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I dreamed I was driving my old station wagon through the streets of San Angelo, where I attended university for a while.



I was wearing a white long linen dress, hand embroidered with flowers and dark ropy patterns, that I made several years ago. The dress was important for some reason.



Many important things happened to me when I was in San Angelo. Maybe the dream was to remind me of this.



I met a man and fell in love with him when I lived in San Angelo. He died a few years later and I have never forgiven him for this. I never told him how I felt, and I have never forgiven myself for this. It is all worms now, so it probably no longer matters.



The last time I saw him alive, I was wearing this dress. I loved this dress because it emphasized the swell of my breasts and the flare of my hips. It drew attention to the parts of me I like touched. His eyes and hands followed the lines of the dress and of my body that night. He later called me and told me he had a very important question regarding my future, and he would ask me when we met next.



It was enough, because there was always tomorrow. But tomorrow didn't come, not for him, at any rate. So my tomorrows were diminished, and I never knew what the question was.



Loss is selfishness. I wallowed in my loss for a few years. I still wonder what the question was. I haven't worn that dress since that night, until I dreamed myself in this dress.



I was driving out to and through the military base at which he was stationed, Goodfellow AFB, I drove through the university where *I* was stationed, Angelo State University, and through the town and the outlying farms. It's all different than when I was there. Myriad small changes that made the city almost unrecognizable, some big changes that didn't seem as dramatic.



I drove by the lake where I seduced a man named Robert in the forwardness of my youth, months before I knew that Ed Moon mattered so very much to me. I smiled at that uncomplicated joyous memory. That was when I learned that the steering wheels on VW Bugs (The old ones, not the new cheesy knock-offs) were detachable, and that the sound nutria make at sunset is a cross between a warble and a croak.



I've never been fearless with my heart. There were, however, days, once, when risks were acceptable. Maybe the dress was supposed to remind me of burgeoning possibilities, of coveting someone's regard, of eyes like schizophrenic stormy skies, dark with the things men think when they want a woman.



I think I'll try to find where I've stored that dress. Maybe I'll wear it. Maybe I'll just look at it. Maybe I'll cry on it like I did when I got the call that Ed had been killed in a lorry accident. Maybe it won't mean anything, to sit there and look at that dress. That would be the scary thing, I think. That I felt nothing. Maybe I won't try to find that dress.

Ok. Two very bizarre dreams in two nights.



The first, I think was induced by both nerves over going to meet people for the first time and over stress from the past week. I wasn't going to post it, but you people need a good "WHAT THE FUCK?!" as much as I do. It is as follows:



I had a wild dream during the little bit I slept Tuesday night. I was up in Edmonton, hanging out with Daermon, Mordes, Janlazer and his finacee, and some stranger to me, drunk, walks up, calls me a fatass then pukes all down my front.



Gross!!



I told him I was going to break each of his fingers in a new and artistic way and he ran. I chased him but I woke up when I caught him.



Thankfully.



I think.



I don't think I would be able to be as blase over it if I had felt his fingers snapping under mine in the dream. Insulting and vomiting doesn't necessarilly call for maiming as vengeance. (Although someone said that, and I quote, "The finger thing is definitely you.")



Ok. last night was the other dream. I have *NO* idea what may have inspired this.



My roomies were out. I was sleeping. I dreamed that the Stay Pufft marshmallow man had razors for fingers and was trying to get at me through my window. (Storm was brewing, tree by the window - you do the math.)



I had lights on everywhere, all the doors and windows were locked, the blinds were drawn ... I felt like such a ... girly girl.



I was wound up in my comforter, and when I went to leap from my bed and turn on the lights I managed to twist my knee.



Over the fucking marshmallow man.



*shakes head in disgust*



Go ahead. It's worthy of a chuckle or three.