Jogging and Ambrosia

2012-06-05

Weird how these things usually come in twos. And a peculiar thing about both of these dreams is that the me starring in them was much more... well, me than normal. I may have been a bit thinner than in real life, but I was still basically the obese, hairy, ugly motherfucker that I am in real life. I wonder why these dreams didn't replace me with a 'better one' like normal? Meh.


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The first dream wasn't too impressive, though it was a bit more vivid than normal. Or maybe I just remember it because it went on for quite a while, at least when one considers the tame subject matter.

The plot: I was jogging (well, running, but same difference with me) from Cushman to my house. Probably only a mile and change, but in real life, this would be an absolutely impossible task for me to perform. While I seemed to be managing in the dream, it wasn't easy there either; as mentioned earlier, I was still a fat fuck. I didn't seem to be getting fatigued though, which was nice.

It was snowy outside, slushy really. It must have been taking place either just prior to spring or just after autumn. It was very grey, overcast all throughout the course of the dream.

I wish I could describe some cool shit going on, but nope. It was just me jogging along the sidewalk in the snow, or sometimes in the road. My parents were behind me, my mom driving (slightly odd, as she prefers to be driven when given the choice) a dark-grey version of my brother's Ford Explorer. Sometimes, when I was jogging in the road, she'd give me a slight tap from behind with the car. That's right - she'd run into me with the SUV, but only ever so slightly. Instead of hurting a lot like in real life, this was just a bit annoying in the dream.

After a while, it became a race between us as to who would get home first; for some reason, the wintery conditions made me think I had a chance. Of course, I lost the race handily, and then the dream transitioned to my next dream somehow.


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The second dream was about a person I used to know, a young woman named Ambrosia. I don't know if that's how her name is spelled, but that's what I'm running with.

I realize that I write about 'T' a lot, and Larissa substantially less but, still, much more often than any woman other than 'T'. With these two, both ancient history but still the most recent pseudo-relationships I've had (or more precisely, been maybe close to having), it's easy for me to forget that there were others before. A fair handful in fact, girls and young women whose faces will forever be burned into my soul; blistering tattoos that have yet to stop bleeding and probably never will.

Generally speaking, as of today my infatuations are categorized in three ways: 'Tara', 'pre-Tara' and 'post-Tara'. Larissa falls into the last category, everyone else into the second. Tara was a cataclysmic event that tore the landscape in half, forcing us to readjust the way we calculate time and events, thus earning her own category.

For the outside observer, I should take a quick moment to mention that everything shitty about the 'Tara Era' was my own fault. The big issue here is that I went insane over her for a short while and have never fully recovered; Tara shares no real part of the blame. Her only sins were existing and becoming known to me. I just wanted to make this clear since I may be writing about her more in the future, and I don't want to leave an impression like she was some sort of harpy who 'tore my heart out' or something. What she wanted from me was friendship, and what I wanted from her was everything.

Ambrosia, when measured along that scale, was either the most significant or second-most significant pre-T that I can think of. There was one other from a very long time ago, a girl named Megan who I fell in love with (as I understood it) when I was in second grade; I'm pretty sure that she's the first girl I fell for to such an extent. There were others prior (and during) who'd earned significant crushes, and occasionally 'worse', but she's the first I can definitely say that I loved. Ambrosia is roughly tied with Megan when it comes to pre-T significance.

Just as a quick aside, I realize that anyone reading this (if anyone ever does) will doubt very much that I was actually capable of 'really loving' anyone at such a young age. You might be right, but I've never gone through an 'ewww girls, cooties' stage, and I recall quite clearly being sexually attracted to adult women by about the age of five or six (I remember asking the cable guy to install 'the boobies channel' when we first moved to Fairbanks). I also remember thoroughly enjoying panty-shots in kindergarten -- we'll just say that five-year-olds wearing skirts are none too careful where they walk. What I'm getting at is that, while maybe everyone else was the same, the impression I get is that most other people weren't quite as 'ready' as I was at that age, and usually weren't for another decade.

I suppose this doesn't prove that I 'really loved' anyone back then, but it certainly doesn't feel any different today than it did back then. It just hurts more today, because I'm no longer a child with nothing but a bright future, but am instead a fat loser with no prospects at all. The older I get, the harder failures are to ignore.

Anyway, Ambrosia.

I met Ambrosia a bit before high-school, if I recall correctly. I won't go into a blow-by-blow analysis (insert blowjob joke here) of everything I remember about her, since that's not what this entry is about, but suffice to say there was a period where she was never far from my thoughts. Specifically, a period of about four or five years, though strongest by far for about two of those.

I'm not sure why exactly. She showed me her tits once, which I'm sure didn't do much to keep her from my fantasies, but there was something about her that was completely transfixing, and had drawn me in long before the tits incident. Many things, really, but nonetheless I can't explain why I fell so hard so fast. We didn't start off on spectacular footing, and initially she only tolerated me because she wanted a friend of mine to put his dick in her (I had access to a vehicle at most times, which made me more indispensable than normal).

