I woke up out of a dream just minutes ago. It involved what I shall call a local celebrity of the gay community. Inherently, that means corrupted, dubious, disorganized and loved madly by the folks he regularly screws for money. There are more than a few here.
Although I enjoy him on stage, his behavior and social skills face-to-face set me off – big time.
In the dream, he is rather sick, not really sure from what.
He and I finally have it out verbally. He proposes a you hit first, I hit back situation. Actual fisticuffs… He wouldn’t stand a change.
I start off tedious about the whole thing. Just light taps with my knuckles, then it happens and I get pissed. He uses his round to touch me softly. Intimately.
I am furious. I punch into his ribcage with everything I have. He strokes his hand across my jaw. I impact just below the shoulder. He is winded. He runs a finger across my lips. I wail on his gut. He brushes my nipple. I clock him in the jaw.
I am furious that I didn’t see his manipulation coming. I am furious at his audacity. I am full of rage and pummelling him at each chance.
And I am enjoying it. Viciously.
The stuff inside of me when I landed a punch…? I could feel it for real inside of me, like part of me was awake and aware.
There was a flash at the end of the dream, of this guy all sickly white, being driven off in his limo. (Limo??? Ugh.) His driver and personal assistant were with him. He reaches up to hold his assistant’s hand and gets the most evil of smiles. She smiles, too. Even though I know in that moment that she is giving him her heart. Literally. They are off to the hospital and she is dying to keep him alive. Honestly… WTF?!?
gryphon's hole 