I had a really weird dream,
last night,
I dreamt,
I was watching,
The Partridge family.
Bizarre.
I wasn’t a child,
I was me,
middle aged,
bookish butch.
They were singing,
I Think I love You.
Anyone remember,
that song?
I think I love you so what am I so afraid of
I’m afraid that I’m not sure of a love there is no cure for
I think I love you isn’t that what life is made of
Though it worries me to say that I never felt this way
I haven’t watched,
The Partridge Family,
in minimum,
thirty years,
I never really liked,
David Cassidy.
Susan Dey,
on the other hand,
oh yeah,
love big jawed women,
always did,
can’t explain it,
don’t want to.
But, really,
why would I be dreaming,
of watching,
The Partridge Family?
If my subconscious,
is attempting communication,
with me,
it’s doing a crap job,
I don’t get it,
mixed signals.
Hum,
…..
wait a minute.
…..
Mixed signals,
I am queen of,
mixed signals,
sending, receiving,
I wonder if that’s a girl thing,
or a dyke thing,
or a butch thing,
maybe,
it’s none of the above,
and it a,
me thing.
I have a pattern,
I feign insouciance,
and then,
I think,
she’ll think,
I don’t like her,
so I make a flashy,
too flashy,
statement.
I go from no sell,
to big sell,
to soft sell,
to last chance,
quasi belligerent sell,
and back to insouciance,
and butch understanding.
Idiot.
No wonder,
women flee me,
I’m nuts:-)
David Cassidy is telling me,
next time,
tell her you think you love her,
right?
David Cassidy as oracle,
obviously,
I watched too much television,
as a child.
Oh,
and I have to stop eating oranges,
before bed.
Strange dreams and interpretations,
ensue.
This is actually a real dream,
I need to read erotica or something,
my dreams suck:-)
Later girls,
BB
