Dream Description/Apology. (I Might Be Developing Crossdressing Tendencies.)

We were in bed half-clothed
with our legs locked together.
My face
was burried in
your shoulder notch,
while you skimmed
your fingertips
through the hairs
on the back of
my head.
I pulled away
to look at you,
tears start welling up
in the folds of
my eyes.
Your hand
raised, waving
back and forth
in front of
my face,
saying,
"No! Wait!, not yet."
before it wipes a tear
from of the corner of
my eye.
The tear
smeared on the outside of
your index finger.
Then you picked up a tube of mascara
off the bed stand,
and started applying it to
my eyes/eyelashes.
I didn't object.
Or try to stop you.
I just let it happen
because it seemed like
you knew what you
were doing.
"Boys/men don't know how
to cry because thevy've been
told not to their entire lives
because they're supposed
to be tough.
So fucking tough.
Even though you're
all a bunch of pussies,
yourself included."
You finished the last streak,
and kissed me on the forehead.
"Beautiful. You're ready to go
whenever you feel like it.
Your physical appearance
has to match
your inner appearance,
which is why
you have to look like a fucking mess
when you cry."
So I did.
I looked like a fucking mess.
Black watery lines started crisscrossing
across my cheeks down to my chin.
You drew abstract images with them.
I instanstly believed what you had to say
and felt better;
I didn't need a mirror
to see recovery.
"I should do your make-up more often.
I mean you have a lot to learn,
and I have a lot to teach.
Once you get this down,
we can move on to dresses,
lingerie, shoes, accessorizing,
and how to protect yourself from getting robbed
by kicking your assailent in the balls.
Plus, it'd be hot if we both made out in real glossy lipstick.
Hahaha"
We laughed, hugged, kissed,
and then i woke up in my bedroom alone
900 miles away from you
wondering if I am developing crossdressing tendencies.

"I'm sorry for being a shithead for the past week. I love you. And yeah, I'm in serious need of a makeover. How's Thursday sound?"

An Interpretation For A Lucid Dream Someone Told Me About In A Letter Written On The Coolest Stationary I've Ever Seen.

 

In your dream, you said we were behind the waterfall at world’s end state park, and that the roar of the water was loud enough that we had to cup our hands around the other person’s ear, and speak directly into it.

I wanted to know what we said to each other.

You said you couldn’t hear because you had a bird’s eye view, and can’t control those aspects of your dreams.

But I want to know what you thought we said.

Because here’s what I think:

We are behind the waterfall, and it’s winter.

A sheet of ice has enclosed the ledge we are sitting on—the only opening in the ice is where the flow is.

Looking through the wall of frozen water, distorts our perception of the horizon in front of us causing it to look otherworldly.

The sun hits the sheet, which creates a chandelier like effect on the enclosed ledge behind the waterfall.

Dots of white light are dancing across both of our faces illuminating every color we have to offer.

You lean in, and cup your hands around my ear, putting your mouth in the opening your hands create, “Is it always like this?”

I cup my hands around your ear and do the same, “No. It’s never been enclosed like this. It feels like a little house.”

“We should move in. Just drop everything and live here until we die. Our bodies will be taken downstream like boats on the surface of the water until we assimilate back into nature.”

“The greatest funeral ever.”

There is no entrance or exit, and I can’t explain how we got in, but we don’t feel trapped.

The ice is growing causing the cavity to shrink around us, and starts to include parts of us in it.

It slowly crawls up our boots, and then starts on the rest of our legs.

It doesn’t feel cold, but warm like a blanket.

It feels natural like the skin covering our bodies.

I cup my hand around your ear, “Are you okay with this?”

You cup your hand around my ear, and say, “Yes.”

Relax.

Our fingers interlock and instantly freeze together, fusing into a single body part.

You run your free hand through my hair, as I look into your eyes.

We kiss.

Then I put my head on your shoulder before we listen to the sound of our heartbeats disappear, drowned out by the white noise of the rushing water.

When we thaw out in 700 years, everything and everyone we know will be dead, which means the only responsibilities we will have are each other.

You’re getting up right now, 900 miles away, as I’m falling asleep.

We’ve never met in person, but I hope you read this before you go to work.