I'm having problems remembering my dreams from last night.
I was with Seth T. and we were in a cozy setting, chatting and hanging out. We hung out for a long while before I remembered our past and decided to tell him how glad I was that he had gotten clean and stopped taking oxy-contin and heroin. He was teaching now and was totally functional and successful, and I wanted to recognize that verbally. But our visit was going so well and I didn't know how to bring up his serious past drug addiction without ruining the vibe.
I was at work, talking to Lori about taking my friend Sarah T. to hang out. Lori kept suggesting straight places, and I nodded politely, not wanting to tell her I was seeing Sarah T. Lori said that she and a friend were going out tonight, too.
Then Sarah T. and I were going to hang out. I was trying to talk her into going to a gay bar. We had been seeing each other secretly for a while, and I wanted to go somewhere where we could be open. First I ended up taking her to see some ancient ruins. We wandered through, and at some point I spun around and realized that all the ivy-covered remains combined made up something incredible that I recognized, but I can't remember what that was now. Then my Dad came be-bopping up the hill in a tie-dyed tee, swinging his keys and grinning. He ducked into the arch of a statue.
Then I was at the gay bar with Sarah, but it was more like a redneck restaurant. As Sarah and I wandered through the packed booths, to my horror I noticed Lori sitting in a booth with four others. As I passed I said, "Oh, my god! Nice suggestions!!!"
I looked around and noticed some old ladies were there. They were dancing and having a swell time, and I reflected on how most women I knew that were that age would think you would go to hell for dancing at a gay bar. Then I thought one of them might have a gay friend. Then I thought that having just one gay friend could send all that homophobic Bible-thumping straight down the toilet. I thought maybe everyone should have just one gay friend.
Then I was there with a guy named Clifton, who is not the Clifton I went to high school with. We were slow-dancing, sort of, and I felt like a country woman slumping barefoot in horse manure and cat pee. Then my grandpa walked in, followed by a string of people, one of which was my Dad - in a yellow tee, swinging his keys and grinning.
Clifton was arguing with me about telling people we were dating. I thought we were just having sex, but he wanted to actually date and tell people. I was horrified because he was ugly, and I couldn't bear for people to think we were a couple.
Lori sat me down in a booth and asked, "Why can't he just agree to have sex?!" She was dumbfounded. "I don't know!" I lamented.
Then Lori and I were jogging through an abandoned mall. It had been vacant for years and years, judging from the ruin it was in. There was no trace of the commercial sparkle that had once filled it. It was dark and musty and all that was left was a maze of doors. We were jogging through the doors when suddenly I realized that we were being chased by someone. I led the way up a set of filthy, carpeted stairs and turned into a room of the very people we were trying to avoid. I started fighting them back, but Lori turned and fled. "Lori, don't leave me!" I called hysterically, but she was gone. I threw objects at my antagonists to keep them back as I edged toward the door. I had fought them all down when I heard someone that I knew was bad ascending the stairs. There was nowhere to hide, but I lay down in a shadow. Lucas Parris came barreling in and started ripping things out of the way, much like Michael Myers flipping the tables in Halloween: H20. He got very close a few times, but when he finally saw me I kicked the shit out of him and we engaged in a fistfight. I ran down the stairs and started shutting doors to check for locks. None had them. Each time I paused to scan for a latch Lucas got a little closer behind me. Finally, at the last door, a lock appeared and I turned it. The fact that the doors were glass did not bother me. I tore down the hall, leaving him behind.
Then I was in a large store that was filled with crap I would never buy. I kept browsing and looking urgently for something I might enjoy, but nothing at all appealed to me. Then I found a little novelty box, much like they sell by the registers at book stores, but the name was a clever reference to the vagina. On the box top was a picture of a woman in lingerie, crouching and holding a wish-bone (the shape of the whole clitoris?). I broke it open and discovered a creamy lubricant in a lip-balm like pot (perfect for purses!), a keychain vibrator, and flash cards featuring vaginal trivia. I realized that all the boxes had been broken into and the last piece stolen (a Transformer that changed from a lip-gloss compact into a dildo? Who knows?).