
This time it was My Main Monk. Wow. It doesn't matter whose face we put on him, this dream lover is transcendental, for sure. It's not this big exciting and aerobic event at all. It's so peaceful and tender and strong and perfect, I could die in the middle of it and it would be excellent. In fact, he keeps seeming to be someone I would no longer consider being with, even for an instant, and dreaming of it would wake me up, freaked, before we got anywhere near the logical conclusion, so to speak, and so its not them at all. It's him.
And then I was in a fairy house in Mendocino and catching up on my sleep in a pristine bed, uninvited, and the owner of the bed was coming down the stairs, whoever he was, I could hear him and his breathing, but then I did wake up.
And slammed right back to sleep, only to be dreaming of blogging these incredibly intricately nested posts that exposed recondite truths about "bad guys"... again....
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