Dream Journal: 2014-11-11.01

So yesterday was not a good day, and while I was much comforted by the presence of friends and amused by Sec’s not-quite stand up routine, I still went to bed in a shanking mood.

I dreamt I was sitting on an outcrop of rocks overlooking a still lake. Still pissy, I was throwing pebbles into the water because I didn’t trust myself to be civil around anyone right then.

A woman came up to me. Well, her clothes were a woman’s clothes. But her body was all wrong. No head was mounted on her neck, and her arms were placed under her ribcage. She greeted me loudly and brightly as she approached, so I returned the friendly greeting as best as I could. Which wasn’t well.

“You keep hailing like that and ice is going to fall out the sky at your call!”

“Sorry. I’ve had a day. I don’t feel sociable, and I’m surprised I can even speak to be honest.”

“I heard someone was throwing shit in the lake, so I just had to come see! But you’re throwing stones. Which is not shit.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Well, shit splatters, you see. And I wanted to see if shit would bounce as well.”

Her tone gave away that she was bullshitting me, and I couldn’t help but smile at her words.

“But shit would be hard to throw!”

“Really? Have you seen the logs some men drop around here? You need a lever just to roll them out the road!”

And the conversation quickly devolved into various takes on really shitty puns. Every time I thought I had a punchline, she would flush it and establish a new low. Soon I was laughing to tears. She was having so much fun throwing verbal shit around, she was holding the hem of her dress by her hands and jumping as she spoke.

The topic turned from feces to vaginas. Again we vied to out-gross and out-pun each other. I mimicked Sec’s “routine” (and gave credit) and the strange shaped woman giggled approvingly. She retorted with an even worse (better?) routine and as I howled my laughter, she lifted the hem of her dress as the punchline.

I recognized her immediately once I realized where she was speaking from.

“Oh, Baubo! I have been so discourteous! Here a goddess has come to me and I have been nothing but filthy mouthed the entire time!”

“So you were eating shit before! Gotcha!”

She slapped me on the shoulder as I slipped off my seat in laughter.

“You doing okay now, dearie?”

I was wiping my tears off my face and trying to remember why I was so pissed earlier. Once I did remember, the events weren’t so troubling now that I had distance from them, both emotional and temporal. “Yea. I’m doing okay now. Thanks, Baubo.”

“Tell that Seckie friend of yours that I’m stealing her routine!”

“I’ll tell her.”

“Always find something to laugh from. Mortal life is too short to stop laughing. Laughter is a gift from the gods! After all, what some mortals call civility is absolutely brutal.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Baubo held her dress up just enough to be cheeky and swaggered off singing a very, very raunchy song about salads, Caesar, and the recycling of semen among the men of that dynasty.

I don’t think I’ll be having ranch dressing on anything for a while because even if I don’t remember all the words, I’ll remember the visuals they created. Yikes!


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