We are in a department store, but have gotten locked in for the night. There is soft dance music coming from the P.A. system.
I am lying asleep in a large clear plastic container filled with stuffed animals. I know that I am dreaming when I "see" his face above me, looking in. I can feel that my eyes are closed. He looks down at me, smiling, and taking me by the hand, helps me out of the container.
He is wearing a tuxedo and his hair, which is blonde, is nicely combed back, but acts like it doesn't want to stay and falls over his forehead, a very sexy look, sort of like Peter Lorre's.
There is a mirror on the other side of the room, and I look into it. I am not myself anymore, but tall and thin with jet black hair that is wrapped around my head so that it is in a big "beehive"? at the back of my head with a long curl at the side of my face. I think the best way to describe this is the way Hope used to dress on Days of Our Lives for a fancy party.
I am wearing the mauve dress that I wore as a bridesmaid at my sister's wedding in 1993. I gasp when I look at myself; I have the body to wear the dress now. It has skinny straps and comes to knee length. At the wedding, I had to wear a little chiffon? shirt under it because I didn't look very good in bare shoulders.
He stands behind me, smiling, quite pleased with how I look, too. We walk away from the mirror and start to dance. I have never danced with a man before, but my feet glide across the floor as if they have a mind of their own. We're hugging as we're dancing. My face is in his neck, and I smell his aftershave/cologne/whatever, and it smells good. Our bodies are rubbing against each other, almost as if we're making love standing up. but I do not remember feeling an erection. We dance normally again and he "dips" me. What an incredible sensation! He picks me up and swings me around like a rag doll, laughing in my ear as I hold on as tight as I can. My feet are off the floor.
As he's putting me down, his lips brush my cheek, and the music stops. We are both panting. He cups his face in his hands, bending to kiss me on the lips, but changes his mind and kisses my cheek again. I was so disappointed. I wanted to feel his lips on mine.
He seems to sense this and says, "Not now. There is plenty of time later." He walks away. I wake up.
A few years later, I had another dream about him, but it was so graphic that it can't be posted on this site.
I posted one a few months ago, though. It's called, "Pseudo-sex with Professor Petrie". I'm not sure why I have them so few and far between. I love it when I have these dreams.
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