My sleep is often troubled; fitful and filled with ugly dreams.
Last night, well actually early this morning, I dreamed myself into an unpleasant and ugly situation...
There was a party -- a dinner party. It wasn't at our house; we'd been invited to another person's home. The details are fuzzy, but my sense is that it was some sort of kinky gathering.
I was in the kitchen -- alone. Everyone else was in the dining room, separated from the kitchen by a swinging door. For some reason, I was trying to warm a bowl of chicken noodle soup in the microwave. Suddenly, someone was behind me, smacking me on the ass. I just assumed that it was Tom, and I smiled to myself, but continued to watch the microwave and my soup. Then, the butt-smacker began to rub against me -- humping on my back, and I knew instantly that it wasn't Tom.
I whirled around, in a fury, to confront a beak nosed, man with a fringe of dark greasy hair around his shiny bald head. His dark, glittering eyes were glazed and glassy. He fumbled and pawed at me, trying to turn me back around. I planted both palms on his chest and pushed him away, croaking out a strangled, "NO!" In my dream, it felt as if my throat was constricted so that the sound wouldn't come out. He stumbled but then puffed all up and lunged back at me with renewed determination -- as if he was somehow entitled. This time, I managed to kick at him, and my "NO!" was much stronger. I ran from the kitchen and found myself out on the front lawn of the house. My attacker was right behind me, but I had room now to maneuver and fight -- and that is exactly what I did. The "party" had emptied itself out onto the front porch, and the railing was lined with curious, excited people. I didn't recognize a single friendly face. I was completely, utterly, and profoundly alone...
And when I woke up, I was right in the middle of a full fledged knock-down, drag-out fight -- and I'd found my voice: "Mother-fucker...cock-sucker...cum-wad...limp dick...asshole...dickhead...cunt-face..."
Thank you swan! Two swear-words I didn't know in that list :))
ReplyDeleteSounds horrible!
ReplyDeleteHmmm. Wonder why, girl. If you're not married to him or even if you are, that sick and filthy beating a few times per week is exactly what's causing your dreams (Dad was a psychiatrist HeeHee), giving in actuality rise to Satan who only comes to kill, steal, and destroy. I do not want that for you, girl; I want you to riseabove this filthy world. Lemme give you a higher realm to dream about --- Wanna be at my BIG-ol, kick-ass, party-hardy celebrating our resurrection for maaany eons and eons in Heaven Above, girl? Nikkid floating, beyond-beautiful-bongs, and firecracker-colors you never seen? Meet me Upstairs, girl, and I’ll softly caress your adorable feet for years; I so love you because you’re a part of me (Ying/Yang). You’re more than welcome; you’re so definitely invited --- But, alas, few can handle the TRUTH anymore in this superSILLYous age fulla whorizontal deceit - most of U.S. believe only in the relativism of this zoo-illogical psychosis. Egad! Can you? HooRayGun, sez Ronald Raygun! God - Bless - You. See ya soon for our everlasting journey beyond the clouds.
ReplyDelete