Saturday, July 20, 2013


The people in my dreams are having more fun than I am! 


I had a dream this morning (I sleep late) about my teen-aged years boyfriend Bill Reilly whom I dated when we were sixteen. He was so amazingly handsome -- dark curly hair and beautiful blue eyes. And he was the most amazing kisser.

In this dream he was living with a wife in a house with tenants that wanted to rent my childhood home. After we recognized each other, Bill came to see me. 

We had, in this dream, the most wonderful making-love-session. Make that sessions.

It turned out Bill was as wonderful at this dream sex as he'd been at kissing back in 1960. 

He arranged the rental and the people in his house moved into my parents' house. Of course, it was in my old hometown Cheverly. 

His wife became suspicious and then jealous. We met at at a seminar someplace and she was very angry at me.

I found out later that Bill was having sex with a whole bunch of women and was, as a matter of fact, a sex addict. And he didn't go to Sex-Addicts-Anonymous. My gain. 

After the tenants moved into Mom and Dad's house and Bill went someplace unknown  leaving me AND his wife, I realized I was driving around Cheverly all alone. None of my old friends were there anymore. I had no place to go to discuss my broken-heart! Not even a relative.

I drove past my old house and saw the new family having dinner in the front yard. No place for me there. I drove up Dewey Street hill but saw no one I knew.

I went to a crowded restaurant on a second floor in some building that never existed. It had low ceilings and was filled with round tables. The place was full. No one knew me. They sat me behind a column facing a wall. No one came to take my order so I picked up my cell phone and left, indignant.
When I woke up after this dream, I loved and full of joy. I regretted that I'd never had this wonderful a time when Bill and I were teenagers. My loss. Believe it or not, I wanted to, but he didn't. It had something to do with religion.

Last time I saw Cheverly it was still eerily unchanged. The houses and well-kept yards are all the same and full of different people. The older generation have all passed away. And the young people who passed into adulthood are old and someplace else. 

Bill was swept away in the VietNam war.

I still miss him. 

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