rozkolora hararo

Work yesterday was stressful and pressed every neurotic button in this head.

Fortunately I fell asleep nicely on the couch, only to be awakened by Leah, then waddling to bed for a long night’s sleep where I dreamt.

The one vignette which stood out involved being surrounded by women. One had pink hair and some meat on her bones. The other was a cross between my former co-worker Lilly and Gianna Michaels. In that vague dream fashion, I was talking to the hybrid and confessing how I’ve always had designs on her followed by a marriage proposal. She went on about how she can’t show her tits because of some hang-up, or her father will kill her, or something like that.

I had to leave the room, and when I returned I saw hybrid and Pink Hair laying together on the couch. Just laying on the couch, no naughtiness was afoot. I leaned over them, opened my arms wide then gave them a hug together. In that gesture I felt an echo of the love I felt while tripping on magic mushrooms, and it ached. I wanted to be enfolded in that softness, warmth, and love.

When I finally woke to the sound of Leah putting something in the microwave, I had this as an earworm.

Post script: I heard this song on a music webcast last month. Since the DJ never posted a set list, I was in the dark. Used Shazam for the first time and holy mackerel it works. Best of all, there may or may not be a sync going on with the title “Just a Memory”.

Chris S.
Anomalist, esperantist, cyclist, typist, dodecaphile, ailurophile, and oneiromancer. Chris lives near the shore with his wife, cats, and the Jersey Devil in his backyard.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.