Shaking My Fist at a Disturbed Dream State


Certainly this has happened to you, and I’ve already documented the details of it in my livejournal,

But tell me: ever have a delicious, racy, sexy, hot hot hot dream only to be awakened in the middle of, oh, I don’t know, say sweaty sex with a famous New Yorker that you’ve long admired, and then after catching your breath and glancing around, you close your eyes right away trying to get back into the dream right where you left off, only to find that now you’re dreaming of going to church with your parents, wearing only a white terrycloth robe?

Sucks, eh?

Oh man, I hate that.

I’m about to bed the woman of my dreams when suddenly, without warning, I’m back in my bed staring at the ceiling. Nine times out of ten, the blinds rattling in the wind is responsible for waking me up. Kinda strange that my fixing the blinds will improve my sex life, no?

BTW, waking up in the middle of a great sex dream is not nearly as bad as having your psyche play little jokes on you. Like ferinstance, having that Pam Anderson lookalike suddenly turn into one of the decaying zombies from Night of the Living Dead is a common trick that my brain plays on me. I retaliate by doing straight Jim Beam shots until I can’t talk anymore.