Dog is My Co-pilot

I had a weird waking dream last night, that was really more of reliving a memory. I was in alpha sleep, but I was thinking about a woman I had seen a long time ago, in an airport.

At the airport, you always spend a goodly amount of time waiting at the gate. I don’t remember where I was going or why, but I do remember this woman. She was approaching middle-age, but still beautiful and sexy. She had tan, freckled skin, strong bones, strawberry blonde hair. She was wearing an expensive “business suit” made for a woman, which meant a smart jacket and shirt, open collar showing plenty of cleavage, and a very short wool skirt, pantyhose and heels. The skirt was so short that she had to cross her legs to maintain any sense of public decency.

I was in love. Here was a beautiful woman, obviously intelligent and “all business”, dressed like an uncommon whore. Think Sigourney Weaver or Angie Dickinson.

So last night, I had this long conversation with her, or really, with myself, about how I would approach her in an airport and try to get to know her, because she was so fascinating. I wanted to know why such a lovely and capable woman was dressed like a corporate whore, and well, you can’t just walk up and ask, can you? Well you can, but you won’t get a very real answer.

So my “ploy” was simply to approach her as a gay man, and say right out that I’m not interested in banging her but I’d love to get to know her. In hindsight, I may have been approaching this obvious man trap like a poor man - if you don’t value the goods, or if you don’t have the money, keep walking.

But for some reason I liked the idea, that maybe this woman, this whore of Babylon personified, might like to talk with a man who sees her, and is curious about her, and certainly the sex object aspect is fascinating, but who doesn’t actually want to fuck her. An interesting way to spend the next 10 minutes before boarding the flight?

So anyway, it was curious that I remembered this memory so strongly last night, and of course, I wonder if she was not personifying my own anima, which was why she resonated so strongly for me, in the first place.

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NOTES:

I had some strong “Cross” syncs today. Are the crossed legs of my virgin whore also represented by the cross of Christendom? This is one of those questions that get you tossed out of Seminary, but perhaps initiated into the Illuminati.

Dog = Dog Star = Sirius = Isis = Divine Feminine. Just saying.