Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I was watching a video of a new space capsule. It had already launched into space, and it was traveling above the earth, but it was apparently joining up with two lower segments, which were like the rockets that would have propelled it into space. But I knew that the capsule needed to join up with these rockets. Perhaps it was preparing for a flight farther out into space.
I now stood on earth, on some wide tarmac area between two large, warehouse-like buildings. I heard a narrator say that I should watch how well the new space rocket prepared for its flight. The narrator may have said that the rocket was already ready for its flight.
Suddenly a silvery spaceship, kind of like a 1950s sci-fi conception of a spaceship, blasted downward, skimmed along the ground, then blasted back upward. As the ship blasted upward, two lower, rocket-like devices flew upward to join onto the bottom of the spaceship. I could see, as the spaceship quickly reached dizzying heights, how the rockets had already linked up with the spaceship.
Dream #2
I was in a hospital waiting room. I had probably just seen a psychiatrist, but I had been sitting around in the waiting room, anyway. I now stood up to leave.
As I was passing through the doorway, a scraggly, young man handed me a red lighter. I really didn't want to take it, but I felt like I probably should, since the young man had offered it to me. The young man walked through the waiting room and went to see his psychiatrist.
I walked back into the waiting room. I breathed in through the top of the lighter. I felt smoke fill my lungs. I suddenly knew that the lighter was full of crystal meth, and that I had just inhaled some of it.
At first, I felt angry with myself, that I had let the scraggly, young man pressure me into taking the lighter and smoking the meth. But now I was just afraid. I didn't want the meth to take effect on me. I didn't know what it would do to me. I slowly walked back out of the waiting room, monitoring everything about myself, so I could be prepared for whatever bad effects the meth would have on me.
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
south african spy; drug dealing spy family; science fiction interview
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
A man -- who was also I, even though I wasn't seeing from the man's point of view, but from a view only 20cm or so from the man's face and directed toward the man. The man may have been black, with a light complexion, short-shaved hair, and a muscular body.
The man was a spy. He had traveled to a few cities around the world on a few different missions. He was now in a hotel, possibly in South Africa. The hotel was kind of dingy, with old-looking, concrete or white stone walls. But it was supposed to be a high-class hotel.
The man lay down in his bed. He pulled a cell phone up to his ear. He explained to his bosses how he'd been trailed through the city. He said that he was certain people now knew who he was.
The bosses told the man that everything was alright. The bosses said they'd send another agent to meet the man in just a couple hours. The man was to meet with the agent the bosses sent at a specific restaurant or cafe in the city.
The man hung up the phone. He understood that the bosses were laying a trap for the man. Since the man had been spotted, he was no longer a good agent. Since the bosses had no use for an agent that was no longer any good, they were going to kill the man. The man knew he needed to escape the city before the agents who were sent to kill him came after him.
The man went into the bathroom and pulled a huge Ziploc bag full of some material out of a suitcase. He may have pulled another bag full of something else out of the suitcase. The man was now apparently ready to leave the hotel and find a way out of the city.
Dream #2
I was in a nice, big hotel suite with a few young looking, beautiful, Latina girls. The girls were dressed casually, in kind of baggy t-shirts and ponytails. They were really skinny.
The girls were either spies or drug dealers. I had been working with them. But now I had just finished telling them I could no longer work with them. I was standing in the bathroom with one of the girls, right after I'd told her I was quitting. The girl was kneeling down, like she was tying her shoes or something, and I was petting her pale brown hair.
We now all stood out in the main room. A big window let in a lot of daylight. We were on a high floor in the hotel. The main room almost looked like the living room of a long-lived-in apartment: it even had a really lovely book collection along the left wall.
The girls' father was in the room. He was a kind of heavyset, rough-faced man with a dark olive complexion and full, but wiry, salt and pepper hair. He wore a tweed jacket, button up shirt, and nice slacks of a kind of heavy fabric.
The girls told their father that I could no longer work with them. I was afraid to hear the father's reaction. I thought the father would get angry and kill me. I was about to tell the father that I didn't exactly mean I couldn't work with the girls, that I was only thinking that maybe I should try to do something else.
Dream #3
I was in a big hotel suite. I was with the cast of The Chronic Rift, an old pop culture review show on New York City cable access in the 1990s. The cast was all sat out in their usual forum style in the main room of the suite. I had just walked from another room, like the kitchen or bathroom, into the main room.
