I've been having some really fucked-up dreams lately, and I'm not sure what to do with them. It's probably connected to the incredible amount of pressure I've been under recently, and since there's nothing I can do about that anytime soon, I guess I'll just have to deal with it.
The weirdest one was where I was shooting a sex video with a flamboyant straight guy in a silver thong while a group of transsexuals pranced around. It was also a music video. The dream made it abundantly clear that the guy in the silver thong was straight, only he likes having sex with transsexuals. In the dream, I believed him.
A friend told me that dreams are a reflection of our subconscious. I told him that I'm pretty sure my subconscious is not telling me I really want to have sex with either transsexuals or flamboyant straight guys in silver thongs if that was what he was implying. He said nothing and looked away. I told him I'm already gay damnit. I don't need to make my sex life more complicated.
Another dream involved my nephews. They were drowning in tiny bathtubs. The dream focused on the small bubbles forming at the corners of their small, silent mouths.
That was a nightmare. I woke up, heart pounding, and almost threw up.
Then there was that dream 10 years ago, where I fell in love with a made-up man. Faceless, and always naked. In the dream I said I didn't want to wake up because I knew he would leave, and he said he will never leave me, and that I had to go. I woke up and felt my heart break.
He visited me again a few weeks ago. He was dressed this time in a yellow shirt and jeans, and he said it was nice to see me. I said I missed him, and accused him of breaking his promise. He smiled (or at least there was an aura of a smile, he was still faceless). I said I know you're a dream, I don't love you anymore. He said you don't love me not because I'm a dream, but because you already love someone else.
I woke up.
Dreams are tricky bastards.