Freya

Date: 12/8/2016

Dream about a girl called Freya. I’m not sure where we meet, but I feel like it’s an art exhibition or opening. I think she’s staying with A (a former girlfriend). I think she seems nice but she’s a bit reticent at first, nothing in particular stands out about her. I don’t pay close attention. She looks just like the ex girlfriend of an artist friend I met while travelling. Brown-blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, some non-descript clothes on the cute side, like a thin cardigan, jeans and striped t-shirt. Maybe some polka dots somewhere. Skinny and slightly boyish frame. Suddenly it comes up that she’s grown up in Indonesia, and that she lived there until she was 27. She becomes more animated and a cheeky smile appears. Hints of exotic anecdotes and big ideas. I suddenly realise how beautiful she is. The plain look is actually the celebrity-on-a-day-off look, she’s stunning. Wide smile, fine features, clear skin and sparkling eyes with just a little bit of weariness in them that balances all the exuberance. We have to go, I go to kiss her goodbye. But without a hesitation from either of us it becomes a kiss on the lips. The kind of kiss that feels like the start of something big. Later I am with A. She is standing above me doing something on some kind of ledge in a room. Hanging a picture or something. In a kind and playful kind of gesture she lifts her leg around my head and lets me under her long dress. I can smell the sweet sweat between her legs, matted hair poking out from behind day-old knickers. I lift my head up and take it all in, intoxication takes hold. I start running my nose and mouth over her thighs and knickers, beginning to lift them here and there and poke my tongue in behind them. In a pause in proceedings she starts talking about Freya, and saying she thinks she’s becoming friends with her. With an excitement I can hardly contain, I tell her that we might be more than friends, as of 10 minutes ago. Later I start to look Freya up online, and am amazed again. She’s actually some kind of hotshot international curator. Why is she after little old me I wonder, she must actually just like me.