Yourself or someone like you...
I'd like to see that tattoo. I know. It's silly, but I think you're one of the few people I know whose tattoo I'm actually interested in seeing. And I want to see the piercing too. Specially if you got a PA.
Kidding. Was thinking of you today. Wore that shirt you didn't want anymore (the black one with little somethings kind of stitched all over). I wore to this honors ceremony and it looked quite nice. I sprouced it up with a jacket and linen pants. It was just right. I can't understand why you didn't like it.
Anyway, was thinking about you last night. It may have been that call you made. Or having read your blog. I don't know what it was. But I think you were in a dream I was having which included my academic advisor, my landlords from more than ten years ago and a storm that tore down doors and a cloud that spat fire. Don't ask. I have these Dalí-like dreams in which nothing makes sense, in full technicholor and surround sound. When I can remember them.
They usually include some kind of house in psychodelic shapes with brilliant hues of primary colors, green grass babies and some kind of water -whether deep water, moving water, dark water or just water that I can see- with some people thrown in for good measure.
I think you were more a presence than an actual person in that dream. I think I dreamed that I was thinking about you or someone like you. I'm not sure now.
I have discovered that I cannot usually remember my dreams. Freud would call it censorship. I call it bad memory. I even had a diary for my dreams for awhile when I started having counseling here four years ago. My counselor (Rich, you'd like him) was a pretty cool guy and he apparently liked me to tell him my dreams. I don't think he interpreted them in a very Pavlovian way but more in a general way, to peek at my -convoluted- subconscious.
I dream very little. Given that I have imsomnia -sometimes I go to bed at ten, wake up at two-thirty and cannot go back to sleep until five or six- I usually dream before I wake up or after I go to bed again. I think it has to do with the kind of sleep you fall into when you go (back) to bed. And that's why I remember all these dreams. Those are morning dreams, when I'm exhausted and my mind has stopped running in circles.
And I have noticed that very few of those dreams are wet dreams. Have had very few of those over the last years. And they are usually very incomplete, I never get to DO much in them or have much done to me. They are kind like what actually happens in my real life: an auasi-unconsumated longing, nervous, quick and not very fulfilling. Like a fly on the wall. But it may be a coincidence. I wish I had more wet dreams. That would mean that my potential to fantasize is still intact. But I think I'll become a boring lover. You know... if you don't use it...
Oh, well. So I wore your shirt and it was cool. One of these days you should tell me if you've had any kind of adventures wearing that hoodie you wore that last day you were here, when I got that ticket from the cop who changed my nationality. I'm sure they would be more exciting than the ones I'll have wearing your shirt.
Meanwhile, loved that last entry in your blog. It's so.... you.
Cheers, babyboy. And I still want to see the piercing and the tattoo!