Mmm . . .

I had a good dream last night. The kind where you lie in bed for ten minutes after the alarm goes off thinking about it, because you want to be sure you remember it. Or, I guess, the kind where I do. Other people might find it disturbing, but hell, it was my dream, and the tone of it was really nice, and a little sexy.

There was some kind event: a dance, a convention, a gathering . . . I don't know. Several days worth. The clearest thing I remember--the one I spend my ten minutes thinking about--is that I came to the head of the line, to get my membership/admission. And you could pay the admission, or . . . participate? I'm looking for the right word. There was something definitely sexual about this.

The guy taking admissions was someone I knew, and was happy to see. Oddly, it could have been Jim or Scott or neither of them . . . just someone who fit that kind of niche in my mind. And he moved something aside on the table where he was taking fees to show me a small candle in a glass jar. I knew, then, that the fee was a small amount of sensual pain, and I had always intended to pay this way. I'm a little kinky, after all. I passed my hand over the flame . . . not too much, not to actually burn, just to feel it . . . and watched him enjoy watching me.

Over the course of the several days, I kept falling in with him. Wanting him. I don't remember what happened after that, though.