I had the most ridiculous erotic dream about WMFH last night. I am only mentioning it here because the bizarre degrees of Jungian* weirdness are amazing.
Cut for those who don’t really want to read this (I keep it PG-13, I promise)
We are in the classroom. He is dressed as H.P. Lovecraft (a dark brown tweedy 20s era suit, high collar, bowler hat) and I am sitting on the edge of a desk wearing, of all things, a Little Bo Peep costume. Seriously. Big ol’ ruffly skirt, puffy sleeves, full metal Peep. I begin to recite “Der Erlkönig” with a cheeky, flirtatious expression on my face and slowly start to pull my Bo Peep skirt up, exposing a pair of ruffled bloomers. He crawls under my skirt… and I will spare you the details of what happens next, but I am sure you can guess. During all of this, I am still trying to recite the poem, but I get confused and it turns into “Against Idleness and Mischief” (“how doth the little busy bee…”), which, as it did for Alice, keeps turning into “”How Doth the Little Crocodile”, much to my frustration. He’s still… occupied (and doing a bang up job of it, I must say) and I decide to just give up on the damn poem and enjoy the entertainment. We then immediately shrink down to the size mice and are floating on a raft in the middle of a vast sea. We are having sex in a very unhurried and pleasant way when he just looks at me and says, “You are adorable, my little chicken pot pie!”. I then wake up and wonder what the fuck just happened. Seriously, I felt like I took a trip down the rabbit hole with that one.
*Fuck Freud, that misogynistic coked out closet case.