My Subconscious Is Just Laughing At Me Now...

A few months ago, I reported that my subconscious is broken because, when I had a dream about my celebrity crush, Aaron Rodgers, the most 'action' I got was holding hands.  I will again submit that I still do not have any naughty thoughts during my waking hours.  However, this time, my sleep was induced by the magical muscle relaxer my doctor prescribed for my back.  I'm off all of the other prescriptions except for that tiny little piece of heaven that has made sleep possible and ... dreams a little more vibrant.

So one would think that, finally, I could have some fun...  Not at all.  In fact, my dreams told me, "You don't have a snowball's chance, baby."  Lookit Aaron here... It's like he's saying, "Go for it Spinster!  Let loose!"

No such luck.



The setting was a hotel in New Orleans.  I had traveled to the Super Bowl with Aaron and some of his teammates.  We had a huge suite with three bedrooms, living room, etc.  We were getting ready to party.  I was the only chick there because, of course, I'm Aaron's girl.  Or, rather, all the guys were encouraging him to make me his girl because they don't like his girlfriend (whether he has a girlfriend in real life is not known -- there are internet rumors, but he's never confirmed any of them).  This kind of teasing embarrassed both of us, but the guys soon left to give us some privacy to talk it all out.

When we finally started getting somewhere -- ie, we talked about our "feelings" -- the girlfriend showed up.  It was obvious she didn't like me as she dragged Aaron to the couch, straddled his lap, and started to kiss him in front of me.  It wasn't even sexy kissing.  It was more like repeated pecking -- kind of like that Bobbing Bird Toy.

I rolled my eyes and went downstairs to the hotel kitchen where they let me use their facilities to bake brownies for the after party we were going to be hosting in our suite.  I don't know, but I'm assuming we weren't going to have any alcohol -- just milk and juice boxes.

I can accept that my subconscious is not going to allow me any happy fun time with Mr. Rodgers -- but seriously?  It's not going to even give me some fun voyeueristic pleasure of watching him engaged in some nice kissing?  Didn't Frued suggest that our subconcious is where we can be privately free to engage in the things we would never consider in our waking lives?

Or, perhaps, is the real story that my subconscious is really protecting me?  Is it that, somewhere deep in my brain, I cannot disassociate Mr. Rodgers from another Mr. Rogers?  And, if  I were to start to be free, Mr. Rodgers would morph into:

[insert Psycho music here]