I'm gonna see if I can make this a habit. Truly, this one was too real for me to not right about.
So, I'm at a party...so far, so good. Against my nature, I'm chilling in this side bedroom at the party, being all anti-social. I'm on the bed in this room, reading a magazine (I do believe it was Wax Poetics) and listening to the muffled music. On this bed, is someone else's laundry. Whether it's clean or dirty, I'm not sure. I know this part is rooted in reality, because I'm currently sleeping with my laundry. Yes, it has been established that I'm a slob, so shutthefuckup.
Two sistas suddenly appear at the head of the bed (where I'm trying to read), just chillin', discussing whom they've been fucking. I'm doing my best to avoid them...and the laundry.
Then comes one of those grand leaps of time that only makes sense in dream. I'm still in the room, but there are more people in there with me. The room has become the party's hangout spot. I'm still dedicated to my magazine. Wow, I'm such a fucking nerd.
Anyway, the sistas were replaced by two ladies I've known for a while (but don't know of each other), and they're both fine. They're talking, I'm reading.
Suddenly, one of them starts coming on to me, trying to remove my pants. It seems they're both bored, so logically, I can help them out (hey, my eyes are rolling at that...). As much as I'm digging this (big time), I start to protest, saying that "I'm practically married", and I go back to reading my magazine, even though I'm aroused and flustered. In my discombobulated state, I'm back at the head of the bed, no longer avoiding the laundry strewn about...reading. In my peripheral vision, the instigator of the aborted ménage à trois is getting dressed (she disrobed?!? ), telling the other participant that they should break out from this boring scene. I figure she should be cursing me out, but she's not. I'm probably taking control of the dream at this point. This is followed by a montage of voices and faces telling me that I should've "gone for it". I leave the party, which seems to be in some set of cookie cutter townhouses, and my dream suddenly switches to watching Howard Stern perform a set of reckless stunts on playground equipment. Yeah, I don't get that either.
I guess I'm finding the fact that I said "no" to the fucking interesting. It's somewhat out of character, I guess. Otherwise, y'all would've never heard this...I don't dream kiss and tell.