Saturation Points

So who was that girl in my dream last night?  The one in the red t-shirt and shorts who went out to stand in the rain?  Sadly we'll probably never know.  Stupid dreams.

I was going to start with the phrase "This is a weird one," but that seems rather unnecessary.  They're all weird, aren't they?  As if getting your clothes wet isn't weird enough in itself, doing it in a dream paints an extra layer of weirdness over the top of it.  So... this is a fairly normal one.

The protagonist in this one was a girl called Laura, a friend of a friend who I met a handful of times about three years ago and, to be honest, haven't really given much thought to since.  Thank you, brain, for your ceaseless searching for new subjects.  Now, the real-life Laura is, to be fair, nothing special.  Slim build, bleach-blonde hair, distinctly average face.  Not unattractive, but not a head-turner either.  In my dream, however, she appeared to be approaching some kind of supermodel status.

What she had done was to somehow tap into the idea that doing a wetlook shoot was some kind of fast-track to gaining popular recognition.  To this end she had dressed herself up in a fantastic figure-hugging, ankle-length orange dress of crushed silk, teamed with beautiful black underwear and an amazing pair of black high-heeled sandals, the kind with straps which criss-crossed their way up her calves to just below the knees.  Having done this, Laura had a photographer take a large series of photographs of her very slowly soaking her outfit in a bath of water.

Somehow, the photos were being released over a long period of time, starting with her perched on the edge of the bath and building up to the point where she was completely soaked, at which point she would be hailed as the greatest supermodel of our age.  Annoyingly, though others had received the whole set and were marvelling over how the soaked orange dress showed off her fabulously sexy body, I had only managed to acquire the first few photos, up to the stage where she was just about knee deep in the water.  Even these initial pictures were extremely sexy, with her spiky, strappy shoes visible through the soaked fabric of her dress and the promise of more to come.  I never did see the rest of them, of course, but it makes me wonder if I shouldn't make some kind of effort to get back in touch with Laura.  You never know, do you?

One of the reasons for starting this blog was to allow me to keep a note of my watery dreams so that I wouldn't forget them.  Of course, since then I haven't had any.  Until last night.

It's all a bit vague, as dreams tend to be, but I was on some kind of road trip in the USA with a female companion.  Annoyingly though, I've no idea who she was.  She was wearing a pale blue t-shirt like one my ex Natalie used to wear, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't her; the dream girl was better looking.  Anyway, I was in the passenger seat as Dream Girl pulled in to a petrol station (okay, gas station if you must) but instead of petrol pumps (yeah yeah, gas pumps!), there were several devices which looked like pe..... gas pumps but actually delivered water instead of any kind of petroleum-based product.  They had shower attachments on the ends of the nozzles and were clearly designed for washing cars, but Dream Girl decided it would be much more fun to turn the shower on herself.  I sat there open mouthed as she allowed the water to pour over her shoulders and down her back, turning her already quite thin t-shirt into little more than a pale blue tint over her skin and her bra.  After thoroughly soaking herself, she got back in the car and drove off, but we didn't get very far as she found it quite difficult to drive with my hands all over her...  8-)