What dreams may come

Several months ago, I published a brief dream about J. I received quite a bit of ribbing, and I've been somewhat gun-shy since.

Regardless, I've had two other blog-induced dreams to date. They are both a bit fuzzy now. But people, if you didn't give me shit the first time around, I might have been more willing to share immediately after the fact.

I think that I've absolved myself, and I put the onus of weidro truth upon you, reader, to prove to me that I'm crazy.

Anyhow...

Dream one:

I am hanging out in my bedroom at my parent's house. My mom comes to the door to tell me that I have a visitor. It's Sean, from Insight. He jumps up onto my bed and starts to play with a Rubik's Cube.

Several minutes later, J shows up. He sits with Sean on the bed, opposite me on the couch. We decide that this is indeed a sausage fest, and that we need to go elsewhere.

(Dream-sequence cut scene.)

We are at a party, and all of my blogger friends are there. Reese is shaking on the dance platform, Squishi is making drinks, Yawn is in a corner playing with fire... everyone is there and having a good time. (Fuzz-out.)

Dream Two:

My friend Mike and I are hanging out when we realize that we are late for something. We drive around town before remembering that we were supposed to meet Kaci and her husband at their house to watch the kids. Strangely, Kaci and Porter don't go out for a night on the town but disappear behind, and lock, the bedroom door. I wonder what they were doing back there? (Fuzz-out.)


Pin your hangups on me; I expect them. But how can I defend my subconscious brain? Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Sometimes babysitting leads to sex. What can I say?

I tell you what, though. If the Sucias can have a Blog-a-thon, we need to do the same thing. I propose that we meet in Vegas, or some mutually middle-ground location so that we can meet eachother in person. It would be interesting, to say the least. Moreso, perhaps, I could stop dreaming about the silly blog-people that live only on my screen, and who infect my otherwise chaste and god-fearing dreams.
(Fuzz-out.)