This won't be a typical dream post where I stick strictly to the dream. I do not like to embellish my dreams with real world facts. I've made the mistake of confusing my dreams with reality, and that won't happen again. The reason I'm blathering on is that I haven't slept much the last couple of days, so although I sure dreamt today, I was too exhausted to recall much. It happens. Anyways, I dreamt of Jamie from Outlander. There was certainly more involved, perhaps puppets and an alligator, but I'm not sure. I know it wasn't a dirty dream. Those are very rare for me and involve both real and dream people. I say dream people because I'm interested in them. Not sure if they're out there or ghosts, but I think they exist and are not a figment of my wild imagination. So, this post will be more about that wilderness as my actual dreaming. My first dirty dream was about Michael Landon, and I remember it well: he beat me and raped me. I might've been twelve or thirteen. Grandma loved him, but Mummy and I didn't care for him at all, and this was before it was revealed that he was a wife beater. Little House, like The Waltons, always depressed the fuck out of me. I was more a Jeannie/Bewitched fan. No dreams of living in the sticks with sanctimonious white folks. Pass. The next time I had a dirty dream I was in college, they're that far between. That dream did concern a crazy Scotsman, and it's little wonder as he walked around with his dick hanging out of his jeans, only nobody noticed. No wonder Ron's friend's Scots wife said she "came to America for your big cocks". It was very embarrassing as it also included my girlfriend, who is like my little sister, and we were all three beneath a table in a restaraunt. That wasn't entirely Chris's, the Scotsman's, fault, as Adinda was an exhibitionist like Mummy and Daddy, and it was hard to keep any clothes on her. Lucky Michael Landon never got hold of her. Since the dreaming has been out of control the last few years, maybe as I've turned-off, refusing the ghosts, finding them unhealthy, I might get a kiss in a dream, but I also have a harem of men. So, no, I like Jamie and find him handsome, but Murtagh and the savages are more my type. I loved how he chopped that dirty motherfucker's head off and tossed it at the ladies' feet. He's my favorite character by far. Those savages are growing on me fast, though. They're real, not half breeds or orange Oogie Booger make-up. I've inherited Mummy's tee-shirt from the sixties that says, Take Me To Your Tee-pee. I know The Cherokee didn't live in tee-pees, I'm not stupid, a table would do.
