Convention,The Earth Moved

        This morning’s dream was a convoluted convention dream, part movie style (watching from a series of camera positions) and then POV participant style. I was at an after party at a convention. The party was quickly turning into an orgy of sorts. The cameras seemed to be following a young woman, with Sandy Duncan haircut and a gold silk shirt and matching pants, very pajama-like. She made her excuses and left the party with me. We wandered the halls a bit , talking about various Science Fiction stories and shows, until an earthquake hit.

        The Hotel loudspeakers came to life, advising everyone to stay in their rooms. There were shots from outside the hotel showing the large cracks forming in the plaster façade. We bounced around a bit.

        I offered to escort the woman back to her room. She admitted that she didn’t have one, which was why she had originally ended up at the all night party. She just couldn’t stay there, though.

        I offered her the other bed in my room. After sizing me up for a bit she accepted. We made our way out of the hotel and over to my hotel. It was difficult, as we had to run up some stair cases to get over to other staircases. This seemed to go on for quite some time.

        By the time we got to my room we were both tired. We ended up sitting across from one another, she fired a six-pack of Champaign party poppers at me, and then I fired a nerf gun, a full eight darts, at the mirror on the wall behind her bed.

        There then came the spraying of whipped cream and eating it off the other person’s elbows, then cheeks, then I sprayed her nose and tickled it with the end of my tongue.  She then sprayed my lips, and kissed me after pulling the cream into her mouth.

        I shot a dollop of whipped cream on her neck, and she unbuttoned her top a bit so I could get to it easier. The next dollop was on her clavicle, hers on my earlobe. We didn’t end up sleeping in separate beds after all.

        “This isn’t like me,” she tried to explain.

        “It’s exactly like you, if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t want to be with you right now.”

        “What happens after this?”

        “Three more days of the convention, you’re welcome to crash here, no requirements, no expectations other than staying out of my stuff, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

        “Even this?” She pulled out on the waistband of her silk pants.

        “Well, with permission.”

Ad astra per technica,

FF