Dream #284: Udon Piss

01.16.2012 § Leave a comment

I run into Keith who to my chagrin has hired Dilbert as a PA instead of me.

We’re outside the Kinokuniya building in Japantown. There’s a 3D projection film screening on the roof. Watching from the ground like this, the bottom portion of this illuminated hologram show is occluded by the building’s face. The denser glow of the rims of the forms, in a shimmering pastel spectrum, is gorgeous against the gradient of the magic hour sky. The film is about a mother and her daughter of five years, who has a layer cake of five layers, divided into equal quarters. One of these quarters is missing its top two layers, another adjacent layer was missing four, and the other two are intact.

I’m organizing cabinets for a big family dinner. I take from a real bag of those orange “For Sale” stickers. They’re old and disgusting, but since I’m putting them with good food stuffs, I hope it’s alright. I put some of the stuff into peoples’ cars. There’s three unopened AriZona brand sweetened Green Tea with Ginseng and Honey cans displayed in a wooden case with cylindrical slots perfectly designed for them on the wall. It’s very lofi.

A Blasian rapper who used to be young and skinny but is now bald on top with a long ponytail in back.

Michelle and another girl of a different hapa blend speak, side by side, Michelle on the right.

I walk through the restaurant of the hotel lobby into the commune area. That damn semi-attractive brunette girl who’s been stalking me sees me as I open the door to the unisex bathroom. It’s one of those bathrooms where instead of individual urinals there is just one big sloped metal tray that everyone fits as best they can next to each other at and pees into. I’m the only one here now, so I pick anywhere, unzip, and start going. The brunette comes up behind me and is zounds taller than I’d estimated. She looms over my shoulder with plenty of height to get a clear angle on my penis. My piss is coming out in five strands that are thick and unwavering, almost noodle like. I open the conversation by explaining that my pisses sometimes happen this way. She seems quite skeptical, but her sexual voracity is undeterred. I find myself flirting despite my revulsion, just to conform to the assumed expectations of such a social situation as this.


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