...
It's nearly one ayem and it's only dropped down to 72º... but that means maybe by dawn I'll stop being so uncomfortable... or... whatever....
I've spent the last fifteen or so hours trying to remember all the dreaming I was doing last night, but, mostly, the only thing that is sticking firmly enough was my encounter with ultimate love. Suddenly I was in his lap, with my arms and legs around him, melting with the essential imperative to kiss him, to be kiss him, when he was somehow, though we had our clothes on, about to insert himself and I was beyond completely down with this new twist, but instead of thrusting in, he retracted into his pants.
A split second's disappointment, a vague flash of to-be-continued, and then back into a sort of mishmash of relative encounters in rooms and absolute floating and flitting between parts of structures, remnants, and dips into rooms and relatives and back out. I was sort of monitoring all this, somehow, but the only other thing that feels certain about it was that I was very heavily engaged in putting something drastically akimbo into a new and beneficent order.
I feel extremely solid with that. As solid as am with Mister Perfect Love, who, my goodness, was someone I know and love more than my marrow, but... I can't say for certain who he is. He seemed to be Mikey, but... not really... as though he was visiting in a Mikey suit... incognito... so as not to knock me off my pins....
Utterly marvelous as that was, the reordering of the relative and absolute problem was so important and I am bugged that I can't quite put my finger on it in any nuanced way... not even in the not-language that I use for knowing things important... yet.
always and any time....
