Robert (Bro. Pepper-spray of Reasoned Discussion) (montecristo) wrote,
Robert (Bro. Pepper-spray of Reasoned Discussion)
montecristo

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Star Wars, Kissing Banditry, and Dreams

I took Shannon to see Star Wars: Episode III on Sunday. She didn't like where the story went, and cried buckets. She's inherited theater leakage from her mother, heh heh. The ex-wife used to accuse me of making fun of her when I would laugh when she was doing that. The thing is, I wasn't making fun of her. I'm just not much of a theater leaker, myself. It's happened a few times, I must admit. It happens more often when I am in certain mood states and hear certain music, but usually I don't water up at things. Hey, I have the Y-chromosome reputation to uphold. At any rate, I used to watch a movie and notice the way the plot was unfolding and make little bets with myself over whether the spouse would be crying at a particular scene. Then I'd look over at her and confirm my supposition. In that regard, she was very easy to read. I was almost never ever wrong. It always made me smile and laugh, my ability to know her well enough to predict such episodes. I wasn't making fun of her. I found her sensitivity touching and was charmed by it, but other aspects of our communication left her unwilling to believe that simple truth, which was as much my fault as hers. Ah well, that's in a galaxy far, far away, now.

Apparently, the movie infected my dreaming with its scene/motif this morning. I had another dream I can remember again, but it was terribly short, and given it's content, disappointingly so. If I were a Freudian, I'd suspect that my subconscious libido was putting the smack on my tyrannous super-ego with a club of sensations and imagery. It seems to be a running pattern/theme in my dreaming. It was lucid, which are the kind I remember most often. I know when I am in one of those because I am pulling sensory information on all five channels. Other dreams, which I seldom remember on waking, are usually just auditory and visual and usually less coherent.

She Blinded Me With Science Fiction

I am riding in something which looks like a land speeder from Tatooine. A friend/ally of mine is driving, although he is a 'friend stock-character' and not someone I know outside of the dream. The setting is a desert-like, Middle Eastern-feeling town, like Mos Eisley, on Tatooine from the move, and we are dressed in a fashion similar to that locale. It is there that similarity to the movie ends though. There are no storm troopers, blasters, lightsabers, droids, or "Jedi mind tricks" in evidence.

We pull up to a five story building, whose facade is stucco or sandstone, get out of the vehicle and go inside. The building is like some kind of combination warehouse and library. There are lots of tables and chairs, sparsely populated by humans and aliens, most seemingly engrossed in study, or quiet conversation in groups of two or three. Surrounding this "reading area" are what appear to be some sort of library stacks, although the ten-foot high shelves do not contain books, but rather oddly-shaped polyhedron-like objects which I know to contain various data. This gives the library the look of an auto-parts warehouse. The light coming through the few windows is dim, but not dark, and the artificial lighting is also very low, for a library.

My friend and I are here to discuss the recovery of an object from my house. We must be stealthy, as our antagonists would attempt to stop us if they were aware of our plan, and we are certain "they" are watching my house. We sit down at a table to plot, and I pull an icosahedron, similar to a 20-sided die but a bit bigger than my fist, out of a pouch on my belt. It is similar to the data-polyhedrons on the shelves, and it glows with a dim, warm, yellow light. I'm not sure of its significance, or why I am carrying it, but perhaps it has useful information inside.

At this time, I look up, and I notice that a woman, whom I do recognize from the waking world, is looking at us. When I catch her gaze, she turns away nonchalantly and proceeds to one of the shelves and climbs up a ladder into the shadows among the upper reaches of the stacks. Nobody is supposed to know we are here. I sense trouble, but I am curious. I tell my friend to wait here at the table, and to leave if trouble starts, and I get up and walk over to the opposite side of the shelf row from the woman and climb a ladder on my side, the polyhedron still in my hand. We stand on opposite sides of the "bookcase" looking across the top of the shelves at one another. There are no data-polyhedrons on the top here. She leans in toward me and begins to whisper, very quietly, and I lean in toward her until I feel her breath on my face. I smell faint perfume, and dust. "You're not half so clever as you think you're being," she says.

"What are you doing here, and what do you know?" I counter. She leans in and kisses me. Holy Shazam, that's nice! Her lips are deliciously warm and soft and there is a sweet taste to them. It is at this point that one usually wakes up to find a pet licking one's face -- fortunately, I don't have one. I suspect that her intention is to make it quick, because I feel her pulling away. I quickly drop the polyhedron on the shelf and reach behind her head to keep her from pulling away, and kiss her back. Whee! I'm getting a head-rush -- yes, er, both of them. I'd forgotten how nice that feels, but part of me still remembers.

When the lip-lock finally breaks, she smiles at me, mischievously. "You know," she whispers, and snatches up the polyhedron and jumps to the ground.

"Hey!" I yell...and I wake up.

Tags: dreams, sex
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