The Queen is Coming

I’m looking at an outside concert (Britney Spears?) audience. I see a small portion of barbed wire in the back. A young man is sitting on a couple of the barbs, leaning forward, so that you see his back.

He then straightens, pulling back a little. He had stuck the barbs, one on each side, in his groin area, the space between the top of his leg, and his privates. He screams, not from pain, but out of accomplishment. Nothing came out of the holes.

I am at a place where I work, and there are a couple of Brian’s (20 something, but still a child mentality) things that he needed to come back and get.

I am looking at tumblr. I see a gif post that has been blended using two separate ones. On the left, a young woman is standing at the top of a ladder, sprinkling, by hand, some “fairy” dust over another girl below, who is on the right side.

A man, behind a counter (was I shopping?), tells me that he likes the small lock (bracelet size) on the front of my sweats (where usually tie). I think I smiled, wanted to say that my boyfriend (Ali) gave the sweats to me, and the lock came with them.

A young woman is excited. She is talking about ? She is wearing a light / sky blue very formal dress / gown, as if she is royalty. I, or someone else, tells her that the queen is coming. She stops talking, with her mouth open still. I sense she is feeling a little worry / concern.

(Ali’s dream)

We go down to San Diego, around 5 / 6 in the evening. I wait at Starbucks while he goes to a mosque that some guys invited him to.

He gets there late (I’m just writing what he told me), during prayers. He gets in line, praying to the East, which is to the left. They have to pray four times, and he gets there at three, so has to do two on his own. When he finishes, he is facing South, straight ahead. This causes commotion.

Some guys ask him if he’ll help out with a guy who has been arrested. He says, no, that he doesn’t want to get involved. He later finds out that it was a setup.

He comes back to where I am, wanting to go back home. I suggest that we stay a little, relax, and have some passion tea.

(From Sept. 14, 2014

I angrily tell Micalanne, either to her face, or in her direction, that she’s an f-ing b.

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