a dream about igrayne

LAST NIGHT I DREAMT of Igrayne, we went to some kind of art cinema in Tallinn’s Old Town, you know the kind, with walls painted black, folding chairs. Igrayne likes to wave her hands around when she talks, and then puts them on her hips, to feign disgust and outrage. She has long light-colored hair and is not afraid of donning a miniskirt. Her hair used to be some natural color. Now it’s? Something else. Pink? Platinum? Bottle yellow? It’s fun to watch Igrayne communicate. Her violent words spurt out like free jazz, peppered with slang, salted with broken English. She thought the film was terrible shit, and was annoyed for having to even endure it, but I told her that it had some merits. Then we had a nice wet kiss and it seemed to resolve her internal conflicts about the setting and the scenery. Afterwards we were on a school bus together, during which time she went down on me. That was a real pleasure. Later, I received word that my mother would be flying in to visit. We were to meet in Abja, which is a little nothing town on the southern Estonian frontier opposite Latvia, but which looked a lot like Cutchogue, Long Island, in the dream. I couldn’t figure out which way the plane was flying, and I didn’t know if I was supposed to go to the airport, or would she come herself? To make matters worse, there was some kind of photoshoot for a magazine in Abja, and I arrived on time, only to discover it had been cancelled, and found myself wandering around a hotel at the “beach,” the Abja Hotel, which was set back within a nest of pines along the sea. At some point, I meandered into a party where Esta introduced me to an old university friend, who was a beautiful woman with smooth tan legs and blonde hair and a birdlike chirp of a voice. A rather comical type this one. I remember that, and that she was very sweet and welcoming and her legs were very smooth, and thought, why not, you can be my new partner then, then scooped her up in my arms like King Kong and away we went. It was a glorious homecoming, us together. A triumphant return.

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