"Here, wear mine", she says.
"Sure", I shrug. Why not. We're are standing in the parking lot at work. It has been raining, although the skies are clear now. We have to walk across a grassy median and I'm not wearing shoes-or socks.
Feeling adventurous and slightly trippy, I slip my feet into her rubber slippers. They're purple in colour, and there's a flowery pattern across the part that bridges the top of my feet.
"Cool!", I exclaim as we start to walk across the grass. Of course it's wet from the rain and soon my feet are soaked and they start make that squish, squish sound. Now the cold sets in as this small grassy median has turned into an endless field. We've been walking forever it seems.
I have to pee.......I have to pee.........I have to pee.......
"Oh fuck!". Groaning, I turn over and force myself awake.
It's just as well that I seldom remember my dreams.
3 comments:
What no Smurfs? Where the hell were the Smurfs in this dream? No zombies poking their heads out of the grass? Would have been worse if you had cheese....~nods~
I am still looking for Papa Smurf, tisk...
Love Lea
AAaaahhhhh ! dreaming!!!!! What could be better?? I have had a fucking awful week and an even awfuller evening. The frying pan almost did get used for murder this time. And I know what you mean about breast feeding in public too. I often go to our nearby motorway service station for afternoon meal of tea when the old man is away and recently felt moved to defend a young lady who was doing what comes naturally with her own child. Much to the disgust of some nearby narrowminds who, though they were stuffing their own faces saw fit to complain about a baby who was also doing so. I have to tell you that a battle almost ensued and only the hasty departure of an embarressed mother and her very upset child saved several narrowminds from an early death. Those sorts of people are the kind that hide "dirty books" under the cushions of the sofa and giggle about peeing and like natural things. They ought to be drowned at birth. Hope you are well and all that sort of stuff... XXVickyXX
And I recall a time, somewhere like 100 years ago, when all railway stations had a "Ladies Waiting Room" where men were not permitted to go. There was nobody to complain about a bit of tit on sow then! XXVickyXX
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