Can I please stay in my dream world?

Twice in the last week I had dreams about SSD. (For those folks that don’t remember, the guy I dated a couple years ago). The first was rather tame. We just happened to be in the same place at the same time. Nice stuff. Last night’s sequence, he played a starring role (in the same shirt on his myspace profile pic). We were walking around what seemed like the Gaslight district of Cincinnati and stopped on somebody’s front porch to have sex. Yes, to have SEX. After our passionate kinky-ness took place, we walked to his lofty apartment space (which he doesn’t really have). There he devastated me by saying (once again) he met someone else. In my dream, all the same emotions came back while I watched him walk away down the street. This time, I chased him.

I forced him talk to me. I turned him around to face me, and I told him that I loved him (which I never did). That he belonged with me. He kissed me — and it reminded me how passionate we both were about each other. He told me that once — that he loved the way I kissed him. As though I kissed him and he meant everything to me (he did).

And then, he turned into some hot blond chick. There wasn’t an exact time reference in the transformation. It was as if we woke up together one morning and all the sudden he was a female. And I told him/her that the dress s/he was wearing made her/him look fat. Ha.

Seriously. Can I get a life as exciting?

So, this morning I texted him to tell him about the dream. He replied with a punctuated “again?” (noticing this was not an isolated incident). I told him it must be because I miss him or forgot what he looked like or something. My next received message was his picture. And it still skips my heart.

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