The show may just now have been ending. There were now a couple of pop culture industry guests sitting out with the cast. The cast and the guests were talking back and forth about some element of science fiction writing.
One of the guests may have been tall, pale, and young-looking, even though I had a feeling he was older and far more experienced than I. The man wore a yellow t-shirt and a white cap, like Fred Lebow's old running cap. The man knew I should be interested in the topic everybody was discussing. But I wasn't contributing to the discussion at all. This annoyed the man, like he thought I was simply being lazy.
I was now getting the feeling that it was too late for me to contribute to the discussion: everybody seemed to be getting ready to get up and leave. But for some reason I did say something. It was really hard for me to speak, and whatever I said came out kind of confused.
The tall guest and the other guest stayed seated in order to answer my question. I think they were disappointed at my question: they may have expected a more complex question from me. But I think they took the time to answer my question in the hope that their answer would lead me to ask a more complex question. It was like I was somehow known for asking really penetrating questions.
Dream #1
A man -- who was also I, even though I wasn't seeing from the man's point of view, but from a view only 20cm or so from the man's face and directed toward the man. The man may have been black, with a light complexion, short-shaved hair, and a muscular body.
The man was a spy. He had traveled to a few cities around the world on a few different missions. He was now in a hotel, possibly in South Africa. The hotel was kind of dingy, with old-looking, concrete or white stone walls. But it was supposed to be a high-class hotel.
The man lay down in his bed. He pulled a cell phone up to his ear. He explained to his bosses how he'd been trailed through the city. He said that he was certain people now knew who he was.
The bosses told the man that everything was alright. The bosses said they'd send another agent to meet the man in just a couple hours. The man was to meet with the agent the bosses sent at a specific restaurant or cafe in the city.
The man hung up the phone. He understood that the bosses were laying a trap for the man. Since the man had been spotted, he was no longer a good agent. Since the bosses had no use for an agent that was no longer any good, they were going to kill the man. The man knew he needed to escape the city before the agents who were sent to kill him came after him.
The man went into the bathroom and pulled a huge Ziploc bag full of some material out of a suitcase. He may have pulled another bag full of something else out of the suitcase. The man was now apparently ready to leave the hotel and find a way out of the city.
Dream #2
I was in a nice, big hotel suite with a few young looking, beautiful, Latina girls. The girls were dressed casually, in kind of baggy t-shirts and ponytails. They were really skinny.
The girls were either spies or drug dealers. I had been working with them. But now I had just finished telling them I could no longer work with them. I was standing in the bathroom with one of the girls, right after I'd told her I was quitting. The girl was kneeling down, like she was tying her shoes or something, and I was petting her pale brown hair.
We now all stood out in the main room. A big window let in a lot of daylight. We were on a high floor in the hotel. The main room almost looked like the living room of a long-lived-in apartment: it even had a really lovely book collection along the left wall.
The girls' father was in the room. He was a kind of heavyset, rough-faced man with a dark olive complexion and full, but wiry, salt and pepper hair. He wore a tweed jacket, button up shirt, and nice slacks of a kind of heavy fabric.
The girls told their father that I could no longer work with them. I was afraid to hear the father's reaction. I thought the father would get angry and kill me. I was about to tell the father that I didn't exactly mean I couldn't work with the girls, that I was only thinking that maybe I should try to do something else.
Dream #3
I was in a big hotel suite. I was with the cast of The Chronic Rift, an old pop culture review show on New York City cable access in the 1990s. The cast was all sat out in their usual forum style in the main room of the suite. I had just walked from another room, like the kitchen or bathroom, into the main room.
The show may just now have been ending. There were now a couple of pop culture industry guests sitting out with the cast. The cast and the guests were talking back and forth about some element of science fiction writing.
One of the guests may have been tall, pale, and young-looking, even though I had a feeling he was older and far more experienced than I. The man wore a yellow t-shirt and a white cap, like Fred Lebow's old running cap. The man knew I should be interested in the topic everybody was discussing. But I wasn't contributing to the discussion at all. This annoyed the man, like he thought I was simply being lazy.
I was now getting the feeling that it was too late for me to contribute to the discussion: everybody seemed to be getting ready to get up and leave. But for some reason I did say something. It was really hard for me to speak, and whatever I said came out kind of confused.
