We are near the Hollywood sign around sundown and the glow from the city and from the sign light the sky. As we walk toward the sign, we see a first trail that leads from LACMA, and a second trail that comes from over in West Hollywood. There are canals/streams with water running and grasses and trees and we see a cross-dresser on the far side of the canal. We keep going. I’m with a beautiful young African American woman I don’t know, though it could be Sandra. Then I find myself at a yoga conference/social party. I’ve gained enough success and notoriety that people recognize me and know my name. They don’t approach me directly, but one server tells me they know who I am.
I am doing yoga. We’re in a very interesting place, part shopping mall, part county fair. When I do certain yoga poses I start to spin and twirl in the air and I can’t stop. I’ll stop momentarily in a handstand, balanced on a railing or a chair, and then roll and transition into other poses.
A man is snuggling me and kissing my neck. He’s married. I’m feeling turned on, but I don’t want things to go any further. Somehow I wriggle away and go on spinning and landing in yoga postures. I pass a pen – literally like a livestock pen – with a metal fence and there are many people practicing various poses. Someone asks me to be her academic advisor but in the back of my mind I know I’m not qualified.
I wake up with my arms over my head. My husband is getting out of bed.
anonymous
No comments:
Post a Comment