Ron Silliman Dream #32: The Freakiest Guy

Ron and I are out driving around looking at X-Mas lights.

Suddenly he leans, cuddling, against my shoulder:

"O, Rauan, you're the freakiest guy I've been with."

He pauses for a moment, colored lights splashed, blinking, all over his face. And he's rubbing up against me, almost purring his charged, hot body against mine:

"And am I the freakiest girl you've ever been with?"

I hesitate. A large herd of deer are blazing out from the yard we're rolling slowly past. Blazing out red, yellow and white. And I hesitate. They are so damned beautiful. And  I hesitate.

"O, no," Rauan laments, whining. "I'm not! I am not! I am not! O, no Rauan! O, no!"

And I'm immediately terrified with Déjà Vu ambiguity. Excited because a long passionate night/fire/chaos awaits us. But, at the same time, I can't even imagine what cruel and ludicrous abuses Ron is going to exhort and even force me to visit on his insatiable flesh.

And I'm suddenly not up for this at all. And I feel as though I am falling, flailing—like a dead bird—through the immensities of desire, fulfillment and annihilation.

"O, No, Rauan" .... "O, No!" .... "O, No!" ... "O, No!"