The tall guest and the other guest stayed seated in order to answer my question. I think they were disappointed at my question: they may have expected a more complex question from me. But I think they took the time to answer my question in the hope that their answer would lead me to ask a more complex question. It was like I was somehow known for asking really penetrating questions.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
the young man's not a fraud
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
An Adam Sandler movie. Adam Sandler played some guy who befriended a young man. It may even have seemed like Sandler was going to marry this young man. But the young man somehow turned out to be a "fraud," and he'd vanished from Sandler's life. Sandler was bitter and sad. A young woman who may have been Sandler's main or real love interest through the film may have explained to Sandler how she'd warned him about this young man.
I was now at some scene near the middle of the movie. Sandler and the young man were out on a dock over a lake. The young man seemed to be really shy and sensitive. Apparently Sandler had done something aggressive or loud to upset the young man. The young man may have been so upset that he had been perched on a roof, reluctant to come down. But slowly the young man felt good enough to come back down from the roof.
Sandler had made a huge plate of nachos (with something like chili sauce on them?). Sandler and the young man sat down on the dock with the huge plate of nachos between them. There was a little conversation, mostly carried on by Sandler: the young man was too quiet to carry on much of a conversation. But from the conversation, it became apparent to me, even though I think it was plain throughout the whole movie, that the young man had a little daughter.
Sandler was doing his best not to act aggressive and frighten away the young man. But it seemed to be wearing on him. And he seemed to resent the young man because of it. He felt like the young man required him to act better than he was, like the young man was some kind of better person, and therefore to be resented, simply because of his sensitivities to crude actions.
Sandler then mentioned some kind of punk rock festival. Sandler thought that was a somewhat artsy thing. And Sandler thought the young man liked artsy things. So Sandler figured that the punk rock festival might be a good way to get the young man to like Sandler again.
The punk rock festival was taking place in some Main Street like area in a small town. The first act the movie showed was of a woman-fronted punk band that was playing on a rooftop. The woman wore a white sweater and had short, auburn hair. She played guitar and sang. She sang a heavy, thrashy, but not quite punky, song.
It suddenly became clear that this girl was the young man's old lover. The young man was going to meet up with his old lover. It would be plain to both of them that they were still in love with each other. When the girl's band left town, the young man would go with the band, leaving Sandler alone.
I realized now that the young man hadn't left Sandler because the young man was a fraud. He left Sandler because he and Sandler weren't emotionally compatible and because he and the girl were still in love with each other. I wanted somehow to explain this whole thing to Sandler so that Sandler wouldn't be so sad and bitter toward the young man.
***
UPDATE: Added drawing, September 30, 2012, 7:30 AM, Mountain Standard Time.
Dream #1
An Adam Sandler movie. Adam Sandler played some guy who befriended a young man. It may even have seemed like Sandler was going to marry this young man. But the young man somehow turned out to be a "fraud," and he'd vanished from Sandler's life. Sandler was bitter and sad. A young woman who may have been Sandler's main or real love interest through the film may have explained to Sandler how she'd warned him about this young man.
I was now at some scene near the middle of the movie. Sandler and the young man were out on a dock over a lake. The young man seemed to be really shy and sensitive. Apparently Sandler had done something aggressive or loud to upset the young man. The young man may have been so upset that he had been perched on a roof, reluctant to come down. But slowly the young man felt good enough to come back down from the roof.
Sandler had made a huge plate of nachos (with something like chili sauce on them?). Sandler and the young man sat down on the dock with the huge plate of nachos between them. There was a little conversation, mostly carried on by Sandler: the young man was too quiet to carry on much of a conversation. But from the conversation, it became apparent to me, even though I think it was plain throughout the whole movie, that the young man had a little daughter.
Sandler was doing his best not to act aggressive and frighten away the young man. But it seemed to be wearing on him. And he seemed to resent the young man because of it. He felt like the young man required him to act better than he was, like the young man was some kind of better person, and therefore to be resented, simply because of his sensitivities to crude actions.
Sandler then mentioned some kind of punk rock festival. Sandler thought that was a somewhat artsy thing. And Sandler thought the young man liked artsy things. So Sandler figured that the punk rock festival might be a good way to get the young man to like Sandler again.
