I awoke this morning horny. I had been dreaming of ghosts. A large party that covered whole city blocks. It resembled the downtown Eastside of Vancouver. All the buildings appeared as they do today except the streets, the windows, sidewalks and air were filled with cars, horses, wagons and people of yesteryear, some centuries old. I was four or five floors up in a hotel. It happened to be clean and comfortable decorated with furniture from the turn of the century. I questioned the dark haired female ghost next to me
“How old are you?”
“292 years. I’m old” She smiled appearing no older than 29, “You?”
I couldn’t remember how old I was. My early thirties I suppose then I thought I was 32 and began wondering why 32 just didn’t seem to be the right age. She had read my thoughts and said out loud,
“You are young and still alive.”
I felt fear nagging behind meas being alive around these ghosts although jovial could mean trouble. I moved on through the room content to let fear follow. An orgy was in progress. This orgy was not just sex. It encompassed everything and anything that could make people (ghosts) laugh and feel pleasure. There were ghosts eating. There were ghosts tickling one and other. There were ghosts painting and taking their clothes off comparing their wounds to that which they were painting.
I remembered being alive. I knew I was not dead and peaked my head out the curtainless window down the length of the street below, witnessing the final cacophony of ghostial bestiality… then all was calm.
My surroundings morphed into a dank apartment. This was real. My surroundings didn’t smell. It was dirty, unkempt and all shades of brown in color. I felt happy. It felt familiar. I heard voices in the distance and recognized them. Andrea’s voice sung out. She had climaxed. She giggled. I set about doing the dishes but they had all been cleaned beforehand. I set about putting them all away. There were mountains of them and drying racks everywhere. The dish towels were gross. I tossed them *dans la poubelle quickly. There were five drawers in the kitchen. Four of the five contained one kind of cutlery, forks, spoons, small spoons and knives. The fifth contained a cutlery organizer. I got confused. I began laughing.
The sound of a man came into existence. Jean Paul Tremblay walked into the kitchen. A bed appeared in the corner. We sat and I began studying his penis for drawing purposes.
I certainly woke **happy today.
This is the first dream I remember upon waking in which I was not using drugs, I was not running or trying to escape something or someone and not fearing for my life, nor was I screaming upon waking up.
I awoke having an orgasm. This is the first time that that has happened in years.