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don't be touchin' my booby, biatch
Jan. 27th, 2008 10:36 amVery strange dream I had, just before I woke up this morning:
I was sitting on the floor in a small circle with some beautiful, voluptuous black women in their early 20's, all of them friends of each other, but not me. For some reason, I was sitting with my arms splayed out in front of me on my lap. An activity arose where we had to inch in and sit very close together. The women were so voluptuous that when they'd finally moved as close to me as they could, I found that my hands and arms were trapped by their flesh. Combined, they were like a warm, fleshy Venus fly trap. It was...nice, I have to admit. At the same time, I felt guilty and extremely uncomfortable. If I moved my arms, I would undoubtedly end up grazing at least four boobs, which would earn the anger and contempt of the entire group. Perhaps I'd even get an asskicking. Finally, my arms and hands started to become numb, and I knew I'd have to move or suffer the worst pins-and-needles sensation I'd ever felt. So I extracted myself from the mashup of bodies. Just as I'd predicted, the women instantly jumped on my case. "Hey, keep your hands off my titties! Don't you touch my sista that way!" and so forth. I talked my way out of it by apologizing profusely over and over again, until I had prostrated my ego completely. I was bad, they were right and good to chastise me, etc. I felt small, like a field mouse.
Sometime during all of this, I realized that I could've solved the problem via proper communication. I could've said to the group, "excuse me, but my arms seem to be trapped. Would you mind backing up for a minute so I can change positions?" Or perhaps "hey, I need to change positions, but I'm afraid I'll end up accidentally feeling y'all up". I could've avoided all that guilt and shame.
Well, that dream made its point in a really frickin' roundabout way. At least it involved being crushed against gorgeous fleshy cocoa-hued women. I suppose I can't really complain.
I was sitting on the floor in a small circle with some beautiful, voluptuous black women in their early 20's, all of them friends of each other, but not me. For some reason, I was sitting with my arms splayed out in front of me on my lap. An activity arose where we had to inch in and sit very close together. The women were so voluptuous that when they'd finally moved as close to me as they could, I found that my hands and arms were trapped by their flesh. Combined, they were like a warm, fleshy Venus fly trap. It was...nice, I have to admit. At the same time, I felt guilty and extremely uncomfortable. If I moved my arms, I would undoubtedly end up grazing at least four boobs, which would earn the anger and contempt of the entire group. Perhaps I'd even get an asskicking. Finally, my arms and hands started to become numb, and I knew I'd have to move or suffer the worst pins-and-needles sensation I'd ever felt. So I extracted myself from the mashup of bodies. Just as I'd predicted, the women instantly jumped on my case. "Hey, keep your hands off my titties! Don't you touch my sista that way!" and so forth. I talked my way out of it by apologizing profusely over and over again, until I had prostrated my ego completely. I was bad, they were right and good to chastise me, etc. I felt small, like a field mouse.
Sometime during all of this, I realized that I could've solved the problem via proper communication. I could've said to the group, "excuse me, but my arms seem to be trapped. Would you mind backing up for a minute so I can change positions?" Or perhaps "hey, I need to change positions, but I'm afraid I'll end up accidentally feeling y'all up". I could've avoided all that guilt and shame.
Well, that dream made its point in a really frickin' roundabout way. At least it involved being crushed against gorgeous fleshy cocoa-hued women. I suppose I can't really complain.
