting my head up and saying “I love that song…”
And thus ended yet another perfect dream, as I crashed back into reality thinking to myself “who listens to “time” when they’re having sex…?” Well, nobody does, you ninny.
Noticing that I twitched or something as I woke, the dogs jumped up on the bed and loomed over me, insisting to go out. And thus ended the dream, and the tantalizing promises that it held, for the cold reality of the early day. I really need to get my subconscious under control, one of these days…
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