The punk rock festival was taking place in some Main Street like area in a small town. The first act the movie showed was of a woman-fronted punk band that was playing on a rooftop. The woman wore a white sweater and had short, auburn hair. She played guitar and sang. She sang a heavy, thrashy, but not quite punky, song.
It suddenly became clear that this girl was the young man's old lover. The young man was going to meet up with his old lover. It would be plain to both of them that they were still in love with each other. When the girl's band left town, the young man would go with the band, leaving Sandler alone.
I realized now that the young man hadn't left Sandler because the young man was a fraud. He left Sandler because he and Sandler weren't emotionally compatible and because he and the girl were still in love with each other. I wanted somehow to explain this whole thing to Sandler so that Sandler wouldn't be so sad and bitter toward the young man.
***
UPDATE: Added drawing, September 30, 2012, 7:30 AM, Mountain Standard Time.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
i kiss lady gaga; tunnel in the sky; hard-boiled birthday
Good morning, everybody.
Dream #1
I had written a short story which had a very brief passage in it mentioning Lady Gaga. I wanted to make sure Lady Gaga was okay with this passage -- even though I think I'd already published the story on a website or Smashwords or something.
Somehow I'd managed to get a hold of Lady Gaga on the phone. But even as we started talking, Lady Gaga appeared right next to me. Lady Gaga looked surprisingly normal. She had platinum blonde hair in a kind of round style, down to just below her shoulders. She wore black sunglasses, a black, leather jacket, a tank top, short, denim jeans, and maybe some black nylons.
We were sitting in a wide car seat, like the backseat of a car from the 1970s. But we weren't really in a car. We were in a room filled with stuff like colorful toys and stuffed animals, cluttered all around us. We were talking for a while, but I can't remember what we were talking about.
Then Lady Gaga asked me if I wanted to kiss her. I didn't feel like I was incredibly attracted to her. But she kind of had a hypnotic power over me. Plus, she was a big celebrity, and she was being so nice to me. I thought I'd better kiss her.
I slowly moved toward her. I think Lady Gaga's lips were bubblegum-pink. And up close, her cheeks looked a little chubby and cute. We kissed softly on the lips for a few seconds. It felt kind of magnetic. It felt really nice.
Then I was standing off of the car seat. It was like Lady Gaga was driving away, though I still don't think the car seat was in an actual car. Lady Gaga said, "Yeah, your story's fine. I have to go take care of some stuff now. Maybe I'll come back here when I'm done. Will you be available if I come around?"
I think I told her I'd be available. I think I looked around the toy-cluttered room and tried to figure out what the heck I was supposed to be doing here anyway.
Dream #2
I was laying out on a high school football field. It must have been late afternoon. The sun had gone down. The clouds all had a strange tinge of raspy, aluminum-pale orange. The air had the same kind of color. But I could see just behind the first layer of orange clouds was another layer of really dark grey-black clouds. I knew there was going to be a big thunderstorm.
I turned my head and told the football coach (?) that there was going to be a thunderstorm. I was kind of afraid to be laying out here like this. A huge tunnel opened up in the sky. The walls of the tunnel were made of orange clouds and grey-black clouds, interwoven. The tunnel seemed to work its way high up into the atmosphere, maybe even all the way into outer space. I may have seen large rocks floating through or falling through the tunnel.
I got really afraid of the impending thunderstorm. I stood up and walked to the edge of the field. At the edge of the field the grey-black clouds seemed to be a lot less potent. I figured I stood much less chance of being struck by lightning if I stood over here.
Dream #3
I was in the living room of a small apartment. The living room was bright white with daylight. I knelt before a couch, on which a little girl sat. Just to the right of the couch was the kitchen, in which the mom may have been working. There may have been one or two more kids in the apartment.
Now a little boy came running in through the front door of the apartment, off to my left. He ran all the way through the living room and into the hallway, saying, "Daddy's coming upstairs right now!"
The little girl on the couch got upset. She asked, "What do you mean he's coming home right now? He wasn't supposed to come home until later! That doesn't give us any time to prepare his surprise birthday party!"
The father came into the house. He was tall, pale, muscular, and attractive, with wavy, brown hair done in a square-swept, almost 1950s style. He wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans. He said hello as he walked in.
