In a happier mood, last night was devoted to atmospheric dreaming. In one I was at a tony wine tasting laid on for my father by my godmother at the old-fashioned law office where he used to work, all walnut panelling and brass fittings and discreet lighting. (His real office was in a sterile 60s office building lit by fluorescents.) My brother was there too, but I had a feeling we'd kind of crashed the event. I wasn't supposed to, of course, but I opened one of the bottles, which is to say I sliced it in half down the middle and remarked in surprise to John that there was no core or pit in the centre- it was all yellow wine right through.
An earlier dream was about doing cleanup at the daycare, which wasn't the daycare but a second floor open-concept loft-like space with wooden walls. I was trying to get the last kid to go home with his parents (kid is the son of our local trans activists) but he kept on talking as is, in fact, his wont.
And in between was a sexual dream about the two oldest dragon brothers who sort-of kind-of kept morphing into Papuwa's Magic and Servis. I'm happy to encounter either set of brothers again in my dreams, and more than happy to have an erotic dream at all, because that just doesn't happen in the post-hormonal state.