A Series of Dreams, No Really Just Two...

I have been battling a nasty cold. Nights have been feverish, lots of tossing and turning.

I had two strange dreams last night. I don't always dream, I don't always remember my dreams, but sometimes I have very vivid dreams, and they seem important, like real events, real experiences, they often echo or mirror my reality, but at the same time, they are a bit weird, surreal, fractured, sort of like they are filmed and projected by a filmmaker and director who doesn't really understand how to tell a coherent narrative. Of course, there are times when my life doesn't resemble a coherent narrative either, so maybe the mirroring is spot on?

First up, someone I know, a beautiful woman was telling me about her latest, best, orgasm. It was an odd conversation. We were laying on cushions outside on a driveway. An intimate conversation outside on the hard pavement. Weird. Not erotic. Sort of clinical. Or not clinical, just matter of fact. There was a shared intimacy, but it was all in smiles, and laughter and gesture. I never learned how this orgasm emerged, this woman talked about it almost like it had rained, or she experienced a sunny day, or she had just eaten an amazing sandwich, or an angel had come down and touched her forehead. I think my main reaction was, "Wow." Nothing resolved. We laid back on our cushions, enjoying the day, looking at the big blue sky above. us. "Hey, did I ever tell you about my best orgasm ever?"

2nd dream: I was in a play. An actor. A major role. Most of the cast members were folks I know from all walks of life. There was big, elaborate set, many rooms, many levels, secret chambers. The actual stage and the backstage area sort of melded. The dressing room, the lunch room, the theater, the stage all was equal. Not sure if there was a script or if everything was improv, don't recall seeing a director. I was in the middle of the play, doing my part, I had a significant role and I was in a long scene with another male actor. After the scene resolved, actually, it didn't resolve, it just kind of dissolved, I went backstage, chilling. The other actor came at me violently, grabbed me by my shirt, got right into my face, and accused me of acting poorly. He was totally pissed off, accused me of "phoning it in," of being a phony, a charlatan. My response? "That's called acting, asshole." I walked back onstage, and someone I know, one of my closest friends was there, dressed just like me, she was playing my part, she was doing my lines, doing my gestures, acting just like me, only, maybe, better, more genuine. I walked off stage into the darkness. Scene.