I don’t know why I remember my dreams in rather vivid detail. Nor do I understand why I must subject my friends to their content. I thought I would share last nights and see if there was anyone brave enough to offer insight into what my subconscious might be saying.
In my dream I am asleep on my stomach when I feel this hand very tenderly, and quite skillfully, providing attention to an area of my anatomy that has been neglected far too long. Although I am enjoying this to no end a thought crosses my mind if this truly is a woman. The room is dark and I can only feel warm breath on my neck. As I try to return the touch I am jokingly rebuked and feel the warm breath on my neck again. Then I feel the nipples gently swaying across my back, brushing the skin ever so slightly. I realize I can feel her moist essence pressed firmly against the back of my thigh. Her hands never stopped. Suddenly her cell phone rings and she says that she has to leave. I have no idea who she but she kisses between my shoulder blades and assures me she will see me later that evening.
I get up to take a shower and walk though the house. The top floor resembles an older Victorian while the downstairs is a small store front. The business is slim on decor with a sofa, desk and two chairs that could have been pulled form the set of the Brady Bunch. I am suddenly dressed when a woman I assume is my boss tells me to take some legal documents to the San Francisco office. I hope on my bike, yes bike, not motorcycle, and began pedaling from Sacramento to San Francisco. In no time at all I am riding on a bike path on a beach in The City. There is a nigh time cheer-leading competition happening on the beach and I do my utmost not to disturb the event. I carry my bike from the path up a winding staircase through a rusty metal door. Inside the door this elderly man is sitting on a broken card table held together with duct tape. He looks over the documents, stamps them three times and sends me back on my way to Sacramento.
I arrive in Sacramento and there is a heated debate going on in one of the offices. It is easy to hear volume but not words through the large comforter dividing the two offices. One of the women, I assume is a lawyer, tells me to go next door, get her client, and keep him busy until she has time for him. I go next door and the client is OJ Simpson. He is rather embarrassed that the attorneys in the dilapidated store front is the only one he can now afford. We go for a walk where we see in the distance a small street fair. The music was some bubblegum group from the 50’s. OJ asks if I would like to dance. I tell him I don’t know how to dance to which he proceeds to tell me. He twirls me around and I see cruise ship docked in the ocean with a mascot of a cartoon orange penguin painted on the side…. That is when my alarm went off.
Any insight or should I have myself committed?
