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Before bed.
Smoked a little. Waited a couple hours before falling asleep.
Had left over Mexican food munchies before bed.

Dream recall was better. Not great, but better.
Plan on not smoking tomorrow night.

Whatever I refuse to think about IRL seems to always find its way into my dreams.
A little short of a year ago, I met an amazing person. I could tell him anything.
I could wake up at three am and tell him about my horrible nightmares,
my darkest insecurities and most shameful actions.

He moved in with me, except, I wasn't ready for the love and comfort he was giving me.
Long unnecessary story short, I chose to not have him in my life,
and I feel bad for doing that. I miss his company every day.
I could never tell him that.

So instead, I dream about him:


He moved back in with me.
He was so accepting of the things and decisions I had made.
He accepted me for everything that I was. I missed him.
I felt so comfortable in my dream. A comfort that's never been matched.
We talked a bit. [ This part got hazy. ]
I remember at one point, we laid in bed together.
He took off my pants, we laid there giggling in our underwear.
He gave me a pink band-aid, and told me to rip it in three pieces and put in on my body.
I did so, and stuck the pieces along my panty line.
I didn't question what I was doing, or why, but it felt okay.
We giggled a bit more, and then of course I can't remember the rest.