A lot of it had to do with her personality, and as much as that just sounds like bullshit to make me seem less shallow -- trust me, I'm plenty shallow and I will admit it freely -- it's actually true. She was very... refreshing, I guess? Fun? I don't know. All I know is that I wanted to be around her all the time, but every time I tried, my borderline-autistic ass always awkward'd things up terribly. Same story, every time. I just couldn't deal with it, and avoided her because of it. The fact that she always seemed to have a new dick in her mouth every other day kept me at a distance as well, I guess. I was no competition at all for the type of guys she spent most of her time with, and I wasn't about to embarrass myself by trying to be. They were good-looking and had, at the very least, a handful of social skills that I just cannot seem to develop; these are qualities that I won't ever possess.

I stopped talking to Ambrosia when I was about 19 I think, and have spoken perhaps a dozen words to her since then. She started dating a guy that I hated quite a lot, so I figured it was time to cut her off. Petty? Sure, but in my defense, have I ever had to visit her, knowing she was going to fuck this guy I hate as soon as I left? No. I've never had to deal with that agony, and I'm more than happy to have lost a friend and unrequited love interest rather than put myself through however many years of that shit. I recently found out that she'd since married him; I have no idea when they got married, where they live, etc.. And best of all, I could hardly give a shit less. What this says to me, since I haven't put a bullet through my head, is that I made the right decision.

Sometimes, you need to lose the limb to save the body is all I'm saying.

I relate all of this to drive home the point that Ambrosia was no mere crush to me, but rather something else entirely. It's probably best that I stopped seeing her when I did. As it is, my memories are of a beautiful young woman, a girl with bright eyes that could just as easily strike a man silent as force him to laugh. Her smile was mischievous, playful, mocking and infectious. Her very presence intoxicated me, and I'd change very little about the way I remember her even if I could.

So the dream then.

I'm not sure why I was dreaming about Ambrosia. It could be that a week or so ago, Matt mentioned her briefly for some reason or other (the very same conversation where he told me she had married). I can't recall the context at all, but her name came up referentially while we were talking about something else.

In the dream, Ambrosia and I were younger than we are now, though older than when we knew each other. She was close to the age when I last ran into her, back when I was about 21. We were pretty friendly to each other in the dream, much in the same way that we used to be so long ago, only more so.

We were in a bar, I think. It almost seemed more like a house, with tables and couches and stuff, and I don't recall seeing a bartender or anything like that. Nonetheless, I got a very 'bar' vibe from the place. It was filled with a bunch of strangers, most of whom knew none of each other, though Ambrosia recognized one or two of the men. It was dim and smoky inside, and most had an alcoholic drink of some type or other at hand.

Ambrosia was very slightly different than I remember her. For one thing, she was a bit friendlier toward me than I can recall. Well, maybe 'friendly' isn't the right word, since she was usually nice enough. 'Comfortable,' I guess? She was also slightly 'darker.' Her hair was a little darker than I recall, as were her eyes, and her features were slightly thinner, almost as if she had stayed the exact same weight but grew a few inches taller. Her skin was also very slightly tanned. She was also a bit more reserved, less playful and more 'mature' in the way she acted. Frankly, I think I preferred the old Ambrosia a little better, but as mentioned, this version of her was closer to me than the old one, which goes quite a long way with me.

Anyway, I had no reason to be at the bar. I didn't even want to be there at all, but I was following her around transfixed as usual, and she was walking around talking to the people she recognized.

One reason I recall this dream so well is that there was a noticeable degree of intimacy between us. At one point, after we'd approached a table but before she began speaking to the guy she knew, I placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her toward me. Her feet were planted, but she leaned back against me and I stood there whispering 'sweet nothings' into her ear for a little while, running my hand up and down the length of her back beneath her shirt from behind. This exchange ended with me 'nuzzling' her, smelling her hair and neck, coming to a stop finally with my upper lip resting on her shoulder beneath the collar of her shirt.

There was also a hint of something else; she didn't know I was going to do that, didn't expect it, and yet it wasn't entirely unwelcome either (this is where we separate dreams from any sort of real exchange I've had). I released my grip on her, and she cast a playful glance back at me with a small grin. Instant boner.

Most of the rest of the dream was uneventful. She still had to talk to a few people, and I followed dutifully behind, wanting nothing more than to leave with her and hang out in a more private venue. At one point, I finally got bored enough that I decided I was going to go grab a beer, so that's what I did.

When I returned to find her, she was already dressed in her winter clothes (apparently it was winter) and was almost out the door with a group of two guys and one woman, all likewise dressed for the weather. She saw me and there was suddenly the impression that she was trying to leave without my noticing, that I wasn't supposed to see her before she managed to slip out. I was unwanted, though there was a sorrowful tinge to her expression; almost like she wanted to want me, but just... didn't, and couldn't no matter how hard she tried.

So she exited with her new pals and I was left standing there with a beer that I didn't really even want, at a party/bar where I hated everyone and didn't want to come to in the first place.

Depressingly, I can totally see this sort of thing happening in real life.