The Queen and I
While sitting in the bar yesterday, I learned from a friend one must take a course in etiquette before meeting Queen Elizabeth.
Prior to yesterday, I dreamt I was to meet the Queen. Some royalty, sexy women, came to teach me the appropriate etiquette. I did not learn a damned thing, as I was distracted and aroused. I did not mind. (As I recall, one of the women liked me too and found me attractive.)
How odd to have anticipated that piece of information in a dream. Or did I learn it before I dreamt and chuck into the basement out of sight?
I can still see the royal woman who struck me most (the one who liked me, of course): thirty-something, tall, dirty blonde hair, green eyes, and an impish smile that hinted big trouble. Three cheers for big trouble.