The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
In that grey zone between sleep and awareness, I'm most likely to do anything. I can't count the times I came to my senses, flushed and sweaty, only to find out it was a dream. Then there are the times it wasn't. Not sure what's worse really.
I was reading a detective story but got bored after a few pages. That's when you came and laid down behind me. You always do that when I want you to the most. Reading over my shoulder, pretending to be interested. You make me laugh at least. I mentioned how good you smelled and you shrugged it off. Then admitting it was only a shower and some aftershave, oh yeah and you hadn't smoked that day. Very stealthy. Your cuteness is impeccable and your concern is overwhelming. As a result I kept perfectly still, my mouth inches from yours, and sometimes I fear those are the moments in which I truly sparkle. I'm not looking forward to the day I have to face God and tell him my only accomplishment on earth was seducing the wrong people. Hopefully I'll have some time to work on my answer, he might even be retired by then. So I fell asleep.
I dreamt my own detective story. The murder was committed and the hero was on the case. I was merely an observer. But even though I arrived in the middle, I knew the beginning and I knew the end. I knew who had done it. We were at a garden party on a beautiful summer day and it wasn't until I pointed out the creepy looking guy with the rifle the detective had a breakthrough. Quite the brainiac in other words. Then there was this big police hunt and I got shot. It wasn't painful, all I felt was the wet stickiness of blood. Waking up from naps is much worse than waking up in the morning. You're completely disoriented and all sorts of crazy thoughts make sense. I started comparing this fraction of a dream to sex. I figured you don't really need to know the beginning and the end to enjoy the middle. The beginning is predictable to tears and the end will only end in tears and that leaves us with the middle, the act itself. Now I don't know what the hell I was on about. The middle section is the most boring, predicable one of all. I'm rather fond of beginnings myself.
I must have dozed off again. I am absolutely spineless and that's why the few naps I take last for hours. I'm trying to be accurate here but this part is the hard one. I remember calling you perfect but I don't remember moving so it must have been to your face. I could swear it was not. It's not about finding the right words. If you kiss me I will kiss back. In those moments, if you run your hand down my body to test how much I want you, you will find what you are looking for. You should know me better than that.
I wasn't going to post this because every time I go to this site I'm reminded of how much you all annoy me. But I can't keep locking posts for only Jonny to read either so I figured I would annoy you back.
p.s. J, I chickened out. It happens.
I was reading a detective story but got bored after a few pages. That's when you came and laid down behind me. You always do that when I want you to the most. Reading over my shoulder, pretending to be interested. You make me laugh at least. I mentioned how good you smelled and you shrugged it off. Then admitting it was only a shower and some aftershave, oh yeah and you hadn't smoked that day. Very stealthy. Your cuteness is impeccable and your concern is overwhelming. As a result I kept perfectly still, my mouth inches from yours, and sometimes I fear those are the moments in which I truly sparkle. I'm not looking forward to the day I have to face God and tell him my only accomplishment on earth was seducing the wrong people. Hopefully I'll have some time to work on my answer, he might even be retired by then. So I fell asleep.
I dreamt my own detective story. The murder was committed and the hero was on the case. I was merely an observer. But even though I arrived in the middle, I knew the beginning and I knew the end. I knew who had done it. We were at a garden party on a beautiful summer day and it wasn't until I pointed out the creepy looking guy with the rifle the detective had a breakthrough. Quite the brainiac in other words. Then there was this big police hunt and I got shot. It wasn't painful, all I felt was the wet stickiness of blood. Waking up from naps is much worse than waking up in the morning. You're completely disoriented and all sorts of crazy thoughts make sense. I started comparing this fraction of a dream to sex. I figured you don't really need to know the beginning and the end to enjoy the middle. The beginning is predictable to tears and the end will only end in tears and that leaves us with the middle, the act itself. Now I don't know what the hell I was on about. The middle section is the most boring, predicable one of all. I'm rather fond of beginnings myself.
I must have dozed off again. I am absolutely spineless and that's why the few naps I take last for hours. I'm trying to be accurate here but this part is the hard one. I remember calling you perfect but I don't remember moving so it must have been to your face. I could swear it was not. It's not about finding the right words. If you kiss me I will kiss back. In those moments, if you run your hand down my body to test how much I want you, you will find what you are looking for. You should know me better than that.
I wasn't going to post this because every time I go to this site I'm reminded of how much you all annoy me. But I can't keep locking posts for only Jonny to read either so I figured I would annoy you back.
p.s. J, I chickened out. It happens.