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[majinaraparticl]

So I dreamed that I was with my somewhat tomboyish girlfriend in a hotel lobby. Tall dark green potted plants in corners, thick red carpet dampening every sound. We were waiting in a line in front of the reception desk, standing there next to each other, not talking, connected by love and trust and affection. One person was waiting in front of us, wearing a badly sitting blonde short tousled wig. Then I noticed that the person in front of us was John Oliver. Imagine my surprise, I got quite excited, saying to my gf "It's John Oliver! What for a coincidence! Isn't that awesome?". She was a bit embarrassed by my behaviour and tried to quiet me down. John noticed us, turned around, and as we made such a cute couple and seemed so nice, he invited us to his show that would take place in that very hotels conference room that very evening. We walked with him through the one or other corridor of the hotel, and I was in a good mood. We three talked, I made some witty comment, absolute love and affection radiating from me and my partner. We then arrived in a huge auditorium of sorts. The room was packed with people talking in hushed voices, sitting in the dark, as only the small far away stage was lit. John excused himself, and so we went to a couple of free places in one of the back rows and sat down there. Then the event began. It was some sort of scientific symposium. There was no Oliver to be seen, but I had forgotten about him by then. I sat there in the darkness, leaning against my gf, following the discussion, which seemed to be about an interesting subject (maybe about finding the cure for a disease, or gene manipulation of plants). The darkness, the comfy chairs and the warm temperatures made me drowsy quite quickly, and I noticed myself falling asleep. Then I did actually fall asleep, in the dream, woke up again, and noticed that I had by now my head resting on my gf's then impressive bosom. She was the same person, but in different shape. No longer lean and sinewy, but rather curvy and voluptuous. I wondered whether she was wearing a corset or something, the way her boobs offered such a nice resting place for my head. She didn't mind, was focusing entirely on the discussion going on. On the one hand I was just so very tired and sleepy and cuddly and could have slept on, on the other I worried what the people might think, and that I should better try to pay some attention.

I woke up, 8:15 in the morning, still embraced by a feeling of closeness and affection, but those were fading quickly, transforming into a faint memory.