Another Dream
Last night I dreamed that I went over to The Marine’s place. He wasn’t there when I arrived, so I had to wait for him. While I waited I looked around at the house he lived in. Although it was not visible to the eye, I felt like everything was covered in a thin film of grime. I left. As I was walking out the door, The Marine came in. He looked far worse than I had ever seen him–scruffy, grey eyes, stench of cigarettes ten times worse than in real life, and the vitality I had found so sexy had disappeared.
Then suddenly I was visiting my parents. For some reason Tex had to come by to pick up something, even though we had broken up. I sat at a table in the front yard flipping through a magazine. When he arrived, he came over and sat down next to me because he wanted to see the magazine too. Tex was tender, different. He pointed out things in the magazine he knew I’d like, and we kept moving closer and closer together in our chairs. Our thighs touched, and my heart raced with hope.
I woke up, covered in sweat. Even the sheets were damp. I hated both The Marine and Tex for making me feel the way they did in the dream. I hated myself more for giving in.
