It wasn't as real or as scary as the last one. Last night, I had another weird dream.
I was a prostitute in a brothel. It was the first day and I was nervous. However, I was stunningly surprised to see a few other girls that I went to high school with, also making extra money working at the brothel. How nice to be rooming with old friends. The first night we are all appropriately attired and standing in line like cattle to be gazed upon. If it hadn't been for my blog I think there would have been less men. Less familiar men gazing upon us. Just like I was rooming with high school girl friends, it looked as if I would also be "rooming" with high school boy friends. High school boy friends, with wives and families, that wanted to see me as I was at that moment. I waited for the madam to list the names of the hired women for the night. I knew my first night had come and yet my name stayed silent among my friends. I sighed and retreated to my room alone.
It was half time. Time for the men to pick another winner for the second half of their night. My roommate returned and vomited in her bed. I immediately need to be busy. I go to the hall closet and retrieve more sheets. And was confronted by the least of the men who had come to see me. He was the midget. The small person. The wee man. The little guy who was so mean to me in high school. Now married with children, here he was wanting to bed me. My how times have changed. My how cocky he must feel. Throwing money and alcohol at me like I am needy and unworthy.
What he doesn't know is that I will drink that alcohol and have courage. I will take that money and have worth. I will go home to my husband still honest and authentic. Would his wife understand his feeling of inadequacy? His need to prove himself above a whore?
Okay so brothels do don't have half times. I didn't go to school with a wee man. And no I did not have sex with that man. But what did you thinking of the writing?
Stay Funny San Diego, Daya
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