*gobble gobble*

Well, it's another holiday.
Last weekend I hosted another party. I was told by the same young woman (who is domme and has lovely ideas concerning puppygirls) who felt presences last time that I have ghost cats running around the place. This does not surprise me, considering all the cats my whole family has had over the years. Later, after everyone else had left, I had a scene with a lovely girl, and I hoped it met her satisfaction. Focused in large part on beating her feet, like with rulers and canes, which she seems to enjoy. Afterwards it was pretty late and I offered to let her sleep here rather than drive an hour back home. You know, I've only slept in a bed with someone else a few times in my life... definately something with which I need practice. I guess it's just something you get used to. All night when I had to shift position I did so slowly and carefully so as not to disturb her. I guess that was more considerate than needed, seeing as it was my bed and all and I could flop to my heart's desire, but I did want her to get a decent rest and all. Anyway, she later told me that I talk in my sleep. How the heck am I supposed to keep secrets if I talk in my sleep?? How am I supposed to plot cruel plans against my bedmate if I divulge everything between snores? I guess I'll know if I wake to find them cowering against the bedpost in the morning.

On the subject of ghost cats. I don't know if hearing that got me to thinking about them and wedged the thoughts in my subconscious, but I had a dream about them a couple of nights ago. Dreamed I woke up to find several of my past cats in my bedroom, just lounging. Normally when I dream of someone or something deceased there is an unreal quality to them.. usually in a dream I'm not even aware that they've been dead. They're just dream actors playing the parts, made up of memory and no more substantial than a 2D paper doll. Sometimes though, very rarely, there's a difference. It's as if they're as real as anything in waking life. This dream was like that. I knew they were dead, but there they were, and they seemed to be aware of me in a very non-dreamlike way. And I could even touch them again, just for a few minutes, pet them and scratch them and roll them about on my bed. I was so happy I could feel them again that I was crying my eyes out. I then woke up very happy.

Was it just a regular dream? Was it something more? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? The world may never know.

I had another dream last night.. some weird, religious dream where I was in church and a priest punished by sending me to some dungeon where supposedly I was to be tortured until I repented, but it all seemed pretty fun to me. Mostly, I remembered a gagged woman straddling me, and her saliva fell like sticky, dewdrop rain onto my face.. eventually so much that I couldn't see anything but I was enjoying myself. I woke up giggling.

Oh yes.. happy thanksgiving to all and to all a good night.

What's new

Ugh.. all you can eat mongolian grill should be illegal or something. Too full.

Spent the start of the month fairly depressed about all the election stuff. I don't much like the idea of being ruled by the whims of the insanely religious. After all, unrepentent degenerate elite people like me would become kindling if they could have their way. Obviously it won't get that bad, and obviously not everyone who voted for Bush feels that way.. only a minority. But I fear that that strong, powerful minority (the so called swing voters) to which the prez is beholden *does* feel that way. The ones who feel it is their sworn duty to turn the world into their own mirror image. Saw an interview with a family of these people who voted solely on 'moral value' rather than on any real issue, and their little girl, probably 7 or 8 years old, was praying that the world would end so that she could get all raptured up. What kind of life must a little girl have to hope so fervently that it would all end in hopes of something better? Through what horrible lenses has the child been taught to see the world, to view it as so ugly that it can't end soon enough? Life is worth living! It's a beautiful, wonderful thing even when it's not so great. Even a filthy, godless, degenerate pervert like me can see that. But I'm at peace with myself. Are they, I wonder? And if they are, why can't they accept that my peace is just as valid as theirs? Ah well.

On a happier note, I finally got some ring bolts installed in a couple ceilings... but I want more, more, more! Need to put up a coatrack to hang my floggy toys.

Someone sensitive to these things told me that my house is haunted. Figures. I guess it doesn't matter, so long as I don't bump into somebody in the hallway in the middle of the night.

Yesterday upon the stair, I saw a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today.
Oh, how I wish he'd go away.