The mother called from the kitchen, saying that the family hadn't expected the father home so soon today. The mother hinted to the father, trying not to let on to the girl that she was hinting to the father (even though I think the girl knew), that the girl had planned on him coming home later so she could have a surprise party ready for him.
The father looked a little inconvenienced, knowing that he'd have to go back outside so everybody could put his party together. But he figured he'd do it, if it made the little girl happy. So he said, "Oh, you know, I forgot I have to go pick up this thing. It's gonna take me a while. But I'll be back in a bit."
As soon as the father got out the door, the little girl stood up. She said, "Okay. Now we really have to get working to make the surprise party." The little girl turned to me and said, "You help me make the hard-boiled eggs."
The little girl and I were now in the kitchen, which was different from the kitchen the mother had been in. This one wasn't open to the living room, and it ended directly in front of the front door to the apartment. The counter was all cluttered with all kinds of food. There was a television set at the right end of the counter. Some show was blaring away on it.
The little girl had been preparing some eggs for me. Apparently, making hard-boiled eggs was a two-step process. I was the second step, which was boiling the eggs. The little girl, who may now have been my sister, at her age in waking life, now left the kitchen. She was heading out with a few other people. I think everybody was going out to get items for the party.
I looked at the eggs my sister had left me with. I knew she had done something to prepare them so I could boil them. But, I thought, I had to get them into the pot as soon as possible. I picked up one of the eggs. It crumbled in my hands. It was like there hadn't even been anything inside the shell.
I looked down at the eggs. They were all on a plate, or maybe on an upside-down lid for a Tupperware container. One of the eggs looked cracked and buckled in all the way around. The cracks looked all rusty. I tried to pick up another one of the eggs. But when I did, it uncoiled, like it was a peeled potato/egg that had been re-spooled to look unpeeled, but then came all unwound as soon as I'd touched it.
I felt like maybe I'd waited too long to put the eggs in the pot. Or maybe I'd mishandled them all in some way. Whatever had happened, these eggs were no good. I'd have to prepare a new batch of eggs for boiling. I didn't think I knew how to do it. I'd have to ask my sister. But my sister wouldn't be back for a while. So I'd have to figure out for myself how to prepare the eggs.
It may have occurred to me that what I really needed to do was take raw eggs, boil them, and then run them under cold water. I may have gotten ready to do this.
But now I was distracted by the image on TV. It was some movie from the 1980s. A bunch of hot high school girls were all getting together for the night for a slumber party. They were all wearing skimpy lingerie and frolicking around in some girl's bedroom. I had my eyes glued to some girl laying on her stomach on the floor, cuddling with some big, soft pillow. She wore an almost see-through pink negligee. Her bottom was really turning me on.
Dream #1
I had written a short story which had a very brief passage in it mentioning Lady Gaga. I wanted to make sure Lady Gaga was okay with this passage -- even though I think I'd already published the story on a website or Smashwords or something.
Somehow I'd managed to get a hold of Lady Gaga on the phone. But even as we started talking, Lady Gaga appeared right next to me. Lady Gaga looked surprisingly normal. She had platinum blonde hair in a kind of round style, down to just below her shoulders. She wore black sunglasses, a black, leather jacket, a tank top, short, denim jeans, and maybe some black nylons.
We were sitting in a wide car seat, like the backseat of a car from the 1970s. But we weren't really in a car. We were in a room filled with stuff like colorful toys and stuffed animals, cluttered all around us. We were talking for a while, but I can't remember what we were talking about.
Then Lady Gaga asked me if I wanted to kiss her. I didn't feel like I was incredibly attracted to her. But she kind of had a hypnotic power over me. Plus, she was a big celebrity, and she was being so nice to me. I thought I'd better kiss her.
I slowly moved toward her. I think Lady Gaga's lips were bubblegum-pink. And up close, her cheeks looked a little chubby and cute. We kissed softly on the lips for a few seconds. It felt kind of magnetic. It felt really nice.
Then I was standing off of the car seat. It was like Lady Gaga was driving away, though I still don't think the car seat was in an actual car. Lady Gaga said, "Yeah, your story's fine. I have to go take care of some stuff now. Maybe I'll come back here when I'm done. Will you be available if I come around?"
I think I told her I'd be available. I think I looked around the toy-cluttered room and tried to figure out what the heck I was supposed to be doing here anyway.
