What Do YOU Dream?

I brought some of my jinfamous scratch-made Sangria, can I pour a glass for anyone before I begin?

Jinerally, I dream three scenarios:

  1. I am late delivering a Wedding Cake for the Brides Reception... by a DAY!
  2. Zombies are chasing me so I have to steal a car that's been abandoned in a lot. Usually they're junkers but I always cut the noshing of my brains way too close by trying to get the red convertible sports car.
  3. Sex.

The analytical brain goes tick tock:
  1. No chance. Never been late, never will. (Before you even ask- No, never dropped one, never will. Confidence People!)
  2. I hate red cars. I don't like sports cars either & I never want a convertible! (I do however, salivate over the green Mini Cooper with White Racing Stripe. Hubba.)
  3. All I can say is that I must have been a dude in my most recent past life. I mean, you guys think about it like once every 3 seconds, right?! (Ok, so I'm not quite that bad.)

Last week I spent an entire night dreaming about The Wulfshead! (Dreamspeak... an entire night = 5 minutes & 27.3 seconds. Roughly ;-) I was in my Blogger Dashboard trying to post at my private blog about the recent horribleness regarding my relatards & their inbreeding-not-so-poor-white-trash-vileness towards yours truly. The thing is, every time I clicked Publish it appeared on The Wulfshead blog! I was mortified that everyone would think I was a bit of a pussy for letting lower life forms affect me & quickly tried to delete before anyone saw what I had typed... when it dawned on me, that even though my visits here are sporadic, I do believe that all of you are good decent people.

I realized, in my dream, that I could be myself here.

Then I realized, after I awoke, that I simply must try to come round more often.


  1. To the extent I dream- not so much lately- it's often control issues. The most common one by far is driving down a curvy mountain road, the only person in the car... and I'm in the back seat. I leap across the seat and dive for the brake, only to realize I can't steer because I can't see with my head down on the floor. Somehow, I always manage to get to the bottom safely, though.

    I'd much rather have sex dreams.

  2. Lockwood,
    Getting to the bottom safely is the important part!

    I'd offer to send you some of my sex dreams but I have a feeling they might not be quite what you're looking for!

  3. Speaking of sex dreams, jin writes so well that when she uses the phrase "from scratch"---which she does a lot---this fetish I have for her beautiful pastry-kneading hands comes alive...and I have to leave the room for a few minutes. Not only that, every memory I have of any encounter with Sangria is filled all night toilet-hugging and morning-after vows of Never Again. But if she leans across the table, revealing her ---gasp--- irresistible endowments, pushes that fruity sweetness my way, and whispers "Try just a sip," I won't care that she was a dude in a past life. I'll look in her eyes and join Faust in the underworld.

  4. Ahhhh Jazzy, your comments always do bring a smile to my face!

    Here, try just a sip.

  5. Oh well, a jinvitation to just one sip---what can that do?

    ---cautious slurp---

    But what's this? Jazzy feels himself

    a staring mindless zombie

    driving madly in
    Mini Cooper
    chasing jin
    huge cake in back seat

    Quick! another sip...

  6. um... sorry to break it to you... but... ahhhh... those aren't my brains you're going after!!!

  7. Bartender, could we have 2 zombies over here please? (A little more "punch" than sangria, jin.)

    As I've gotten to know my new reality, I've discovered there are as many kinds of zombies as there are wedding cakes. You're right: when I eat out, it's not brains I look for on the menu.

  8. That glass has a pretty vibrant red. Fitting for the south of Spain, where, in towns like Seville, it can go up to 120 in the summer. Definitely not a cold weather drink or a drink for the cold blooded.

    Intended to cool one off, while perhaps packing a subtle high, it is best served out on an open patio, beneath a large cafe umbrella, where the sun can’t slowly bake the top of one's head. As one sits numerous ladies pass by, and many gents too. The human spectacle passes in review. Without intruding one looks at another, nor presenting a bold focus, guarding against violating anyone’s privacy. We are together and alone at the same time: a very nice place to be.

    What passes through one's mind in such moments is one's own private business. But the human spectacle is always intriguing, and completely free too for the observant cafe dweller. We have yet to master this basic skill here in the States. We stare boldly, curiously, not knowing how to look without intruding. Or caring. We’ll get there though.