I've met the woman of my dreams.

You might be learning more than you need to about me, but this is very cathartic. Bare with me only if you choose to.


I rarely recall my dreams. Last night I remembered my dream, and I have little doubt to its meaning. My dreams are usually disconnected and surreal, like a barrage of video clips directed by Salvatore Dali. Strangely enough, the ones I recall are sometimes connected. I've observed deja vu in the dreamworld (such as walking down the a street you've been down before, yet you vaguely recall it, because you were lost the first time --or seeing something very specific that you left in a very specific place)* many real years apart--too far apart to consciously remember. I often wonder if the dreamworld is anything less than a completely alternate reality. Anyone who believes that humanity is all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively would have a hard time believing otherwise.

I was with some friends, none of which I can clearly recall, at some very swanky club. The women were very exotic and would probably represent the archetype of beauty. Everything was flooded in a silvery-blue --a hue that I suppose people in marketing might use to give an aura of mystique, sophistication, perfection....in other words, this was the pinnacle of the female homo sapien.

This club had several floors, and I think there was some protocol where women would approach men and woo them from their group to another floor. I don't understand it, my dreams just have their way of constructing rules & boundaries with perfect lucidity but with infinite subtlety.

On many occasions, my table's conversation was interrupted by women attempting to lure me away. Again--exotic, perfectly proportioned temptresses using some kind of code word which was supposed to summon
me off to another floor. Each occasion, I was painfully blas about these come-ons and reluctant to leave with, well; The Women of my Dreams. I ended up succumbing shortly to a pair of Brazilians, but promptly left for the table of my friends.

Later I ended up leaving with my friends, and then I woke up to get up and pee.

What does this mean? I'm painfully indecisive about my needs, completely without comprehension of traits that I would find desireable in my perfect partner. And moreover, I'm unwilling to leave my circle of comfort to figure out what the hell I want in relationships and in life. And I'm probably -at this point anyways- completely without the gumption to change things.

I really begin to wonder if I'm going to understand what action I need to take if Miss Right crosses my path, or if I'll just fuck everything up. And I might even let her pass, completely passive under a thick veneer of falsified "coolness." Perhaps the prospect of this can push me to absolution.

Or perhaps I was in the wrong club.