2000-08-12 | 06:04:15

thoughts of desert storm loom in my head.

the last entry in my parade of ex's is diddling around in my cranium.

a couple of you nictator love muffins have given me props on my current spate of love and hate. the only catch? i only have one more boyfriend to dish on.

pressure! yikes! i'm gonna have to start manufacturing relationships in fear of losing readership! hee hee. what a glory ho, i am, i am.

whoa. what if i was to start a relationship purely to generate diaryland fodder? hee haw! i'm liking it.

so anyway, all this thinking about desert storm created a critical mass of some kind or 'tother, because i had a dream about him the other night.

yes, a dream.

i understand that rebecca romijn-stamos uses swoon.com to decipher her dreams. perhaps i should do the same. in many ways, i can see patterning my life after rrs's to be a good idea. i mean, i'd like to marry a former general hospital actor who hangs with bob saget. how dreamy is that?

so, speaking of dreamy...

the scene was some kind of swap meet or concert or something. a lot of people milling about. i can't remember how it happened, but desert storm and i ran into each other in the crowd.

it was one of those things where he didn't really look like him, but it was him. at the beginning of the dream, he had floppy, chin-length hair. at the end, his head was shaved. this may have some meaning. rebecca? what are your thoughts?

so, he and i talk. he tells me he is doing well and then relates some stories of his ex-girlfriends. it ends up that he has had three since we broke up, at least in the dream. i have had none. so in my dream, i'm getting kinda intimidated. damn. he's gone out with all these girls. hmpf!

so then he was all flirting and we were making eyes at each other, but he was in a relationship during the dream, so we bid our goodbyes. i went over to find my purse, which i had stashed under a grandstand or something. it was there, but empty. someone had taken my wallet. ahhhhhh! panic. wake up.

so. the whole hair transition, the contrast of his dating successes versus my zilcho successes, the empty purse? what what?

i'm thinking the purse thing relates to me feeling that i lost some of my identity in that relationship. and that he stole from me, at least emotionally speaking. i was a crime victim in the jurisdiction of love.

i guess the dating successes contrast is just a matter of insecurity on my part. like one of my friends said when she and her boyfriend broke up recently: "i'm sure he's out dating supermodels now. i just know it."

ah well, i will soon exorcise my desert storm demons onto an unsuspecting diaryland.

my wad will have been shot. the jiz, i mean, jig, will be up.

will you still love me? will you still need me? and more importantly, will you still feed me?

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