Dream Journal

Men Are Dogs (title taken from next day’s dream)

Welp… no getting around this one being weird: I was presented with a humorously-intended blowjob voucher from my old crush, while sitting in my own living room. In front of my wife no less. Not exactly a bad dream. Let’s just say I won’t be surprised if nothing comes of it though.

My Uncle Robert and Aunt Carol have a long, sloping, grassy field through the forests. A Pacific Northwest vibe. The grass is so tall (and wet) in places a full-grown man can hide in it. Taking a narrow tree-lined canyon path off from it, Lynae (to a small group) sketches out on a whiteboard her idea of a baseball score-keeping concept. Columns of Team A / Team B, a simple but useful discursion.

A bartender at a restaurant, perhaps a company cafeteria, gives me my change as flecks of gold suspended in a glass of water. I try to transport it outside by holding it in my mouth without much success. Coming back to my motorbike, I see that I’ve left my phone on it in plain view, on top of my jacket no less.

The store I was planning to go to has closed while I was inside the restaurant. Soon I do some super-high jumps on my scooter, front flips even, but the bike will still be fucked when I land.