Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Apparently now only Frank Sinatra understands me. Alas, he's dead.

In last night's dream, I was reunited with an old boyfriend. I ran into him innocently enough. I was accompanying a female acquaintance (didn't know her well and can't recall if she was a coworker or a client) retrieve her coat from the stereotypical Chicago steakhouse where we had just dined. Seems he now lives above it. (In real life he's a corporate VP and lives in New York, but never mind.)

I bid adieu to the woman and went up to his studio apartment. I don't know why he lived here. As a matter of fact, I didn't even seem surprised he was living here.

I was completely thrilled to see him again and we started making love. I interrupted the action to go to the bathroom. I returned to bed (the only piece of furniture big enough for two) and we resumed. I then heard someone on the other side of wall, making a lot of noise, as though to let us know he was there.

My once/future lover got up and opened the door to the adjoining room and there was a young Frank Sinatra. He seemed to sense that I'd be embarrassed to know that there was a man right there who could hear me sighing and oohing and ahhing. He was right.

Then I woke up.

Back to

Dreaming that I was in a restaurant means I feel "overwhelmed by decisions/choices" or am "seeking for emotional nourishment outside of your social support system."

Ex sex denotes my reservations about "embarking in a new relationship" or "exposing" myself and my feelings again.

No word on the significance of the young Sinatra.

You know, I go weeks without remembering any dreams at all.

I had Chips Ahoy cookies and milk before bed. It seemed wholesome enough at the time …

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous9:01 PM

    Just wanted to tell you how much I enjoy reading your blog! I usually catch up on several posts at once - I get a nice dose of your "musings" that way.

    Regards, BookMama