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Mar. 1st, 2004 05:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
redfirecrackerWord of warning . . . I'm on a bit of a manic, so bear with me while I bounce all over the map in this entry.
This chick just came up to the counter to get a book, and instead of saying, "Hi, can I help you?", I point to her shirt and yelp, "I love that store!"
Toys in Babeland. Awesome store -- the best store on earth for sex toys and other fun stuff, I'm convinced. I got the best vibrators there, and I considered the prices to be quite reasonable. If you ever get to NYC, check it out.
While cleaning up my living room ( some more ) this weekend, I found a bunch of old, unlabeled videotapes and started watching them to see if they were worth keeping. One contained some episodes of Witchblade.
David Chokachi.
Hottest thing EVER.
Guh. Just . . . GUH.
More weird weekend dreams.
This Saturday night dream was much more disjointed than the previously reported occurrence . . . more the way my dreams usually are, truth be told. It involved living in some sort of vaguely Communist / Nazi / Fascist-type regime, with the constant fear of scrutiny and capture.
This time, I'm waiting at a bus stop when I see this guy get into a cab. Again with the eyes meeting, but the cab is pulling away and all I can do is stare longingly. But Pat turns to look at me, raising one hand as they drive off into the distance.
Later that night, I go looking for him.
He's not hard to find, and I'm not sure if the ease of discovery is because I'm looking so hard or because he wants to be found.
A table full of guys I know vaguely are in the bar, and there are nods and smiles all around. Some of them are in the Resistance, and one of them has a drinking problem.
No, really. If he stops drinking for too long, his legs shrivel up, rot away, and fall off, leaving behind nothing but raw flesh and screams.
That's what I call a problem.
It's easy to see from the smiles around the table that everyone knows why I'm there, except maybe the person who's actually the reason. I know his life although I shouldn't, and it's a surprise to him when I mention that he did his military service in the Navy, at the Yokohama naval base.
We leave together, to no one's suprise except my own, both of us looking a little puzzled at the ease of our fit.
That's all I remember . . . but here's where it gets really fucking weird.
Somehow, on Sunday night, I ended up following a link to classmates.com.
Hey, I had nothing better to do, and I was curious.
So I went through the registration process and checked out the alumni from my school -- I was surprised to discover that almost half of my graduating class has registered at the site.
I read through all the names, smiling at some and sneering at others, and the last name on the list . . . yeah. You guessed it.
This guy.
He didn't graduate with us, so I hadn't expected to see his name in the grouping, and it was a real shock.
Hold on . . . it gets even weirder.
Naturally, I clicked on the link to see what he's been up to, and among other things, it listed his military service.
Anybody want to guess what branch and where?
Yeah. Navy. Yokohama.
Fucking weird!
I was. Creeped. Out.
Anybody have any ideas about what these dreams mean? I've never been any good at dream interpretation, but I can't imagine that my subconscious is actually telling me to go chasing after this guy, based on a two-decades-long crush and a single potential flirtation.
And while we're on the subject . . . what the fuck is up with the Yokohama business?
Am I completely loony?
So . . . help!
This chick just came up to the counter to get a book, and instead of saying, "Hi, can I help you?", I point to her shirt and yelp, "I love that store!"
Toys in Babeland. Awesome store -- the best store on earth for sex toys and other fun stuff, I'm convinced. I got the best vibrators there, and I considered the prices to be quite reasonable. If you ever get to NYC, check it out.
While cleaning up my living room ( some more ) this weekend, I found a bunch of old, unlabeled videotapes and started watching them to see if they were worth keeping. One contained some episodes of Witchblade.
David Chokachi.
Hottest thing EVER.
Guh. Just . . . GUH.
More weird weekend dreams.
This Saturday night dream was much more disjointed than the previously reported occurrence . . . more the way my dreams usually are, truth be told. It involved living in some sort of vaguely Communist / Nazi / Fascist-type regime, with the constant fear of scrutiny and capture.
This time, I'm waiting at a bus stop when I see this guy get into a cab. Again with the eyes meeting, but the cab is pulling away and all I can do is stare longingly. But Pat turns to look at me, raising one hand as they drive off into the distance.
Later that night, I go looking for him.
He's not hard to find, and I'm not sure if the ease of discovery is because I'm looking so hard or because he wants to be found.
A table full of guys I know vaguely are in the bar, and there are nods and smiles all around. Some of them are in the Resistance, and one of them has a drinking problem.
No, really. If he stops drinking for too long, his legs shrivel up, rot away, and fall off, leaving behind nothing but raw flesh and screams.
That's what I call a problem.
It's easy to see from the smiles around the table that everyone knows why I'm there, except maybe the person who's actually the reason. I know his life although I shouldn't, and it's a surprise to him when I mention that he did his military service in the Navy, at the Yokohama naval base.
We leave together, to no one's suprise except my own, both of us looking a little puzzled at the ease of our fit.
That's all I remember . . . but here's where it gets really fucking weird.
Somehow, on Sunday night, I ended up following a link to classmates.com.
Hey, I had nothing better to do, and I was curious.
So I went through the registration process and checked out the alumni from my school -- I was surprised to discover that almost half of my graduating class has registered at the site.
I read through all the names, smiling at some and sneering at others, and the last name on the list . . . yeah. You guessed it.
This guy.
He didn't graduate with us, so I hadn't expected to see his name in the grouping, and it was a real shock.
Hold on . . . it gets even weirder.
Naturally, I clicked on the link to see what he's been up to, and among other things, it listed his military service.
Anybody want to guess what branch and where?
Yeah. Navy. Yokohama.
Fucking weird!
I was. Creeped. Out.
Anybody have any ideas about what these dreams mean? I've never been any good at dream interpretation, but I can't imagine that my subconscious is actually telling me to go chasing after this guy, based on a two-decades-long crush and a single potential flirtation.
And while we're on the subject . . . what the fuck is up with the Yokohama business?
Am I completely loony?
So . . . help!
