The conversation was easy, natural. It surprised me how much we actually had in common. Though his career and lifestyle were much more demanding than mine, he seemed so interested in the little, insignificant details of my life.
We approached a narrow alley, and he quickly threw his arms around my waist, turning me around until my back was against the brick wall. He leaned in, one muscular arm on the wall, and kissed me gently. Whispering softly, he nuzzled my ear and kissed my neck.
"What about her?" the awful words came out involuntarily before I could stop them.
"She is nothing compared to you. How can I ever be the same, now that I know you? You have changed me. You have made me a better man."
He cupped my face in his hands, leaned in close, his lips brushing mine...
And then the bloody alarm clock went off.
Yes, last night I had one of those rare (for me) dreams in which I am the object of desire. Typically, even in my own subconscious, I am rejected and humiliated. It's been that way for as long as I can remember. I know! I reject myself! Who does that? Doesn't get any more crazy than that.
I am sure it is my insecurities revealing themselves as I sleep, but it stinks to not even be the star of your own dreams. What a field day Freud would have with me and my crazy head. Books could be written about the things that go on in there.
The better question though is who was the leading man last night?
I'll tell you. It was him:
YUM, right? He looked even better in my dream, I can assure you. And he wanted ME. ME! Thought I was absolutely irresistible and worth changing his life for.
Are you getting what I'm telling you? He was willing to give up this:
If such a man exists, I think one would seriously question his judgment and sanity.
Still, it was a lovely dream and I have no complaints.
What about you? Who is your dreamland leading man?