I dreamed I had a pretty impressive weed garden, but it was on my father in law's property. We had a previous agreement that it was ok, so I was quite upset to find that one day he had ripped out all of the plants for what appeared to be no reason.
I confronted him about it, but first I had to wait through one of his interminably long stories. Then he proceeded to give me the long and convoluted reasoning behind his destruction of my garden, which infuriated me. It had to do with taxes and soil depletion, not even so much to do with the whole old school anti-pot reasoning that I was expecting.
I told him it would have been nice if he'd discussed it with me, as the plants were only days away from harvesting. I began scheming my next garden, which was oddly to be located at 2814 3rd. St. in Santa Monica.
Somewhere else in time, a girl who I was seeing socially (and by socially, I mean sexually) was demanding a threesome. That much might have been ok to my sex-starved dream sensibilities, but it was the way in which she demanded it that almost, just for a second, put me off. The yelling, the screaming, the nagging, the getting down on all fours, stripped and self-flagellating.
Ok, ok...I can see I'm going to have to address a few of my less than subconscious issues in therapy. If my shrink ever decides to start keeping her appointments.
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.