#red-bikini

I was having a nightmare, but then I died and everything was okay. In the dream I was surrounded by beautiful girls in red bikinis. They were cooking me food and recalling all the beautiful afternoons and nights we had spent together, and I was terrified because I couldn’t remember any of these beautiful nights. All I could remember were the miserable, cold nights I spent by myself for the last two years. And then suddenly, I realized I had been dead for those two years, and everything was okay. I realized that it must be a dream, because I was dead and my skin was blue and my breath was cold, and everyone else was so warm and satisfied that my skin melted away at their touch. So I sat on my couch between two beautiful brunettes with soft skin and huge tits, and I let them touch me and coo until I was a puddle seeping into the cushions. Then I woke up, ruined.

            My eyes shot open violently. The rest of my body could have stayed curled up in that cocoon for the rest of the day, but my eyes were too anxious to sleep anymore. I looked over at the clock. Dead. I went over to my phone, pressed the home button and averted my eyes, prepping myself for the obnoxious blue light. 5:08. Could be worse. I fall back on my bed and examine the patterns the already setting sun is making on my ceiling. Maybe if I was high, I would have thought it was beautiful, but combined with my searing headache, it just looked like random stripes of yellow on white, and nothing about that seemed particularly deep. Everything around me was stagnant and cold, so I flicked the light on, and then everything was yellow. A little better.

            After about five minutes of laying in bed with the light on and trying to figure out what had actually just happened, I finally came to and knew that it was all a dream. The beautiful women, the food, the melting, the rain. Wait, was it actually raining? No, it was overcast, but it doesn’t rain in LA. Yes, it was all a dream. Of course it was. How could she have slipped into the couch cushion like that, sliding out of my life forever? No, when she left my life forever, she did it defiantly, telling me to stay while she walked out the door. I guess I do that to my dog every day, but I come back. That’s the difference. I’m a loyal owner, and she wasn’t. The other difference is that I own a terrier, and she owned my heart, but that’s just semantics.

            I sat up. There was something I had to do today, but I couldn’t remember. Wait, I had to clean up the living room and the kitchen. But didn’t I already do that? Maybe in my dream? Oh shit, that wasn’t a dream, that was this morning. Right, I took a nap, so that makes today... Thursday? Jesus, it’s still Thursday, okay, great. There’s still plenty of time to... do nothing.

            And that’s when I realized that my dream was all just a horrendously obvious metaphor for my self-alienation, and I was upset with my subconscious for not having a better sense of subtlety or nuance.

Anyway, that’s what I think my dream meant, and then I was ruined for the rest of the day. That’s probably not very deep, but I just hope you can relate. I’m a little scared you can’t. I’m a little scared that I’m the only one who was even slightly hurt by our relationship. I’m worried that your life didn’t beat the shit out of you like mine did, and that you don’t make yourself feel worthless before you go to bed every night. If you don’t, I’m jealous, and I’m not nearly spiteful enough to wish my fate on you.