Well, my muse has been nagging me once again to write something. I've tried to explain that feeling nothing is often quickly followed by thinking nothing, and that thinking nothing is inevitably followed by writing nothing. But she'll have none of that nonsense apparently, so I'm going to write.

I'm going to write about this dream I had last night.

I tell you this now so, if you're like me and hate reading about other peoples' dreams, you can leave now before it's too late.

Still here? Well don't say I didn't warn you.

I was at a party at ElPresidente's house. Just about everyone I knew from Rich O's was there, including a certain girl that I may have mentioned from time to time in this 'blog.

I was sitting on a couch, talking with this certain girl about something or another - I don't remember what exactly. What I do remember is that, in a single sentence, she said the word "kiss" four times. There was just something about the way she said the word. The way she drew it out and added syllables.

She wanted me to kiss her.

My dream self is quite a bit more brave than my awake self. I leaned over to her and gave her the softest kiss I could manage.

I was instantly hard, and so I instantly regretted the kiss. I'd tried to do something sweet, to be a good guy, and my body was trying to turn it into something completely different. I pulled away and started to stammer out an apology.

But she, she would have none of that nonsense apparently, because she followed me as I pulled away, and she followed me as I leaned back as far as I could. She kissed me several times, then we kissed each other several times. Tentatively at first, like we were both just feeling things out, but after a bit our lips parted in unison.

I got to first base with her, and I was nearly weeping from the relief and the happiness - the joy of it. She was crying openly, and telling me that I had no idea how long she'd been hoping that this would happen.

So at that point, we both knew that things were going to progress beyond the point where the middle of ElPresidente's living room would be the appropriate setting. Luckily for us, the FirstCouple had planned ahead, and were taking reservations for the numerous bedrooms in the house.

Unluckily for us, we were told that we had at least a two-hour wait. Must have been a randy bunch at the party.

We spent the next two hours waiting, cuddling on the couch, sneaking kisses when we thought nobody would be looking. It was both the happiest, and the most frustrating, period of my life. I got some under the blouse second-base action, but I wanted to SEE.

Eventually, FINALLY, one of the bedrooms opened up. RealTrainGirl and MusicalHippeeDude came down the stairs looking disheveled and holding hands (WTF?!?) and ElPresidente told us that it was our turn.

We stood up...

...and I woke up.

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

Now this damn dream kept me awake for the rest of the night. I could (and still can) remember every touch, every smell, every taste, every emotion. I've had very few dreams in my life that were this vivid and that had so much feeling in them.

I think what got to me though was not so much the specific content of the dream as the fact that I'd never had that type of dream about her before. Only a handful of times has my dream self ever even encountered her, and those times had never included anything romantic or sexual at all. Unless you count the time that I was seven and she was five or six.

Now, if I believed in this shit at all, I'd figure that maybe the girl in my dream was nothing more than a metaphor. A metaphor for the girl that even now continues to scale the walls of my fortress.

The girl that told me I had to write something.

My lovely muse, who is always forced to take a back seat. Even in my dreams.

But I don't believe in this shit, so I'm interpreting the dream as a true representation of what my heart wants.

I wish things were different. I really do. For her sake and mine.