Dreams of F*cking a RnB Chick

Okay. Post #15 of this 30-Day Shindig (we're halfway there, y'all. OMG!) is: My Dreams. I actually started this post on MLK Day, which is about as appropriate as an American's post about dreams can be. I originally intended this to be about my goals and aspirations and all that other folksy bullshit, but I couldn't even get past the first sentence of this things going that route. So let's talk about the other kind of dream - the kind that project from my subconscious and my senses when I go to sleep. This is sure to get pretty interesting. Let's delve deeper into the disturbed recesses of my mind, shall we:

Lately, I'm been dreaming about Stem. Back when I was drooling over her and would've been glad to have her star in my wet dreams, nothing, but now that I don't see her, don't talk to her, don't text her, and rarely even give her a passing thought, she's popped up twice. Kissing, cuddling, nuzzling, generally canoodling, and, once, even walking down the hallway with me pressed up against her ass (and what a wonderful ass it is. I should think about it more often.).

Whether we're being highly inappropriate, yet giggling (chuckling in my case, of course) our asses off and snuggling our way through the school or driving across town and snuggling our way through the streets and avenues, the outcome is always the same: We have the greatest time together, but in the end, we never get past that certain level. When it comes to the time in the dream where cliche dictates that she spill her feelings all over me and declare her undying love.....nothing. For some reason or another, she won't let herself have me.

What does it all mean? Well.....Probably exactly what it was. I've never had a dream about somebody I know that didn't literally (I mean, down to the dialogue) or figuratively happen. I don't know if that makes me some kind of psychic or just sensitive to that kind of energy or whatever, but it's true. And it's weird. And it's confirming what I already suspected - Stem wants me, but she's terrified of having me. And that changes nothing unless I want to invest time into convincing her not to be afraid to be with me and be out about it, which I don't.

I've moved on.

So if it's not my thinking about her that's causing the dreams, it (maybe) means she must be thinking about me. Well, I'm flattered, really, but it's too little, too late. A woman's gotta do a whole lot more than think about me if she wants to be with, even in my dreams.

Fuck You, Cupid.

Love, like, lust, sparks, butterflies, connections, all of that shit. I was gonna say it sucks, but when it's right, it doesn't, so I'll refrain (for now, anyway). I'll also take it as yet another sign that what I'm feeling isn't right and I should just say fuck it, but, damn if I don't feel what I feel, regardless. I'm not even really sure how I got to this point; I just wish like hell that I wasn't here. At the same time, I don't wanna lose my spot, whatever that may be.  Maybe I'm deluding myself by assuming I even have one, being arrogant by assuming I'm number two.