What Does That Mean?

I dreamed about blogging for the first time last night (or the night before - I just remembered the dream a minute ago but can't remember when it actually was).  In the dream, the template had gotten fucked up so that the post titles and the dates and times had all disappeared, but the text remained.  And I didn't care enough to want to try to fix it. 

I haven't actually dreamed about the act of blogging, so count me as less of a geek than some. 

Other recent dreams:

I'm driving around Philadelphia in incredibly dense fog.  I am going somewhere, but am considering cancelling the visit because it's just too dangerous to drive.  Then I drive up onto the South Street bridge, which has a little elevation, and emerge into a clear, blue sky; the fog only extends a few feet off the ground.  The sun is coming up, and I realize that if I wait a little longer, the fog will burn off.

I am traveling around the various countries that my ancestors are from.  I am traveling with my brothers, but somehow I manage to be first in getting to each new place, and this pleases me.  In one vivid scene, I am on a balcony or walkway on the second floor of this rustic building in a rural area and I see my brother Doug approaching, so I greet him mockingly for getting there after me.  Then the scene changes and I am talking to this little man who is a cross between a leprechaun and a holocaust survivor.  (I have ancestors from both Ireland and Dachau, Germany.)  Apparently this little guy keep trying to break into the local holocaust museum and stealing the clothing on display because, he says, "It's mine and I want it back."  In this particular scene, a local burgher/watchman has apprehended the little guy and is recovering the striped prisoner uniform he's taken this time.  The stripes are faded green and orange. 

I am accompanying a dissident/trade unionist who is in the process of trying to overthrow a tyrannical government.  He is very calm, zen-like, and is riding a bicycle toward the seat of government power.  He reminds me of my dad in many ways except that my dad was never calm, zen-like, never tried to overthrow tyranny, and never rode a bicycle.  Maybe it's just because he's little and neat and rides the bicycle with an economy of motion, like an athlete.  The dissident/trade union guy isn't sure he will be successful, but he's not worried about it because success is an illusion.  In our conversation, he tells me, "Do what you want."  This has two levels of meaning for me.  One, choose to get involved with things you are interested in.  Two, when prioritizing your time, put the thing you're interested in high on the list.  He pedals into the town, which looks a lot like the university town where I went to college.  Then I am talking to someone on the sidewalk, and this female campus cop comes up behind me and presses herself against me, provocatively.  She wants to touch me but doesn't want me to see her either because she's embarrassed by her desire or she doesn't think she's attractive enough because she's overweight.  Then the scene changes and I am behind her, pinning her down and bent over a hard, polished surface like a dining room table.  I am rubbing myself against her and with my mouth next to her ear am telling her all the things I am going to do to her - shove my cock down her throat, fuck her up the ass - and she is so turned on by what I am saying and doing she drools a little on the table.  Then she licks it up.

Not very subtle, my dreams, but lots of interesting imagery.

Comments

[Julie]

An Oedipal coming of age? Your father has given you permission to have the woman you want...and she wants it too. You are the king of the world now!

[bitchphd]

I must formally object to you posting even thumbnail synopses of your sex dreams on your blog, as I think this posting caused *me* to have a very strange dream about *you* last night.

[Mithras]

And by "strange", you mean ...?

[bitchphd]

By "strange" I mean "I am not going to go into details."