Dream in four acts

I had a dream in several acts, like a Shakespearean play or - if that's too lofty - a tv series.  The same characters reappeared in subsequent dreams and the conversation and plot referred to earlier events.

I slept fitfully last night, which normally would result in me getting up extra early.  But I've got a headache that drugs can't touch so the thing I most wanted to do every time I woke up in the night was go back to sleep.

I dreamt that I was dating a guy in my dance class.  In reality this is someone who is good looking, sweet-natured, a terrific dancer, and also someone in whom I have no erotic or romantic interest.  In the dream neither one of us were dancers.  We met in a library that was in the middle of shifting from the Dewey decimal system to the Robot intervention system.  Every time I went to look up a book it had been declassified by one system but was not yet in the new system; essentially it was in library cataloging limbo.  We bonded over being human in a confusing and digital age.

The library became our shared condo and also a lecture hall; two of the our fellow classmates - a short curly-haired blonde and a tall silent redhead - also lived in the library.  We slept in the master bedroom which was also where the rare books collection was housed; they slept in the study.  In the daytime, various professors stood at the door to the library to give lectures that virtually no one could hear or see because the acoustics in the library absorbed rather than reflected sound, and because the book stacks obscured almost any clear line of sight. We diligently sat on couches and took notes anyway.  There was a lot of whispered "What did he say?"

I woke up to a blinding headache, and exhaustion so profound it seemed impossible to go foraging for drugs.  I knew there were none in the house, but I suspected there were some in my car.  Instead I went to the bathroom and drank water straight from the faucet, then stumbled back to bed.

My boyfriend and I moved into a one-bedroom house in the suburbs with our library roommates.  We slept in the master and they slept in the living room.  There was a sun room with lots of plants at the back of the house.  None of us were in college anymore.   The roommates worked together waitressing at a local diner and my boyfriend was in construction.  I taught at the local high school.  But we went to night classes at the local university together sometimes, not as official registrants, but just to sit in the back row and listen.

In class one night we met an amateur filmmaker who doing a documentary on relationships.  He wanted me to discuss how my lesbian marriage had been different than my current straight relationship.  I declined but gave him permission to interview my roommates.

The redhead was too shy but the curly-haired blonde loved being in front a camera; she had all kinds of opinions and as she talked about how sad it was that my boyfriend and I never seemed to have sex I realized she was jealous and would take my place in a heartbeat given half a chance.  I knew he wasn't interested in her but wondered what kind of damage she could do by continuing to live in our space.

I woke up to the same blinding headache and the same series of judgement calls: yes, in excruciating pain, no not willing to put on clothes and go to my car, yes thirsty, no not willing to get a glass from the kitchen, and now unconscious.

We were having lunch on the patio with my boyfriend's family and friends around a big white plastic picnic table.  My roommate's comments were still bothering me and I realized that I had never had sex with my boyfriend and that since we moved into the house we barely touched anymore - there was no privacy.  So I took his hand, and when he looked at me, I kissed his forehead, eyebrows, cheeks, lips; his expression was pleasant surprise, and then we kissed for real.  Under the table where no one could see, I shifted my leg so it was against his crotch and pressed, heard him make a sharp intake and then release a moan into my kiss.  I moved against him again.  I wondered how the people around us felt and then I got lost in the slow, delicious seduction and stopped caring.

I wondered why I had waited so long. 

I woke and slept again and this time I was living in my childhood home with at least fifteen other people, some family and friends.  I was single.  The roommates and their partners shared my sister's old bedroom, I was in my own room, thankfully alone.  The bathroom she and I used to share was still full of all the things I own now; I realized that I had failed to clean it for company.  I waited impatiently through three other people's showers and discovered dildos and vibrators and lingerie still sitting out in plain sight. 

I went down to breakfast.  The small kitchen was stuffed with people and the stove had so many things going on it seemed like pots were sitting on top of pans.  I cooked an egg for myself and somehow destroyed two of someone else's eggs that were sharing the same pan.  I apologized, and tried to replace them.  It took five eggs to recreate their original breakfast because I'd drop the egg, or over cook it, or break the yolk.  The last egg to be rejected, gushed blood on opening.  I wasn't hungry after that so I gave them my egg instead.

I am awake for good now and ambulatory so it's off to the car for drugs, off to the kitchen for a glass of water, and maybe a quick check to make sure my bathroom would not be unfit for company.