Never fall asleep on your back after having consumed a bowl of cheese popcorn and a big glass of orange pop. Why? Well, because you’ll have a very fucking weird dream and it’ll make you doubt yourself. 😆 I fell asleep late last night, on the couch, watching Se7en on DVD (good movie even if I don’t like Brad Pitt, saw it when it was released too), but when SP got in this morning, the sound of the door woke me up and I couldn’t go back to sleep. Anyway, I was tired today, so I finished most of the work I had to do and decided to take a nap. Freudians, stop reading here, or just STFU because I don’t want to know what you think.

I was at some kind of party; V and B had had a “thank you” party at someone else’s house, and now had their own house, so they offered to let someone (maybe me?) have a party at theirs (or was it mine?). Anyway, the alcohol was flowing freely and everyone was having a good time. I recall jumping down from a loft (?) hand in hand with a friend whose name I think was Ricky. He was there with his g/f and I was with someone, so we hadn’t been doing anything we oughtn’t have been, it was just a fun party atmosphere. Next thing I know, I’m hitting on (remember what I said, Freudians?) my old high school principal, and…it’s working. I was my own age now, but he was whatever his age when I was seventeen. Actually, he was 42 in the dream and I know that because he said it, right before someone at the party (Ricky? He had honey blond hair that was dark underneath, and he was wearing a yellow T-shirt) got into a huge argument with a neighbor about the noise. I remember he shouted, “I don’t give a FUCK about your fucking tree-planting party!” (I don’t make this stuff up). Also, there was that tiny incident where V punched the prostitute someone had tried to bring in as a date (she wore a pink tank top with a glittery butterfly on the front), and although she was very upset, all I said was, “You’ll have to leave. No pros in my house” and shove her out the door. Then, I went back to where Peter was sitting on a beige pillowback sofa, leaning on a crimson cushion. He was looking at a catalogue of hockey gear (though it was summer), and when he finished his Bacardi Breezer (very masculine drink, and he had it in a wine glass :lol:), he and I decided to leave and go to his place. I sort of draped myself over him and said, “Okay, sure–let’s go before the cops get here. Are you still in Grand Pré?” He gave me a slightly surprised look, then replied, “Well, yes. How did you know I was there in the first place?” I told him “I used to live there myself” (true, though long after I was out of school). Thankfully, it was at that point that I woke up. I don’t want to know what this dream means, I didn’t even like my principal in high school (he tossed me out of Grade 12 three times for my abysmal attendance), much less have any kind of crush on him or want to sleep with him, and although I do now recall that he did live in Grande Pré, I have no idea how I found that out, and if you’d asked me yesterday, I’m 99.99% sure I would not have remembered. It was the cheese popcorn, I know it. 😉