Dreamtime, 2022
I haven't had one f these dreams in a while, the Make-Believe-Friend dream, he kind of dream that cobbles together a bunch of aspects fro differfent people in the real-world, into a single amalgam. I had them frequently when Crosby was younger. I don't thnk I had them at all during the pandemic. And, certainly not since I started raising fish.
It may have been prompted by a series of adventures into the outside world, including a first since forever trip to a movie theater with Pale Male and Trini to see, "Nope" and my once a year pilgrimage to the East Village to visit Anthony.
The latter trip was very enlightening as it took place on a Sunday at one of the Village churches, a Protestant one in keeping with Anthony's quest for Ecumeniicism. The newly installed Rector was a screen-star version of the young priest, the type that has been popular ever since Bing Crosby (the actor - not the avatar) invented it in "Going My Way" about 80 years ago.
I doubt if this particular priest is more than thirty-five years of age and how he came to become the rector of this tiny Greenwich Village congregation, is worth an on-demand streaming series of its own. The very first thing I noticed about him was the absence of a ring on his wedding finger.
He's likable enough. Straight. Built like a jock. But he's been "the cutest guy in the room" all of his life and he fends off gay guys like we were water off a duck's back.
I'm not sure where Father Park fit into my dream last night except that the amalgam had dark hair and dark eyes. But he also had Crosby's sense of mischief (which I have sorely missed these past few years) and Anthony's quirky, white guy non-conformism.
The dream began as they often do, at a social gathering. It could have been church-connected. The conceit was that this amalgam of all my male fantasies had, in fact, known each other me for years and like my day-trip with Anthony, this was a special occasion for both of us. It gave me the opportunity to appreciate just how oddly charming he was; the way his eyes betrayed every thought that entered his head; the loose-limbed - almost "spastic" - way he had of usig his hands when he talked. He was a "guy's guy" and yet something about him set him apart. Something about him made me attractive or friend-worthy in his eyes.
I thnk we went somewhere after the social gathering where he had to change his clothes. I have the feeling that I saw him shirtless. But that was the extent of the intimacy between us. It was a chaste relationship as fantasies go. I woke up feeling like I'd had a good visit with an old friend.
It may have been prompted by a series of adventures into the outside world, including a first since forever trip to a movie theater with Pale Male and Trini to see, "Nope" and my once a year pilgrimage to the East Village to visit Anthony.
The latter trip was very enlightening as it took place on a Sunday at one of the Village churches, a Protestant one in keeping with Anthony's quest for Ecumeniicism. The newly installed Rector was a screen-star version of the young priest, the type that has been popular ever since Bing Crosby (the actor - not the avatar) invented it in "Going My Way" about 80 years ago.
I doubt if this particular priest is more than thirty-five years of age and how he came to become the rector of this tiny Greenwich Village congregation, is worth an on-demand streaming series of its own. The very first thing I noticed about him was the absence of a ring on his wedding finger.
He's likable enough. Straight. Built like a jock. But he's been "the cutest guy in the room" all of his life and he fends off gay guys like we were water off a duck's back.
I'm not sure where Father Park fit into my dream last night except that the amalgam had dark hair and dark eyes. But he also had Crosby's sense of mischief (which I have sorely missed these past few years) and Anthony's quirky, white guy non-conformism.
The dream began as they often do, at a social gathering. It could have been church-connected. The conceit was that this amalgam of all my male fantasies had, in fact, known each other me for years and like my day-trip with Anthony, this was a special occasion for both of us. It gave me the opportunity to appreciate just how oddly charming he was; the way his eyes betrayed every thought that entered his head; the loose-limbed - almost "spastic" - way he had of usig his hands when he talked. He was a "guy's guy" and yet something about him set him apart. Something about him made me attractive or friend-worthy in his eyes.
I thnk we went somewhere after the social gathering where he had to change his clothes. I have the feeling that I saw him shirtless. But that was the extent of the intimacy between us. It was a chaste relationship as fantasies go. I woke up feeling like I'd had a good visit with an old friend.