Such dreams.

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In the first one, I was back in high school.  Just about to leave.  Believe it or else, there were a few hens I could have picked from, for... longer relationships.  Marriage, probably.  For my part, I knew better.  Money.  The guys, my age, marrying then, where marrying for sex.  And they got it, for a while.

Whether in the service like me, or on their dad's farm, or getting a degree and then job?  The main problems right away was money.  Money, money, money.  Or sex.  Or sex and money.  The lack of each for the lack of one.  Though, more complicated than that, also... not so much more complicated.

Going to sea?  Yea.  Leaving a young hungry bride, alone, after getting all her instincts honed for intimacy?  After all those years of saying "No", in high school, perhaps before, hopefully?  Then... to see for three months, up to twice a year?  For... a while?  Most of the guys who got married shortly found themselves divorced.  And... the money was crap.  Even if she worked, it was groveling money, not living money.

I... wasn't willing to find a woman unless I could breath monetarily.  When I made it to E-4, I... found a woman.  But didn't get married.  If that... was going to be happening shortly... if things had worked?  In theory.  I think she... would have gotten the ring, if after the child.

But the whole dream was about whether to obtain a woman before or after finding one's fortunes, career, or such.  Well, for me, it wasn't just money.  I had just left my mother, wasn't all that keen about replacing her in any kind of a hurry.  Women want your lunch money, and snack money too.  They want it all, and control.  The fine print is really fine, but it's... in there.  There was much more detail, but it seems to have gone.  Every man, from my age, probably went through the considerations.  Probably have a few women they thought they could have chosen from?  Or... possibly... you know women!  :p

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The next dream was an odd one.  I dreamed I won a custom breakfast.  No, not any breakfast... meal.  This was cooked by a chef of great talent, who suffered to cook the meal.  If producing one of the finest meals one could eat.  Being a minor chef, of sorts, or having worked at that... off the clock... I was quite excited.

The night before, I dreamed of instructions, and what I really wanted from the chef.  I actually would be asking for several versions of the meal, by which to decide two final versions.  It... was a bit more work, and a lot more food.  I didn't know if he would accept, assuming the chef was a man.  But... I would ask.

I was led into the kitchen.  HOT!  He was cooking on cast iron ovens, several, kept at various, but high, temps.  He was strangely attired.  Even his hair seemed... odd.  I couldn't make it out at first.  Grayish curls, for what seemed like hair, and his outfit was thick and gray.

I began speaking with him.  He asked what, if anything, I had on my mind.  I told him the instructions I got from the dream.  Though wondering possibly if the dream was wrong, and silly, not relating to reality at all.  He just said, oh?  That.  I dreamed of it too.  Since you dreamed that as well, I will do that.

On he began to cook.  I had to leave, often.  For the heat was intense, stifling, scorching.  I... didn't see how he could do it.  Over time, as I watched his skills bring the recipes to life, I began discussing this with him.

He nearly broke down.  He obviously had difficulty with this too.  So, I promised him, if if completed my meal as we discussed, I would help him out of this.  It turns out his locks weren't hair, but a fireproof artificial coif.  The horror in his eyes.  But he did finish.

I consumed the finest meal I have ever eaten.  He went, and cooled off.  After he showered, and dressed in standard clothes, cooling and such, I went to speak with him.  The horror was still in his eyes.  I told him I would act as a go-between, between his parents and himself.  I would hold firm, if he would stick to it and not yield to his parents' wishes.  But, he had to do that part.  I would talk as long as it took.

I did ask if hew would do two things.  First, work some time longer, training up a replacement in that time, but a limited time.  Next, he would need to find a profession within four years, then help his parents with replacement costs, if a replacement cost too much more.  Filling in if the replacement failed, at least in his off-time.  He would.

So... we began the process of negotiating with his parents.  At one point they threatened to kill me.  I just told them doing so would also let their son off this duty, so if they must, then go ahead and do so.  Negotiations... went back into line after that.  A few hours of thusly speaking, and the arrangement was made.

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I woke up.  Having something like gas diarrhea?  Either lunch, or supper, upset things in there.  And I had left the furnace up.  The front room was shut down, but the furnace was still at 75?  Usually that isn't so hot.  I suppose, with the food upsetting things, it felt like I was in that hot kitchen... burning.

I got up, passed gas, turned the furnace down.  Went on back to bed, but the gas was... feeling... wrong?  So, I went down, just in time.  Just a bit of upset out.  But... all good.  And, I began cooling as the furnace stopped shooting heat out.  Writing to see if the upset is done, and to cool off a bit anyway as well.  Ugh.

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Such odd dreams and such.  How they connect to overheating.  I had turned on the electric blanket, which really added to things.  It was only 61 up there, but it felt like I was near a blast furnace.  On back to bed.  I think... everything is better.  Maybe just a bit longer, to cool a bit more.  Heat can be a true horror.

Good night.

Men?  Women?  All must be dealt with, taught.  Done honestly, if sometimes harshly, things can... work out.  Amen?  I think so.

But damn they are gorgeous things.

Even while crippled, I'll do what I must.  Hurt?  Everybody.  Definitely amen.