and she said.. "how you interpret the dream is probably more important than the dream itself"

It's only Thursday but it's nice out and I feel like it so what the hell we'll call this post Saturday secrets - why? Because I can and I feel like it; nobody, ain't nobody, gonna tell me I can't call a post on Thursday afternoon "Saturday secrets". Helluva way to start, huh? Like a child, petulant, and anti-authorative. Delicious. Wonderful. Let's continue..

The secret is that I'm a gemini and, while I share some traits with my fellow two-faced groupies I am certainly not exactly like all of them. In fact I'm a May gemini which puts me in the minority and don't ever let a June Jemini tell you they're as rare or special as a May gemini because they're just lying through their teeth. They know better.

The secret is that, as a gemini, I have unfortunately and exceedingly delicate taste. Sure, I can hog it like the rest of 'em, eat from the trough buffet style, and roll in my own shit (preferrably, since mine don't stink) but that doesn't mean I always want to.

The secret is that freckles do me in and freak me out - not as if they're catching but more like a big warning sign: whoa, slow down, not here, go back. I could never quite figure them out and it's why I've been scratching my brain about those elusive redheads for almost my whole life. I say almost because I think I actually remember the first time I thought about girls and then after that the first time I thought about redheads and, yah, they really are a breed of their own. They aren't exactly a "girl" per se. Maybe a nymph; something with a little bit of evil in it and not just because red=devil or any of that typical bullshit but because there is a certain flare, a certain something about being a somebody, being a something that is someone somewhat unique. It's recessive, you know.

So while all those redheads out there may be drop dead freckle-gorgeous bombshells I can't put my finger on it and I can't get over it but they just unnerve me like an undead butler in a haunted house opens the front doors; with his eyes, just by looking at it.

Only one redhead I ever really looked over closely and even then I knew I had no chance, couldn't handle the fiery spirits; could barely keep up with the topic let alone the hundreds of freckles dancing around in front of my eyes like so many starry - eye was surprised I could even feel my face; I ran away.

Someday, I figure, if things work out that way and I have, at some point down the line, that sort of planetariffic sky-scape of tiny red stars and galaxies and clusters well, I, well, I just imagine I'd be straight up wrong if I didn't sit down (immediately) and, connect the dots. I'd connect one to the other, then the next one, and damned if I wouldn't follow that maze all the way to the center of the universe.