No rose petals

I didn’t put any rose petals under my pillow last night. In fact, I was feeling blue when I came in from hanging out with my dad and his friend (long, hard work week) at a local watering hole at around 10:30 last night so I ended up sleeping on the couch with the TV set to sleep mode. Whenever I feel lonely and sad, I sleep on the couch with the TV on sleep mode. It just seems like the distraction of some movie or show babbling in the background as I fall asleep provides me an escape from my thoughts. From having to face myself.

I had this incredibly vivid dream. In it, I was living in some apartment or condo somewhere. One of my neighbors was this really good looking guy. Not someone I’d normally go for either–he was tall and distinctly attractive in the way that says “pretty boy.” You know, the type of guy I’m normally turned off by because they look too good. The kind of boy who usually looks at me and thinks I’m ugly. I usually don’t go for tall guys either. I like to look my lover in the eye. I prefer men who are only slightly taller than me. I guess this probably makes a lot of short guys happy–alas, a woman who is attracted to shorter guys. Here’s some more exciting news in the realm of men who feel like women don’t like them do to some feature–I also find myself attracted to balding men. Thus, my husband Mike who was both short (5’8″) and balding.

Anyway, the guy in this dream was neither short nor balding. He was quite preppy looking and he had facial hair (I usually detest facial hair on a guy). He was taller than me by a good foot. I think my head touched the upper part of his (athletically toned) chest so that I would have to look up to kiss him. Totally not the type of guy I go for.

In this dream, I tried desperately not to like this guy. I tried to resist my interest in him. But I kept finding myself talking to him. Finding ways to touch his hand. It reminded me, even in my dream like state, of the weird magnetism I felt for Mike. The guy in my dream was the anti-Mike, but I was attracted to him.

I guess there’s something sexy about wanting something forbidden. For some reason or other, in this dream, our being together was some kind of taboo. We weren’t supposed to be together. We had to try desperately to ignore each other. I don’t know what it is about why we weren’t supposed to be together, why decorum called for us to ignore our mutual interest. It could not be simply because we were neighbors. What’s wrong with dating a neighbor?

The ending scene of my dream, right before I woke up, we took each other in this huge embrace. It was like the moment in a romantic movie where the couple says, “World be damned, we’re in love. And it’s not wrong. And we don’t care what you think.” It was cathartic.

Swear to God, there was nothing x-rated about this dream. It was harmless flirting. An almost teenage passion. It was completely ridiculous.

And yet the dream has bothered me all day. Had I put rose petals under my pillow last night, I’d be superstitiously inclined to think that I’d dreamed of my future husband. Right?

I guess this dream just means I’m ready for real love or something.

Or maybe that I’m having trouble getting over a relationship in which the two people involved should never have gotten together due to some big taboo. Maybe my dream is trying to tell me that star-crossed love really is star-crossed. Avoid the men who defy your normal dating parameters.

Or perhaps I shouldn’t eat the beef chili at Whitey’s and put all that Tabasco sauce in it that I did. Obnoxious food plus three glasses of Great Lakes Oktoberfest yields really weird dreams.

I really hate it when nocturnal meanderings of the mind bleed over into your day. It was even worse to be tortured with dreams of love just when I thought I was strong enough not to care.

I don’t know. It was a long night. And a long day. The mind is so cruel.


2 thoughts on “No rose petals

  1. I'm no dream interpreter, but I totally hear ya on the whole falling asleep to the tv thing! There are some nights (nights of worry, stress, depression…etc) when only the lull of the tv will put my mind to sleep.

  2. It also makes one feel less alone. And, of course, it's distracting. If I fall asleep watching some show I like (ie, Frasier or Sex and the City in syndication), it's like having a familiar friend in the room. Perhaps that's kind of sick… dysfunctional… I shouldnt rely on tv so much. But I cant read a book when I'm emotionally distressed… I wont concentrate on the words… TVs are so effortless. I know all the technopobes have deemed me proof of the evilness of TV. ;)

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