Well. That was… that was a dream.
something about carrying… something? to a science museum. First I had to come down a highway and cross through a parade that was just beginning. It seemed to be some sort of wild costumed bacchanalia, headed by a cat? sitting atop a tractor-pulled throne, rather like that the king of a Mardi Gras parade sits on. I kinda insinuated myself behind the first group and danced my way across the street, then ran up the maze of stairs on the outside of the museum.
going through the science museum with… something? It was an important thing that I needed to deliver to someone in the museum. I had to go in and hunt around; I had an encounter with some kids who were acting towards each other with the lack of morals that kids tend to, got directed to a place in the left-hand wing of the atrium where there were a lot of volunteers and an elevator to the level above the one I was on (which was like the second floor at least, judging from the stairs I’d come up). The volunteers were all wearing tan overshirts. I went up the elevator – which was a Jetsons tube-type thing, though actually taking the elevator and delivering my cargo was elided out.
I had to repeat that part twice. The second time I ended up lying on a table with some tubes around it? myopically trying to reconnect some kind of paper sac (that led off into a tube) to where it had come off of the fittings on the sides of the table I was on; there was a big hole in the side but I did it anyway. I was asked if there was anything I had to say about the museum and its policies, and was specifically asked if I had anything to say about things that happened the first run-through that I skipped the second. I had opinions on them but I did not say a thing about them as I felt it would be violating the causality of a normal playthrough and might possibly get me in trouble.
(Also there had been something written on the side of the landing outside the atrium; I glanced at it as I was running up the stairs but didn’t actually read it. I found myself regretting that I hadn’t read it for the next few minutes, but there was no going back.)
Then there was a lecture room? No, there was a party throughout the museum. it was night, and the city outside the windows was dark. Various people, including someone I now iRL who I shall refer to as Valerie, were there. Valerie and I wandered off down the corridor that ran around the perimeter of the place.We went about 180º around and came to a place where there were some benches and some standup video games. It was my not-so-subtly-stated intention to boff her, but she demurred. I suggested the video games since they were nearby, but she said she never played them. Then she came up with a board game that was sitting nearby. Well, not so much a board game as a game of arranging cards into a story somehow.
The box looked like some kind of small-press thing from the 60s. I’d vaguely heard of it and thought it required more than two players, but Valerie had heard of it in more detail and said that it’d be fine for two. I looked more closely at the box. It was a fairly flat cardboard box, somewhat beat up; it was white, with red printing on the front. About 6-7″ square, I think. It said it was for something like 0-8 players. I’m sure about the lower bound, but not the upper. How a game works with 0 players, I really don’t know. I was VERY slow in reading this, slow enough that Valerie got visibly frustrated. But I agreed to play.
The dream jumped from looking at the box to the story that came about. Which was weird and strange and is totally fading. I went from being in the story to lying on my back reading it; as I’d touch paragraphs of the story, they’d discolor, turning brownish.
I think the story was something about a pat of butter escaping a window and landing on a bird, who was going along some tiny railway tracks that ran all over the outside of the building the butter came from. The bird became somewhat flattened, and came off the tracks; it wafted about like a falling leaf, landed on something else and merged with it, this merged thing then wafted around off the tracks again? This might have been an embedded story that came up at a DIFFERENT point in this dream. If it was then I have no idea what the story told here was, except that it seemed VERY IMPORTANT.
Anyway, once the story was done,Valerie and I started fucking. She ended up on top, and started drooling copiously on me. At first I tried to wipe it off, but she kept on grinning at me naughtily, and I decided, well, I guess this is her kink, whatever? I closed my eyes and let her drool all over my face. She was humping against me; my cock was rubbing against her ass/my cunt was being rubbed by a thigh while at the same time she was probing into my ass. She kinda collapsed into a wet, sated heap with me after a while. We both seemed to be pretty satisfied with this sexual escapade.
Then the rest of the party wandered in. Nobody really had anything to say about our messy condition. Or the fact that I was lying there with my finger slowly sinking deeper into Valerie’s moist cunt. Until the lights dimmed and a stern, doughy-looking face was projected on the glass windows. Tonights episode of THE SHOW was about to begin. Valerie seemed very anticipatory about it. The owner of that face turned out to be some kind of policeman? government agent? who came in through the window, after it opened like a door. He hauled Valerie off, as he knew that she was this episode’s carrier of an unspecified condition/possession/plague.
It was pretty obvious that Valerie had probably passed this condition/possession/plague to me. I realized this or maybe some guy told me this. Maybe both. Anyway, me and said guy went back to a lecture room, where I might have been earlier in the dream. It was dark and empty now, but for one semisentient automaton dressed in a maid outfit. I was hiding from everyone except my acquaintance, who had gone from ‘friend’ to ‘helping under duress’. That maidbot was coming up the stairs; I hid in a shadow as it left. I had plans for what would happen next, but they were interrupted when a fat woman in a wheelchair came in and wanted to get something from a seat near the back, where we were. I hid behind a square concrete pillar, trying to remain out of her view, and out of sight from the hallway. It gets a bit confusing here; she got her stuff and left, then either changed into a different, skinny woman who seemed to be nearly a vegetable, or left as said near-vegetable appeared.
Anyway, now I was alone in a dark lecture room with a skinny woman who seemed to not really be there at all, mentally, and my male acquaintance who I was forcing to help me. I’m not sure why, but we got this woman to lock her knees at 90º, then strapped her into some kind of cube and rolled the cube down the hall. While doing this, we praised her for being a good, compliant submissive. I kid you not.
Then I woke up. I don’t know what the fuck to think about all this.
Well, one thing. I think I need to start warding my bedroom again, after a string of unsettling dreams like that. They stopped cold the last time I was having regular unsettling, unpleasantly-erotic dreams and pulled out the magic wand; the Skeptic is not sure what to think about this, but shrugs and says “well I stopped having bad dreams” and shuts up while the Magician gets on with her work.