All dreams are strange in one way or another, but last night was really out there, really . . .
I don’t have a clear recollection of events so much as a lasting impression of weirdness. I remember Spain, my friend Laura and her family, my coworkers – the new hires, well not so new anymore – and of course, him.
Most of my dreams are about him now, well they are not about him but about me and my thoughts of him.
Him sitting in a white plastic chair on the garden, wearing shorts and a t-shirt, laughing, looking at me and smiling. Also, and here is the weirdest thing of them all he was making obscene gestures with his hand; followed by an explanation of how he used the expression “exotic kiss” to mean a fellatio.
I also remember his legs, his long, thin legs.
So, I’ll have to . . . meditate on that last one.