last night a dream about:

summer camp where i learn how to kiss and fondle a boy - not my tt - and receive demerits for it. the demerit is in physical form something like a stack of quarters, except each quarter was a big around as my palm and there are about six of them stacked and fused together. this was a magnet, by the way, and the color/weight of raw iron (heavy!) on top of the demerit is a dime. one dime - shiny and beautiful - for holding hands under the blankets during meditation time.

later, after my family comes to visit and are all tossed into an asylum which involves large tanks of water and bodies swelling up to 200% of their size and down again - all water logged? except for my mother and i, that is. mother takes me home from camp and my boy follows.

at home he is in the attic - i can hear him rummaging around for something, his footsteps creaking across the ceiling. he meets me in the bathroom in secret and we undress as he flips through a magazine of hot dirty and very naked gay cowboys he has just given me. he is all hands in and on me and i want to screw, holding myself open and pleading but he has come already, something i did not realize, and sticks himself in my mouth so i can taste him, his proof.

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and there was a dream sunday night about:

i am working at the pittandpenduleum library again, although this time the physics department is a large, dark green park surrounded by a spiked rod-iron fence...and the library is in a small wooden shack in the center of the yard, and is much more a snack shack than a physics library.

i am late for work - 8 pm as opposed to 8am, and rush to finish my work for the day before going home. i have forgotten to lock the gates when i came in - and patrons keep on entering the library, asking for goodies as such. we are closed, i am sorry, we are closed... i repeat and loose count of the monies again and again. there is a cash register and register report i cannot understand, there are people behind my counter poke/prodding things, touching me as they pass...there is rush and mangle but not complete or peace.

a car drives up through the gate and donuts around behind the library. i walk out to tell them off and there is a tall blonde manboy there, hair tousled and cheeks flushed from his drive. he is going to rape me, something he states as he waves a knife toward my direction. in a flourish i am on him, have the knife in one hand and his wrist in the other as he lay panting on the ground. i can break his wrist with two fingers but decide i would rather fuck instead.

the next day the manboy visits the library with flowers - and i blush.

once again,
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could this have something to do with the uncomfortable feeling of having to explain oneself to your friend's parent's friends at a bar after tasting over a hundred different wines? (your friend's parent's friends...) not just having to explain yourself, but your relationship swingstyle - and really really NOT wanting to and trying to avoid any questions brought up but not being able to.

i kept thinking - how the fuck did this come up? why are they asking me anything about this? why cannot i escape? where is the door? *panic*

this is what happens when you are sober and everyone else is plastered...including your boyfriend with a mouth so very full of sexologies and smarmies he cannot help but burst...pop...fizzle...

i hate being on the spot, always.