Dreams and such

Last night I dreamt about The Date in lingerie.

It's not quite as sordid as it seems.

I was in my apartment and I answered the door. The Date walked in wearing nothing but a generic white T-shirt (look who we've got our Hanes on now!). She seemed perfectly okay with the fact that she was pantless in the outdoors. I was dressed similarly, but indoors. I live alone. I can do whatever I want.

We were then outside, near a white farmhouse, sitting at a picnic table and The Date started putting on clothes. The Date is butch and probably wears boxers or something similar, but in my dream, she put on beautiful lavender lace boy-leg panties. And then she reached for a lacy white camisole. She put on some other articles of lace finery that I don't quite remember. I just recall lots of layers. And then she sat next to me at the picnic table and when I turned to look at her, I saw that she was wearing makeup and looked very pretty but definitely far more "chick-ish" than the butch hottie I know. She was sort of shiny and pastel-y and it was all very surreal. I was saddened by the fact that I wasn't attracted to her. And then her role in The Dream was done.

Speaking of The Date, we have talked on the phone a few times. It has been good to hear her voice. I know that I could really get screwed if I'm not careful. But, as I reasoned to myself after hanging up the phone last night, we're just talking. Not dating, not making out, not making or falling in love, not walking around pantless. Talking. I can handle talking.

That said, I felt my heart swell and beat with a different kind of vigor after we hung up and that's when the "this could be really bad" thoughts crept in. I pulled up to my apartment, turned off the car, and listened to Dido sing "Thank You" a second time as it started to rain. (It was a cheesy poetic moment, but I embraced it thoroughly nonetheless.) Some children walked by my car as I was singing and just stared at me as they walked by and I thought, "Some day, kids, you will understand why grrls sit in their cars and stare off past ubiquitous apartment buildings and sing rather than turning off the car and going inside to all-too-quiet apartments." I wanted to be in that post-phone call bubble just a few minutes longer because I knew the energy would leak out when I opened the car door. It didn't really, but at least I didn't spend the evening obsessing about The Date. Last week was obsession. This week is infatuation. (Burns half the calories but causes far less psychological damage.)

I leave you now with some Sting lyrics that are especially apropos today:

I sink like a stone that's been thrown in the ocean
My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion
Stop before you start
Be still my beating heart