him again

I'm with the guy in the red t shirt again. I'm keeping him hidden in a shed or shack, down a path, through familiar fields. I'm hiding him from my boyfriend. Sneaking away to bring him supplies hidden in my bag amongst the usual chaos.

We're on the top floor of a museum, making out? doing something dirty anyway...
And then suddenly I'm outside and surrounded by water, the landscape has changed and the whole place is channels and islets. Soft fescue being slowly covered by the rising water, tiny silver bubbles trapped between the soft blades.
On many of these islets and in the channels between them stand water pumps, faucets, spigots... under them stand huge stone basins or enamel Belfast sinks. Some of these are like standpipes poking out of the sea. Is it the sea? I think it's tidal, ebbing and flowing... an estuary maybe.
I'm moving over the surface of the water, I can't tell how, but I'm travelling away from the museum and I can't control my trajectory. I'm being drawn away, on and on. Somehow I know that I've lost him.

I dont know

I can't remember the dream much..
it was very bright..like technicolor..
there was a wicked witch / stepmother ( green face and all)
I had magic stones i had dropped that were scattered around a room and i woke up screaming for my mice to come and collect all the stones.

except it sounded like mahh..mahhhhh...mahhhhh
( i tried to go back to sleep again..it was just a REAL dream..but oh well..I yearned for that dream all day)

Venezualians

Last night I dreamt I was back at my parents, I had just woken up and was looking out of my bedroom window. My father's vegetable garden is directly below it. In my dream three big five foot deep trenches had been dug. Along side each trench were gigantic gourds which were either being planted or extracted. The whole operation was being conducted by Hugo Chavez the Venezuelan President.

27/11/2007 Dream

And it's in some kind of hall where there's a posh dinner party going on or something, but anyway I'm there with my dead father. He's younger and kinder than I remember him being most of the time when he was alive, and we are meticulously going through all of his possessions deciding what should be kept and what should be given away and what should be thrown out.

And then I wake up. And I'm crying uncontrollably, so much that it affects me throughout the whole of the rest of the day.

Longing

Someone's standing behind me, their hand on my tummy, over my hips, under my breasts. Holding me gently close. But I mustn't look. If I turn around there's nobody there.
He whispers to me that he wants to give me something, so that I will remember him later. It's only small he says, as he pulls my jeans away from my tummy and drops it down inside. A tiny metallic something falls into the shadows between my jeans and my belly.
When I wake up, I have to resist the urge to search through yesterdays trousers.