Like this:

I know, some of you are thinking I should have my ass kicked for using a song title as a blog post title (because, it’s like, SOOOOO 2004 MySpace blog, you know?)  but every now and again I like to take a song and kind of integrate it into my post.

Let’s talk about dreams, shall we?  Not dreams as in “aspirations,” dreams as in the kind you have at night while you are asleep.

About six weeks ago, I had a dream that left the above-mentioned song playing in my head for days,  and left me haunted with a desire to change my name to Ruby (out of necessity, trust me) and run off to the mountains.  Said dream actually ended up inspiring me to put some other stuff into motion in my life, but I never really figured out what it meant.

I have been terrified of dream interpretation since I called a “professional” dream decoder and spoke with her. (Live! On the radio!)  One of the now-defunct local radio stations had a show one night a week where this dream doctor took calls, and the first time I called, I got on.  The dream?  I had broken into one of my yoga teachers’ houses.  (Don’t worry, I am not into B&E at all, never done such a thing.) (At least one of you knows I am lying.) (But that was different.  I mean, I’m spoiled, and I need access to a bathtub.) (Don’t ask.)

I remember that she kept using the word “private.”  (Not “privates” because that would means something completely different.)  “Breaking in is something you do and keep a secret, it is very private” and “yoga is a very personal private thing so the fact that it is your teacher’s house means privacy fascinates you” and “I can tell you are a very private person” and somehow she got to “trust issues.”

*cue sound of record scratching to a halt*

Trust issues? Me?  Is she for real???  I am probably too trusting, I mean, how do you explain the little broken-hearted emo kid I was before the word emo even existed?  Trust issues. Pff.

But then.  I realized that maybe “trust issues” does not necessarily refer to the ability or inability to tell someone everything about myself.

(If you are under 18, you probably want to stop reading right now.) (But you won’t, especially since I said that.)  (Damn.)

1998.  I was 18 years old, just out of my freshman year of college, and in my very first apartment.  My kind-of-cute neighbor and I hung out and watched bad TV together, and sometimes his twin brother came over.  Now, I don’t remember why, but one time when Brother was not there, he told me a story about how Brother and his girlfriend would, er, perform what I considered a bizarre sex act involving nudity and a Dairy Queen Blizzard.  (Er…cold.  Sticky + outdoors = bugs.  No. Thanks.)  (No, really, I have no idea why the hell this tool told me this story.  Why didn’t I see something wrong with that back then?)  I spent the next few weeks obsessed. Not obsessed with thinking about Bro eating his Blizzard (eek!) but obsessed with the fact that apparently, these people trusted each other in a way I absolutely did not understand.  (Also, dear GOD, why did this guy tell his BROTHER this story?  Okay, I’m done now.)

So yeah, if you want to talk about that kind of trust…sure, maybe I have issues.  That makes me kind of sad, in a way, but I think it goes beyond trusting someone else enough to be kind of kinky–it has a lot to do with trusting myself. And that is something I can definitely work on.

Moral of the story?  The dream lady is always right, and please, find something else to do besides pour fake ice cream (with candy chunks in it!) on your girlfriend’s cho-cha, because that just can’t be fun.  Well…what ever gets you going, I guess…

and I never did really figure out that dream. “I’m so glad you have a one-track mind like me…”