Fairly sketchy one about having sex with someone I shouldn’t be. Got in trouble from her house sitter. Hard to figure out given who owns the place.
I was either at a wedding, in the army (or something similar with a mess hall) and I was chatting with my fellow table inhabitants. The topic of Gabby Rooney came up, (she being a girl from high school I had used to have the hots for). Apparently people considered her to be hot at present (maybe she was rich and famous or something). They were bemoaning the fact that they would never get the chance to meet her. I said that at her 21st she’d said I should ring her (or ring her more often). This did actually happen and I rang once or twice. No one acknowledged this statement and I was too stubborn to repeat it. For some reason we were signing a big card for her. I wrote that she should call me as I was in the book, but she was not. I then retired to a cramped toilet to weep – eh? Think I was put out that ‘nobody listens to me’. My eyes were all puffy and I did not want to return to the social gathering until I looked normal. I used all the toilet roll to blow my nose and then a whole bunch of the square toilet tissue boxes appeared so I got stuck into those as well. (nice use of telekinesis or matter creation or something there).
Why I would dream of Gab after all these years is a mystery. Maybe I am longing for happier times, or wondering what she’s done with herself (probably happily married etc).
I was walking along a country lane in England. I was accompanied by either a girl friend or an ex. We were walking past a rough wooden fence and three foxes appeared. The middle fox began to attack the woman I was with – eating her right hand. My feeling it was her own fault and she was getting what she deserved
Transporter 4. Big merc or Bentley. Changing clothes. Adversary drives by. I jump in car and drive off. My two companions may or may not have been with me. Quiet overgrown country lane. Car parked inside of masseur establishment. Flying using a light-cycle controller. Being shot at. A few misses, one grazed right temple. Wake with migraine.
(yet another fuzzy one). I think I was on a date with Alison and Rammstein’s Mutter album was playing quietly in the background. Someone else appeared and asked what the music was. The ex (dirty hoe that she is) appeared and said not to say and rolled her eyes (hence deriding my choice of music). Thus I said what it was and the ex appeared pissed off.
I had stopped aging. Unfortunately I was about 70 or 80 and in need of rejuvenation.