If you dream you that you are bisexual, but you aren't....

"If you are not bisexual and dream that you are, then it may indicate some sexual repression."

All right. Now what the hell is this about?! Last night I had a vivid dream. Strange and fluid, and it made all the sense in the world to me while I lived in that fictional world. I had decided not to post it here, but I just can't stop thinking about it. How real the whole thing felt. I almost feel haunted by her.

This dream, like most of my dreams, started out in a different place, about a completely different thing. But eventually I found myself in front of a tall brick building in what looked like Brooklyn, NY. It was sunny out. I squinted a lot and couldn't read the numbers on the mailbox outside the building, but I knew it was the right place. I went inside and climbed the stairs 3 at a time. My heart was racing. Was I late? I passed a little old woman on the steps, and her eyes were cold, calculating little slits. I wondered what I had done to earn such contempt from her, but kept moving, as I could sense that I was late for something.

At the top of the stairs on the 5th floor I turned left and moved swiftly down the carpeted hall to a plain metal door. There was no number on it, and it may have been the only door on this floor. It was painted brown. The hall smelled like paprika. I rapped on the door with two knuckles and smiled at the peephole. 30 seconds later she was standing there.

"You're late." she twisted her neck and rolled her eyes, but stepped aside to let me in. "Can't you eva be on time, M?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry baby." I went to embrace her, but she stepped backward, her pink lips turned up in a smirk.

Her apartment is wonderful. I'm blinded by the yellow wash of sunlight against the pristine, crisp, white furniture. Everything is white and pink. I look at her. I don't know her name, or what she is to me. Her hair is a shoulder length bundle of tight curls. Jet black. Wet looking. Her eyes are brown, a light brown. Her lips are pink, thin welcome mats to her thoughts. I want to kiss her. I reach out to touch her beautiful hand with its long, pencil-like fingers and French manicure nails. She has gold ring on her right hand with her initial in script. I think it was the letter "I".

"At least you weren't late for dinner. I'm just about done. You're lucky!" she wagged one beautiful finger at me and pushed me back down onto the sofa, her warm hand lingering on my shoulder.

I realize she's Hispanic. I have the urge to speak Spanish to her, but she refuses to answer any of the botched questions I set out in her native language. She teases me relentlessly, but I enjoy it. She smells like fabric softener and hair gel. It's an innocent musk, and I realize I don't know how old she is. Her face is fresh, and without make-up, save for the shiny lip gloss she uses to hypnotize me with her lips.

There comes a point where she slides into my lap, pulls my hair into an awkward ponytail with her hands and kisses me full on the mouth. I melt right there on her couch. And then the alarm clock rings.

I don't know if I can just accept that whole "sexual repression" explanation. First off, why can't it just be a dream about hooking up with a chick? I'm sure lots of people have dreams like it, but aren't repressed. I'm not prepped to run tell a shrink about this, but I do wonder what it means in my case. Lately my dreams have been trying to tell me things. I just ended a 3 year-old association with a guy, because I had a dream that laid the symbolisms on thick. I suppose it was something I knew I would have to do eventually, but the dream prompted me with a glimpse of the consequence I would suffer if I chose to ignore.

Well then, what is this dream trying to tell me?