Dream #2
I was laying out on a high school football field. It must have been late afternoon. The sun had gone down. The clouds all had a strange tinge of raspy, aluminum-pale orange. The air had the same kind of color. But I could see just behind the first layer of orange clouds was another layer of really dark grey-black clouds. I knew there was going to be a big thunderstorm.
I turned my head and told the football coach (?) that there was going to be a thunderstorm. I was kind of afraid to be laying out here like this. A huge tunnel opened up in the sky. The walls of the tunnel were made of orange clouds and grey-black clouds, interwoven. The tunnel seemed to work its way high up into the atmosphere, maybe even all the way into outer space. I may have seen large rocks floating through or falling through the tunnel.
I got really afraid of the impending thunderstorm. I stood up and walked to the edge of the field. At the edge of the field the grey-black clouds seemed to be a lot less potent. I figured I stood much less chance of being struck by lightning if I stood over here.
Dream #3
I was in the living room of a small apartment. The living room was bright white with daylight. I knelt before a couch, on which a little girl sat. Just to the right of the couch was the kitchen, in which the mom may have been working. There may have been one or two more kids in the apartment.
Now a little boy came running in through the front door of the apartment, off to my left. He ran all the way through the living room and into the hallway, saying, "Daddy's coming upstairs right now!"
The little girl on the couch got upset. She asked, "What do you mean he's coming home right now? He wasn't supposed to come home until later! That doesn't give us any time to prepare his surprise birthday party!"
The father came into the house. He was tall, pale, muscular, and attractive, with wavy, brown hair done in a square-swept, almost 1950s style. He wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans. He said hello as he walked in.
The mother called from the kitchen, saying that the family hadn't expected the father home so soon today. The mother hinted to the father, trying not to let on to the girl that she was hinting to the father (even though I think the girl knew), that the girl had planned on him coming home later so she could have a surprise party ready for him.
The father looked a little inconvenienced, knowing that he'd have to go back outside so everybody could put his party together. But he figured he'd do it, if it made the little girl happy. So he said, "Oh, you know, I forgot I have to go pick up this thing. It's gonna take me a while. But I'll be back in a bit."
As soon as the father got out the door, the little girl stood up. She said, "Okay. Now we really have to get working to make the surprise party." The little girl turned to me and said, "You help me make the hard-boiled eggs."
The little girl and I were now in the kitchen, which was different from the kitchen the mother had been in. This one wasn't open to the living room, and it ended directly in front of the front door to the apartment. The counter was all cluttered with all kinds of food. There was a television set at the right end of the counter. Some show was blaring away on it.
The little girl had been preparing some eggs for me. Apparently, making hard-boiled eggs was a two-step process. I was the second step, which was boiling the eggs. The little girl, who may now have been my sister, at her age in waking life, now left the kitchen. She was heading out with a few other people. I think everybody was going out to get items for the party.
I looked at the eggs my sister had left me with. I knew she had done something to prepare them so I could boil them. But, I thought, I had to get them into the pot as soon as possible. I picked up one of the eggs. It crumbled in my hands. It was like there hadn't even been anything inside the shell.
I looked down at the eggs. They were all on a plate, or maybe on an upside-down lid for a Tupperware container. One of the eggs looked cracked and buckled in all the way around. The cracks looked all rusty. I tried to pick up another one of the eggs. But when I did, it uncoiled, like it was a peeled potato/egg that had been re-spooled to look unpeeled, but then came all unwound as soon as I'd touched it.
I felt like maybe I'd waited too long to put the eggs in the pot. Or maybe I'd mishandled them all in some way. Whatever had happened, these eggs were no good. I'd have to prepare a new batch of eggs for boiling. I didn't think I knew how to do it. I'd have to ask my sister. But my sister wouldn't be back for a while. So I'd have to figure out for myself how to prepare the eggs.
It may have occurred to me that what I really needed to do was take raw eggs, boil them, and then run them under cold water. I may have gotten ready to do this.
But now I was distracted by the image on TV. It was some movie from the 1980s. A bunch of hot high school girls were all getting together for the night for a slumber party. They were all wearing skimpy lingerie and frolicking around in some girl's bedroom. I had my eyes glued to some girl laying on her stomach on the floor, cuddling with some big, soft pillow. She wore an almost see-through pink negligee. Her bottom was really turning me on.
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