Dream of: 06 December 1987 "Metamorphosis"
I had walked into what appeared to be the Little Theater in Portsmouth (although it didn't look like the Little Theater) and I had entered a small, cluttered room which apparently served as an office. It seemed that a play was going to be given today in the theater. It also seemed that after the play today, only one more play would be given this year, and that would be next week.
I passed my curious eyes over the room and especially noticed the many books sitting on shelves and piled haphazardly about the room. One fairly thick book containing ancient Greek literature caught my attention and I thought about glancing through it. But instead, I continued looking until I noticed a small red book which I recognized as one of a set of books which contained Latin literature. I decided I would like to read some Latin and that I would specifically like to read the Metamorphosis by the Latin writer Ovid. I saw another of the red books which I thought might be by Ovid, picked it up and opened it.
I remembered that in this particular kind of book, the original Latin writing was given on the left side of the page and the English translation on the right. But when I glanced at the first few pages, I saw only the English translation. I flipped back a few pages until I saw some Latin, and then I searched until I found where the Latin began. Apparently the first pages had just been an introduction.
I began reading the Latin and was surprised by how easy it was. I checked my understanding against the English translation and was amazed that I was doing so well, especially since it had been so long since I had read any Latin.
Only after I had read several lines did I begin to realize that this book wasn't by Ovid. I turned to the cover and saw that the author's name was Maurius. The book was obviously about history and the part I had been reading seemed to be about a king living in the year 167 A.D. On the cover of the book was an indication that this book was only one of many works in a series of history books written by this author. I reflected that I had recently decided that I didn't care that much about learning much more history. But this particular book was so easy to read, I decided I would like to take it with me.
The problem was that I was unsure I would be able to borrow it from here. I thought maybe it would be best to simply stick the book into my pants and then bring it back after I had read it without even telling anyone that I had borrowed it.
Two women (probably in their mid 30s) had walked into the room. I looked out into the hall and saw that it had begun filling with women (mostly in their 50s and 60s). The two women in the room seemed a bit impatient, as if they had something they needed to begin doing, and I felt as if they probably wanted me to leave.
One of the women left the room and only one was left sitting in a chair. She was slender, fairly attractive and was wearing a dress. While she was sitting here, I began thinking about how I might put the book (which I had laid down) in my pants without being seen by her. But the matter was complicated by the presence of a large mirror in the room. Even if the woman wasn't looking directly at me, she would be able to see me through the mirror.
Lying in the room was also a flute which I had taken from its case and had looked at. I even quietly played it a bit (before the women came into the room) and I had found it to be in good condition. I thought about piping out a few notes for the woman here, but then I simply began taking it apart to return it to its case. I briefly even considered sticking the flute in my pants, but I decided that wouldn't be a good idea.
The woman and I were together in a car which she was driving. We seemed seem to be going along LBJ Freeway in North Dallas. She finally turned to me and asked about where it was that I wanted want to be let off. She apparently was just giving me a ride. I hesitated, trying to remember, and finally I realized I had actually driven myself to the theater and that the car I had driven was sitting back there where I just left from. When I told the woman, she seemed a bit annoyed, but she immediately began looking for an exit so she could turn around and go back. She said something about being in a hurry to get somewhere and when I asked her when she had to be there, she said in half an hour. It seemed to me that she would be able to make it.
She then asked me something about the car I had left parked, something about the color of the roof of the car. For some reason she seemed to be probing me. The car I had been driving actually belonged to my mother and not me, although I didn't feel like telling the woman that. But I didn't really understand her question, which sounded a bit like a riddle, and I asked ask her to repeat it. She did so, this time more slowly, and it sounded as if she said something about sitting on the hood and something about sitting on the running board of the car. It did sound like a riddle and I simply didn't have the answer. Finally she gave me one or two more such riddles, none of which I understood. Then she turned on a cassette player which apparently had recorded what she had said and she played it back.
I was sitting in the back seat and the woman was in the front. Looking down, I noticed I was nude from the waist down, and my limp penis was clearly visible. But what most caught my attention was that the woman had laid one of her hands on my thigh just centimeters from my pubic region. In fact, the tips of her fingers were so close to my penis, it seemed that she might even have touched it once. I even thought about moving just a bit, so my penis would touch her hand.
The woman seemed so stand-offish, it seemed implausible that she would have consciously laid her hand there and I thought she might have just absent-mindedly done so. I casually mentioned that I was nude from the waist down, and she looked back at me, seeming to be shocked. She said something about my needing to lose some weight and I admitted that I needed to lose weight around my stomach. She acted as if she wasn't interested at all in me, but I noticed her glancing several times at my penis, as if she wanted to get a good look at it.
Finally I picked up her hand and held it, rubbing it fairly vigorously, and I mentioned to her how cold her hand was and that I was going to warm it for her. Indeed her hand was quite cold.
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