So I woke up this morning feeling a little unsettled, a little tense. As I made my lunch, I grabbed a peach out of the fridge and got one of those mental flashcard memories… a peach left behind in last night’s dream, because I was busy…snuggling and kissing…with, no! It couldn’t be!
But it was. As I hung my head in shame, the memory solidified and I recalled my dream in all it’s disturbing glory. Last night I, a red-blooded American girl, made out with Saddam Hussein. :o
How flipping insane is that!? I’m a traitor! I’m a freak!
I’m also a little icked because, well–ewwwww—he’s at least thirty years older than me and really not my type. (I need an “about to puke” smiley)
So I’m distressed, understandably. I can’t be alone though, right? Surely there must be other people who’ve had dreamtime dalliances with less-than-ideal partners? Right…?