I dreamed that I lived in a little person's apartment, where all of the counters were just up to mid-thigh, and my neighbor was some sort of ... frightening, fabulous gay guy who had a couple of ... young man slaves around, and he'd make them use a leaf blower to clear the path in front of him as he walked. Sometimes he'd just walk around in circles to keep them busy. I don't know why there were so many leaves around, especially on a second floor deck. Anyway, I largely avoided this guy - he almost never spoke and when he did it was in a terrifying booming voice making one-word demands of his men servants. Man servants? Either way, they dressed like they lived at Hot Topic, so I'm sure you can see why I wanted to give that happy horseshit a wide berth.
But one day, the skinny neighbor used my apartment to make a phone call - because in my dreams, cell phones do
not exist. He'd been expecting good news, but had gotten very unpleasant news instead. I decided this guy needed a hug, but he was a little hard to convince to sit still for it. I tried pinning him down in a chair, like, "hey, just sit still ya jerk, this cuddle will fix
everything!" But he just persisted in his zagging, arms akimbo. That sucker was pretty fast.
This dream, to me, is proof positive that not only do I never dream about what I command my brain to dream, but also, I'm pretty effing starved for hugs (not to mention, desperately confused) if I'm considering pinning down the closest gay guy I can find.
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