Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

not at all in need of therapy

I dreamed I lived in a huge house that had become a refuge against an apocalyptic world for me and a handful of my friends--except that mid-slumber-party my friends also invited a rock band to stay, and they took over the entire living room. I suggested that they might want to expand to other rooms in the house, but meanwhile it was turning into party central, so I left to wander upwards through the many floors and rooms of my mansion. I was surprised by the number of people wandering the halls in what had once been an empty place entirely my own.

In the penthouse, I found my sparring partner--a tough handsome man rather like Michael in La Femme Nikita. We squared off for a sword fight, but my sword was like a Chinese yo-yo, those party favors where you flip a curl of paper forward off a stick, then pull it back. So I went to find another sword in my weapons storeroom; I kept finding short knives and other inadequate substitutes (step away from your paperback copy of Freud for Beginners, please) and I don't think we ever got around to the sex swordplay, my hunt devolving into a series of navigational zigzags through women's locker rooms.

And thus I begin my day.
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 6 comments