You again
I dreamed of you again last night.
I am not sure how it came to be, but you were here, and I was somewhere, and we kept meeting up here and there.
I had some tickets in my pocketbook, and some of the people tried to take them away, they stole them and passed them out thinking there were football tickets. They were travel tickets. And I got most of them back. But not all of them, I don't think. Anyway, then there was this guy who married my friend Karen, whose wedding I was at in real life, and took the photos. I stumbled across the photos last night while looking for my leftover Christmas wrap. I saw Karen in her wedding dress right before bed and that's probably why she was in the dream. But anyway, there was this artist, a handsome guy, foreign and tall. He had mostly dark hair, some grey. He was a painter and he was strange to most people, but I really liked him.
Well, this guy announces that he is going to need to get married, and Karen runs to whisper to her husband that she wants a divorce so that she can marry artist guy (who is older than her or her husband) She and artist guy marry the next day and I know they are not a good match. I wish he would have picked me instead, just waited a couple of days until I could have met him. Well, sure enough, they are not a good match, she does not care for his artist ways, and she leaves, asks her 1st husband to take her back. So I go to his area in the pavilion where he paints, trying to introduce myself. He is shuffling off with all of his supplies, carrying them to the upstairs where he lives. I wait by the cast iron table to see if he returns for his watercolor boxes and leftover supplies. I want to meet him, he does not return.
So I am now in the house of an unknown person the leftovers of the wedding feast are being made into some kind of seafood chowder. Some of the people who stole my tickets are there, and I demand they return them. One person I know as a sweet person, has bought my ticket from someone else, I offer to pay the ten dollars to have it back. Soon the person who cooked is there and she is not pleased with me and asked me to leave. I wonder why, and then your Annie steps in behind her and I realize why I am unwanted there.
So I end up at my Grandma's house. It is like it is from the old days when I was a girl, full of veterans. When I was a girl, there was a veteran from WWI there, his name was Jack. Jim the retarded guy was there as always and s0 were so many others who were missing fingers or such... leftovers and forgotten from WWII. But this time, there were twice as many, a whole bunch of them eating supper. There was a lecturer there. You were there too, sitting and eating. I sit down next to you and you are happy to see me. You give me a pair of your pants/undershorts. I think you took them off right there and then, but maybe not, and then I was to put them on and I did, but like, without it being obvious...then you show me the pink boyshorts that I usually wear, I think gave you a pair the last time I saw you apparently, and you are showing me them kinda like a joke or a private thing... you joke that they were too small for you, like the last time I saw you, you needed a clean pair or something...anyway I am like: "Put those away, we are in public!" So then a woman comes around and sticks her head in. She is severe with her hair in a grey bun. She is German, but I don't know why, maybe her outfit. she has an accent... She says something and I cannot hear it, so I ask what?? and she looks at me and yells. YIKES, she is scary, she is looking for the people who steal tickets. Not me so I don't worry about it.
It is soo good to see you, your eyes are piercing blue today and I keep looking at you, feasting my eyes. I am sitting near you and we are in a room full of people, but it feels like we are alone. We talk and laugh and joke and soon it is nighttime. We go our separate ways. You are sort of hiding out in my Grandma's house, blending in with all of the war veterans. You are upstairs in the sleeping area of the house for war veterans that my grandma used to run. I go up there to find you... I am on tiptoes, trying not to wake anyone. I wonder which bed is yours? They are all twin beds, and I look and look and I find you in the last room, sitting at the desk, reading the news on the computer. I put my arms around you, and look into your eyes, your eyes are serious. Your country is being attacked, and you are upset. "I must go soon" you tell me. But neither of us want you to leave. You feel an obligation to be there, and we are both sad about your departure. It feels like it is a war.
But it was really good to see you smiling at the dinner table, eyes twinkling and you joking every other minute. We hugged too, alot and that was great.
I am not sure how it came to be, but you were here, and I was somewhere, and we kept meeting up here and there.
I had some tickets in my pocketbook, and some of the people tried to take them away, they stole them and passed them out thinking there were football tickets. They were travel tickets. And I got most of them back. But not all of them, I don't think. Anyway, then there was this guy who married my friend Karen, whose wedding I was at in real life, and took the photos. I stumbled across the photos last night while looking for my leftover Christmas wrap. I saw Karen in her wedding dress right before bed and that's probably why she was in the dream. But anyway, there was this artist, a handsome guy, foreign and tall. He had mostly dark hair, some grey. He was a painter and he was strange to most people, but I really liked him.
Well, this guy announces that he is going to need to get married, and Karen runs to whisper to her husband that she wants a divorce so that she can marry artist guy (who is older than her or her husband) She and artist guy marry the next day and I know they are not a good match. I wish he would have picked me instead, just waited a couple of days until I could have met him. Well, sure enough, they are not a good match, she does not care for his artist ways, and she leaves, asks her 1st husband to take her back. So I go to his area in the pavilion where he paints, trying to introduce myself. He is shuffling off with all of his supplies, carrying them to the upstairs where he lives. I wait by the cast iron table to see if he returns for his watercolor boxes and leftover supplies. I want to meet him, he does not return.
So I am now in the house of an unknown person the leftovers of the wedding feast are being made into some kind of seafood chowder. Some of the people who stole my tickets are there, and I demand they return them. One person I know as a sweet person, has bought my ticket from someone else, I offer to pay the ten dollars to have it back. Soon the person who cooked is there and she is not pleased with me and asked me to leave. I wonder why, and then your Annie steps in behind her and I realize why I am unwanted there.
So I end up at my Grandma's house. It is like it is from the old days when I was a girl, full of veterans. When I was a girl, there was a veteran from WWI there, his name was Jack. Jim the retarded guy was there as always and s0 were so many others who were missing fingers or such... leftovers and forgotten from WWII. But this time, there were twice as many, a whole bunch of them eating supper. There was a lecturer there. You were there too, sitting and eating. I sit down next to you and you are happy to see me. You give me a pair of your pants/undershorts. I think you took them off right there and then, but maybe not, and then I was to put them on and I did, but like, without it being obvious...then you show me the pink boyshorts that I usually wear, I think gave you a pair the last time I saw you apparently, and you are showing me them kinda like a joke or a private thing... you joke that they were too small for you, like the last time I saw you, you needed a clean pair or something...anyway I am like: "Put those away, we are in public!" So then a woman comes around and sticks her head in. She is severe with her hair in a grey bun. She is German, but I don't know why, maybe her outfit. she has an accent... She says something and I cannot hear it, so I ask what?? and she looks at me and yells. YIKES, she is scary, she is looking for the people who steal tickets. Not me so I don't worry about it.
It is soo good to see you, your eyes are piercing blue today and I keep looking at you, feasting my eyes. I am sitting near you and we are in a room full of people, but it feels like we are alone. We talk and laugh and joke and soon it is nighttime. We go our separate ways. You are sort of hiding out in my Grandma's house, blending in with all of the war veterans. You are upstairs in the sleeping area of the house for war veterans that my grandma used to run. I go up there to find you... I am on tiptoes, trying not to wake anyone. I wonder which bed is yours? They are all twin beds, and I look and look and I find you in the last room, sitting at the desk, reading the news on the computer. I put my arms around you, and look into your eyes, your eyes are serious. Your country is being attacked, and you are upset. "I must go soon" you tell me. But neither of us want you to leave. You feel an obligation to be there, and we are both sad about your departure. It feels like it is a war.
But it was really good to see you smiling at the dinner table, eyes twinkling and you joking every other minute. We hugged too, alot and that was great.
posted by Infinitesimal @ 10:17 AM
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