Another Dream, Another Meme III
Either I am dreaming more or just waking up more often. In any event, I seem to be developing new streams of thought that don't fit into any of my normal dreamscape storylines. For example last night, I had two different dreaming episodes about two or three hours apart that struck me as rather new.
The first one took place in an apartment somewhere in New York City and involved total strangers attempting what back in the Stone Age of my youth would have been considered propositioning each other. It was a kind of high stakes speed dating where each couple used anything that was at their disposal to keep up a conversation with the other person for five minutes or less, but, with an object toward getting romantically entwined with each other.
They were all in their late twenties and thirties, well-educated and nicely turned out (far more dressy than anyone would be for a St. Michael's Sunday service, for instance) and totally unfamiliar to anyone I knew in real life.
It was remarkably difficult to actually "score" in the conventional sense of the word. This, despite the fact that most of the conversations took place in extremely close quarters, like broom closets and shower stalls and such. I felt successful just being able to break the ice and keep up my end of the conversation for the allotted five minutes. Perhaps, it had to do with the fact that I was mostly being paired up with heterosexual women, ("Duh!"), but, one would have to have been truly horny as hell to really make it to "first base" under the circumstances.
End of dream.
The other dream which took place in the traditional time slot reserved for my last dream of the sleep cycle - shortly before dawn - involved my RC co-counselor, Sumner. It was one of the few instances where I can recall dreaming about an actual person this year (I think Crosby qualifies as the only other one.) This may have been an outgrowth of the Middle Class Support Group that met at my house the other day, the first time I have hosted an event since maybe forever. Sumner was there and was absolutely essential in calming my nerves and giving me a session in the middle of it.
In the dream, the conceit was that he was visiting me at Mommyland, in Queens. We were just hanging out with each other (which in real life, would have been a violation of the RC Guidelines) when I got the sudden urge to introduce him to Mom who, for all intents and purposes, was alive and well.
I brought Sumner inside the house and managed to locate Mom and bring the two of them into the same room. I remember having difficulty remembering Sumner's real name and sort of using the name "John" in place of it. I was also quite cognizant of the fact that Mom, though not entirely dead, was present on a highly contingent basis and could vanish at any moment. And, while she did follow me into the room where Sumner was standing, she did not speak to him and I'm almost certain did not shake his hand or touch him in any manner. She merely glanced at him, then turned to go back up the stairs where she had come from.
I remember being a little disappointed that she and Sumner did not make a greater connection with each other, but also thinking how well she looked otherwise. She looked exactly as she did when she was maybe sixty or seventy years old.
The first one took place in an apartment somewhere in New York City and involved total strangers attempting what back in the Stone Age of my youth would have been considered propositioning each other. It was a kind of high stakes speed dating where each couple used anything that was at their disposal to keep up a conversation with the other person for five minutes or less, but, with an object toward getting romantically entwined with each other.
They were all in their late twenties and thirties, well-educated and nicely turned out (far more dressy than anyone would be for a St. Michael's Sunday service, for instance) and totally unfamiliar to anyone I knew in real life.
It was remarkably difficult to actually "score" in the conventional sense of the word. This, despite the fact that most of the conversations took place in extremely close quarters, like broom closets and shower stalls and such. I felt successful just being able to break the ice and keep up my end of the conversation for the allotted five minutes. Perhaps, it had to do with the fact that I was mostly being paired up with heterosexual women, ("Duh!"), but, one would have to have been truly horny as hell to really make it to "first base" under the circumstances.
End of dream.
The other dream which took place in the traditional time slot reserved for my last dream of the sleep cycle - shortly before dawn - involved my RC co-counselor, Sumner. It was one of the few instances where I can recall dreaming about an actual person this year (I think Crosby qualifies as the only other one.) This may have been an outgrowth of the Middle Class Support Group that met at my house the other day, the first time I have hosted an event since maybe forever. Sumner was there and was absolutely essential in calming my nerves and giving me a session in the middle of it.
In the dream, the conceit was that he was visiting me at Mommyland, in Queens. We were just hanging out with each other (which in real life, would have been a violation of the RC Guidelines) when I got the sudden urge to introduce him to Mom who, for all intents and purposes, was alive and well.
I brought Sumner inside the house and managed to locate Mom and bring the two of them into the same room. I remember having difficulty remembering Sumner's real name and sort of using the name "John" in place of it. I was also quite cognizant of the fact that Mom, though not entirely dead, was present on a highly contingent basis and could vanish at any moment. And, while she did follow me into the room where Sumner was standing, she did not speak to him and I'm almost certain did not shake his hand or touch him in any manner. She merely glanced at him, then turned to go back up the stairs where she had come from.
I remember being a little disappointed that she and Sumner did not make a greater connection with each other, but also thinking how well she looked otherwise. She looked exactly as she did when she was maybe sixty or seventy years old.