21st Century Boy

Home movies? Sure I've made a few. And you might still be able to see them on male friends websites.

This upcoming lateral move has vines of communication flying everywhere, all day, from A to Zipline.

And I guess because of this I've been remembering dreams.

I dozed off for an hour and dreamt I was in a hotel room. A beautiful woman had set up a guy to come by, he and I were going to have sex and she was going to film it.

He shows up, and the second he walked through the door he's pulling his shirt over his head, grabs me and we're very quickly circling towards the bed, as in dancing. Twirling.

"This isn't a dance video, guys." The woman jokingly says.

The guy and I get to the bed, I'm sitting on top of him, starting to take off my clothes, the guy is lounging underneath me, staring up at me, entwines his fingers behind his head and softly romantically says, "You have very pretty eyes."

Once he says this I suddenly lost interest in the shoot.

This has to be gritty, edgy, hot, like we're never going to see each other ever again (kind of thing) or else I'm just not into it.

But he won't shut up.

Instead he starts stroking my abdominal area and says in the same soft milky voice, "And your skin is like silk."

I get off of him, stand up, and give the woman filming us a dirty look.

The woman puts the camera down and silently motions to the guy like, "What are you doing?"

Wrapping his head back into the film he and I start up again, kissing, pulling on each other, and for whatever reason the guy starts massaging my ribcage like he's a 200 pound German woman (and I make this comparison because after a car accent many years ago resulting in temporary spinal injury, the insurance company sent me to a physical therapist who happened to be a 200 pound German woman who's understanding of deep tissue massage meant bruising all my internal organs through my rib cage without piercing skin!)

And that's what this guy was doing.

That was it. I had enough. I got up and started to dress.

 

"You're a pretty girl but I can see you're going to be a lot of work." the guy says.

 

"What the hell are you talking about?" I yell back at the guy. 

 

"I'm out of here." I tell the woman.

"No! No! Wait! Don't go, I'll get another guy! A better guy!" the woman said.

But it was too late. I got dressed, left the hotel room. The woman chased after me insisting she has better guys. "What do you like? Blonde? Brunette? Tall?  Short? Whatever you want!"

And then as if she had a sudden epiphany blurts out, "What about my husband? You guys get along. You like him. He likes you."

 

I stop walking.

"You want me to have sex with your husband on film? That's just weird." I replied.

-- And then I woke up.

Apparently my sub consciousness and consciousness have not met. Or maybe they've met once too many times? Either way the dream freaked me out.

For about 10 minutes.

 

 

Like my friend says, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas... usually."