Thursday, May 30th, 2002 | Dreams

I was at Chris’ mom’s house, downstairs, peeing into a stainless steel toilet shaped like one of those concrete bunker-type toilets that you find at Sonoma County beaches. I thought, “God, what a mess for Pat (Chris’ mom) to have to clean up,” and turned to see Stephanie, Chris’ Dad, standing there. I remarked to her about how firm and perky her breasts were. She giggled, and suddenly I was in a forest. Sophia Loren sat on a log nearby in a man’s white shirt, buttoned loosely and revealing her décolletage. I was busy sawing off the limbs of a tree that had earlier been cut down. I paused to notice that my hands were covered in saw dust, clinging to the sap on my palms, and then rubbed them together nervously, looking at Sophia, who giggled and blushed with me…

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