I'm living in north-central San Francisco, a busy neighborhood I like, in a wooden house with an atrium. Fun, in some ways. Interesting people. One fascinating woman with strange face--beautiful, feline, with black black bangs and... Groucho Marx eyebrows? Wait, is this the house of Frida Kahlo?

But it's noisy and crowded and privacy's nonexistent. The walls are thin and my bedroom window's by a busy walkway--easy to peer in. Since I'm rather private about sex, this goldfish bowl leaves me frustrated. I'm not ready to chase any of the girls here, or to go out in the world.

Besides, I'm already in love--with our cat. Our unusual cat. She's big as a lynx, and smart--she loves to read, like me.

She rubs up against me. I massage her, nibble her ears, kiss her nose and want to kiss her nipples. She loves it all, and wants more. Ready for sex?

But I feel inhibited since anyone can hear, and peer in and see. So... my bed rolls out a sliding door into the atrium. Now that's furniture with initiative!

But is it really more private out here? Away from the main hallway, and roommates won't hear as readily, but a dozen bedroom windows open on the atrium--anyone looking out can see. No, I have to wait. Just no privace anywhere on our lot. Maybe in a park, way off-trail?

That's not my only worry. I have a recurring, unidentified infection, and I'm not sure if what demands sex RIGHT NOW is really me... or Lyme organisms (or something like them) trying to get me to infect a partner. The wave of lust was so abrupt and intense, I'm a little wary.

But she's so CUTE!

I find an odd mark on her haunch. A glyph with meaning. Not branding inflicted by humans--this fur pattern appears magically as you mature. On My Little Pony, they're called "cutie marks", a name suggesting mere surface decoration, but they're not: they announce your life-calling. Tattooed on your butt for everyone to see! Leaves you vulnerable to teasing or snap judgments.

Hmm. That's how I feel sexually in this crowded house: not embarrassed YET, but vulnerable to it. Exposed.

And then I wake, feeling insanely horny--for my cat.

NEXT EVENING

My housemates play a movie, Star Trek: Into Darkness. I get hooked. During James Kirk's early years at Starfleet Academy, he parties more than studies. One morning, he wakes up to find he's not alone in bed. Two girls with him! But not human. Big cats.

And now my dream makes more sense.

PICTURE NOTE

I have some canvas scraps with impressionist meadows, woods or flowerbanks, that my mom, a painter, gave me before her death. Inspired by Jenny Badger Sultan's Box of Dreams, I've been slowly painting dream figures on them. So the meadow was painted c.2000 (signed M. Pagels); I added the dream-cat in 2025 (signed Wayan). Posthumous crosstime collaboration!

I left off the mysterious glyph on her flank because I couldn't remember its shape when I woke; rather than falsify it, I'll wait till it reappears. Dreams play a long game.

World Dream Bank homepage - Art gallery - New stuff - Introductory sampler, best dreams, best art - On dreamwork - Books
Indexes: Subject - Author - Date - Names - Places - Art media/styles
Titles: A - B - C - D - E - F - G - H - IJ - KL - M - NO - PQ - R - Sa-Sh - Si-Sz - T - UV - WXYZ
Email: wdreamb@yahoo.com - Catalog of art, books, CDs - Behind the Curtain: FAQs, bio, site map - Kindred sites