I walk into a small quaint living room and my eyes instantly stumble upon a Latina in her early twenties relaxing on a plush loveseat across from me. Her gaze locks with mine and rather than being surprised or alarmed at my sudden presence, she tilts her head and smiles, as if expecting me. I sheepishly grin back before speaking or approaching her. My mind holds down the scan-forward button of my memory as too many frames to count per second hurtle through my head. I can't remember. I can't remember how I know this girl. . . I pause one last time before deciding to just ask her. With each step closer to her, I try to remember again, wringing my mind like a sponge one last time to get any drips of memory that might not have been squeezed out before. To no avail. As I muster up my voice to ask her why she looks so familiar, a husky man slams opens a door on my right, rushing towards me.
As I am being tackled and flung to the floor, my mind settles an agreement with logic, signing the affidavit. Terms- Do not mess with this girl. Condition- Well, I'm getting conditioned right now. I look over my shoulder to explain to this man I was just going to talk to the girl, when I receive a sharp slap from reality . . . The man holding me doesn't have a face! I could make out the shape of his head along with his almost bic-ed hair, but I could see no actual features on his face: No nose; no eyes; no mouth. The face resembles more like the smooth surface of a brown egg shell. Realization sinks further in, providing me with relief, like an anchor finally getting thrown to help damper the uncontrollable movements of a boat trapped in turbulent waters. I now know this is only a dream. That would explain everything from my abrupt entrance to this strange face-less man.
I try to will myself awake as the man keeps me debilitated on the floor. I feel like an oriental rug pinned by four legs of a heavy mahogany table. Then I feel a sharp sensation on the middle part of my spine. The pressure steadily increases and the girl on the couch starts to whimper, pleading the man to stop. As the pain builds, I start to second guess myself- perhaps this really isn't a dream. Then the pressure is released for a split second before I feel an intense blow on my spine. My back feels like it's been snapped like a dry twig in mid-autumn. My body shudders as I wake up, sitting up quickly in bed.
Even though logic tries to soothe me, whispering what just happened was only a dream, my mind adamantly refuses to listen, shunning everything. My hands quickly dart to my back to check for any possible damage that might have incurred. I move my back in various positions before admitting to myself it really WAS only a dream.
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Ever have those times where you catch yourself slipping in your dream, and with a shudder, you wake up? That usually happens to me, but this dream was so different. It was so vivid and real. I have felt my heart knocking against the door of my chest after dreams I have had before, but this time, I felt my heart violently pounding away. Is this how some people die in their sleep? Dreams cannot outwardly kill you, but can they somehow attack you inwardly? Can your body respond so greatly to a dream that a heart attack can be induced? Interesting to think about, or maybe not. . . There's enough to worry about when we're awake. heh
Okay, I must apologize for that random bout. Let's go on to something more familiar, shall we? EYE CANDY ! ! ! I feel like a kid sharing his sweettarts with others. This next featured candy was a Hawaiian Tropic contestant. I'm not sure if she won or not, but good lo, she looks good. She also models for cars, not at import events, but rather for shoots with cars like in calendars, posters, and such. Here is the eye massagin Celeste.
Celeste
Celeste
