She Is So Drop Dead Gorgeous
Last night, I dreamed of a black horse. Upon waking, I
looked in the dictionary of dreams I keep in my bedside
table, to see if there is any significance to this
particular nighttime vision.
It seems a dream of a black horse is a dream of passion.
Considering all that has happened in the past weeks, I am
not surprised.
Three weeks ago, I had a dream about a girl.
She was so drop dead gorgeous.
Since three AM, I have been searching through my dictionary
of dreams for other references to a black horse, looking at
my notes. Dawn is near, I must decide and make plans.
I need to understand why I have had this particular vision
in the form of a dream. The continuous rattling of her
chains in the bedroom will not distract me. The sounds of
the trains are soothing.
The black horse has to be an omen, but the passion has been
so wonderful. We, she and I have a thing together.
I know it. And her eyes tell me that this is true.
For the past two weeks everything has been so serene. And
now this black horse shows up again in my dreams.
She is so drop dead beautiful.
Why does she so try to distract me with that noise? Perhaps
I need to hogtie her with the ropes again. And then again I
think it was the head harness-training gag that really made
her attitude come around to my kind of thinking.
But I will not let my attention wean, I need to read my
notes and review my dictionary of dreams. Yes here is the
one from two weeks ago, when I first saw her. My earlier
dream told me that she should be naked.
When I first dreamt of her black hair, the dictionary of
dreams told me to beware of the she-devil. The dictionary
told me that she would get me into trouble.
But when I first saw her on the street later that
afternoon, I knew that the dictionary was wrong. Her long
black hair seemed to wave at me, telling me that she would
love to be mine.
I could have easily used an out of body experience to find
out where she lived. But the day was nice, so I decided
that I would just follow her. The subway she took was
crowded and I was hungry.
She lived on the west end of 114th street, near Quincy, on
the third floor, apartment 309. The building was quiet. I
knew I would have to be careful, better to wait. Perhaps a
dream would tell me what to do.
She was so drop dead gorgeous. And she glanced at me on the
subway. I knew then that the magic was there between us.
But the dictionary of dreams had told me to be careful,
that she was trouble. It was only much later that I dreamed
about the black horse.
I stole a sandwich from the grocer on the corner and
watched her window as I ate. People in this part of town
have no respect. I hated how they looked at me. So I jumped
the subway turnstile on the way home.
That part of the city is so congested. It took me four days
to get my van parked in exactly the right place in the
alley next to her building. I was beginning to think that
the grocer was getting suspicious of me. I was also
beginning to worry about how I was going to be able to
steal gas in this crowed part of town.
I fell asleep in my van during the late afternoon. I
dreamed about this girl. She wouldn't talk to me.
But climbing the outside three floors of a brick building
at night is not so hard. My fingers are very tenacious. In
the springtime at night, above the second floor they almost
always leave a window open.
*************************************************
Back at my crib that next morning, I had my first dream of
that black horse. We were riding hard. But I didn't
understand.
I was so hot that first morning after that dream when I
woke up. She was so soft and warm, and I woke up hungry.
I at first feared that aliens might have possibly implanted
sensors in her body, but my explorations to date have not
found any.
But I need to be careful, and through.
Three days ago, in the morning just before I woke up was
when I dreamed and heard the sounds of the black horse,
neighing and whinnying. It weirded me out so bad.
I am glad that I live next to the railroad tracks, most
sounds are impossible to decipher outside my room.
I'm sure that she heard the sounds of the horse too, since
she was so frantic when I fucked her that morning.
The dictionary says a black horse is a dream of passion. We
are an item, she and I. She is so drop dead gorgeous.
Yesterday, I decided that I should comb out her hair, just
as I would a black horse's mane. But her hair was so
tangled that I had to cut most of it off. And she was so
pretty with that long black hair.
Last night I again dreamed of the black horse, but it
wouldn't let me ride. It tried to buck me off. I woke up in
the middle of the night, hungry and mad. I just had to get
out of that room. It was for the best.
While walking the streets of the city in the middle of the
night, I tried to imagine what a black horse might feel
like if it was wearing a steel collar with its neck chained
to a wall. And an ankle chained to the opposite wall.
I stole a cheese sandwich from the all night deli around
the corner from the movie theater. Cheese is cheap, they
charge way too much for them anyway.
But I am still hungry, and unfulfilled. I have been
thinking very hard about the black horse and my dictionary
of dreams.
Tonight, or as soon as I can, I am going to get her back
into my van and we are going to drive to Nebraska.
Once there, we are going to find a real black horse in a
great big pasture.
And then we can really ride, she and I.
She is so drop dead gorgeous.
Who says that dreams can't come true?
