The link is somewhat work safe depending on your work environment. There are nude blue people but I can't make out any breasts or cocks or anything, but the site is apparently giving some people banner ads with tits on it.
So, work safe for cool work environments, maybe not so much for conservative ones.
My shrink went ga ga today when I told her about my dream last night. Seriously I think she filled up five pages of her notebook front and back.
"That's a really good dream," she said.
I felt like I got a gold star.
So, what's the dream you may ask?
Here it is:
First off the dream felt "longer" than most dreams I have and also more "solid" - almost like a memory.
It started off with me being on vacation somewhere and having to take a piss. I'm in a bar and I go into the bathroom and it's the worst bathroom in the world - and the floor is covered in shit. I'm wearing flip flops - the type that soak up water and the shit literally soaks into them.
After I take a piss in the shit filled toilet I notice that even though this is a men's room there is an immaculately dressed very clean woman in there with me. I try to look at her but she turns her face away. But I can see her face very clearly in the mirror. And it's a face I recognize, but I can't remember who exactly she is. Like when you see an actor on Law and Order and know you've seen them somewhere before but just can't place it.
She tells me that she's going to be someone very important to the world but she needs to learn things from other women before she can be what she's meant to be. She then tells me that the bathroom is a time machine that will allow her to travel and learn. And she tells me that if I follow her I'll find out who she is.
So, at this point I'm desperate to find out who she is, so I follow her. We end up in India years ago and when we step out of the bathroom she uses a hose to clean the shit off my shoes and it feels cold and clean and nice.
Then she talks to Gahndi's daughter. When she's done we leave by going into another dirty bathroom where my feet and flip flops again get coated in shit before the time machine brings us some place else.
This cycle is repeated through several women and times including Joan of Arc, Maggie Thatcher and Benezar Bhutto. Each time we get to the place she washes the shit off my feet. Sometimes with a hose, other times with streams and one time with an ocean.
After each visit I feel like the name of the woman is on the tip of my tongue but I just can't quite make it out. Also, every time I try to look directly at her face I can't see her - but she's always staring at the bathroom mirror and in the mirror I can see her.
Finally I wake up - never having figured out who she is.
And I've been trying all day to figure out who she is and the image of her face is almost burned into my mind.