I love you, darling, but I must drive off this cliff now

In my philosophy group chat this morning, we were talking about the difference between dreams and reality. One of my friends here on island (that I'm quite fond of) said that her son asked her how we know that dreams aren't real. How did he know the couch was real? She was pleased he was able to ask big questions, understandably so. I said that if we don't know if reality is real, then is there actually a difference between our waking life and our dreamt one? Miriah agreed with my question. While I always love being agreed with, because agreement is obviously synonymous with DREA IS RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING, it is upsetting to realize that her agreement symbolizes a likelihood that:

I may have had sex with Carrot Top, full stop, with no meaningful "it was a dream" caveat.

If THIS is where philosophy is taking me, I am disembarking right this very fucking moment.

I definitely did have a sex dream about Carrot Top. I've blogged about it before, and I remember trying to read it out loud to Derek but really struggling because I was laughing so fucking hard about having a sex dream about Carrot Top. I don't even remember the dream anymore. I mean, I kind of do. It took place in the cantina from his 1-800-COLLECT commercials, and I feel like I remember Carrot Top being like, just utterly irresistible to me in my dream. I was so warm for his form. I wanted to rock his body right. I wanted to wake up and kill myself.

I think I was deeply embarrassed about the Carrot Top sex dream, I feel pretty confident in saying it took me a couple of weeks, if not months or years, to tell Steffie about it. There are few things I won't tell my three best friends, and it seems like "Sex Dreams About Carrot Top" is where I draw my line in the sand. Stevie and I have been friends for almost 13 years, and she may not know about my Carrot Top sex dream. Same with Kati. Amber knows about it, but I think more because she's read my blog than directly being told. I think Steffie is the only person I ever told outright that I had a dream about Carrot Top. In which I believe we fucked on the bar top.

In my defense, I was young when I had this sex dream. Maybe 16 or 17. As I wrote the other day, my sexuality was all over the place. Undefined. No real solution. And with all of that turmoil, Carrot Top weaseled his way in to my subconscious. Sexually. It's never been something I forgot about, I occasionally had the momentary reminder of it. Gone but not forgotten is the best way to describe it. It had been years. Years and years. Decades. Almost two of them. Not one single moist dream about jacked men with wild hair. Not one whisper of that coming back to haunt me any time soon.

Imagine my delight, a few years ago, to get a snap from Steffie. My dear friend, one of the loves of my life.

Except this bitch.

She met Carrot Top. She met Carrot Top and told him about my sex dream.

She met Carrot Top, told him about my sex dream, and then recorded a video of him addressing me AND TALKING ABOUT MY SEX DREAM.

The thing that gets me there is he talked about it like I have just had this long standing crush on Carrot Top (I have not) and the sex dream was intentional (it was not) and like, it is hilarious that Steffie either didn't correct him, or enforced that idea when she told him about my sex dream, but I have to repeat that I have never in my life willingly harbored sexual feelings toward Carrot Top. 

Unless there is no difference between our waking lives and our dreamt lives. If that's the case, I totally wanted to fuck Carrot Top, but I guess the bonus is, he wanted to fuck me back? I honestly don't know who wins there.