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Nudie Dreams and Yummy Dim Sum

A couple nights ago, I dreamt that I was naked in an unfamiliar household in which everyone else was clothed. I think I was there with my boyfriend (nameless, faceless dream Boyfriend Guy ... who was also fully clothed), and his parents were very upset that I wasn't wearing any clothes. I felt no shame or remorse, however, and simply insisted that I didn't think it was a problem.

I figure this was a dream about metaphorical nudity, since I've had a number of dreams recently in which I was naked in the presence of other people who were clothed ... but without me feeling uncomfortable or shy.

Now, I'm not sure that just randomly going naked in strangers' houses is the best idea ever, but the confident metaphorical nakedness seems like it may say good things about the way I'm seeing myself right now.

Also, I note that none of these recent Nudalicious Kimberly dreams have included even the slightest hint of embarrassment about my unshaven legs being visible ... which in the past has usually been the focus of any dream nudity thoughts. So that's cool, too!

In other news, Shannon and I went on a lovely, spontaneous date yesterday evening, biking down to Oakland Chinatown to pick up tasty dim sum at Sun Sing, then munching our takeaway dinner in Jack London Square while sitting on a bench beneath a pavilion that looked out over the water and the boats.

[Random aside: I try to get something new every time I go to Sun Sing, so this time I tried the deep fried shrimp wrapped in bacon. Okay, not the healthiest dish I might have ordered, perhaps, but AMAZING. But, then, most things would probably taste amazing if wrapped in bacon and deep fried. Shannon seemed horrified that I wanted to eat such an unhealthy thing, but I figured that it was only about an inch square, so such a tiny morsel surely could not do significant harm to my arteries. And, really, what's life without a bit of bacon now and then?]

Anyway, we hung out at the marina, chatted, read the first chapter of Louise Erdrich's fantabulous Tales of Burning Love (which we've both read before), noticed that every single employee of Kincaid's (restaurant) seems to smoke (as there was a constant stream of aproned people taking smoke breaks outside their back door the whole time we were there), watched tourists roaming around, grieved quietly for the Barnes and Noble that used to be a major part of Jack London Square but which is now gone, pondered why the pavilion beneath which we sat had a very sturdy and official electrical "Exit" sign hanging from one top edge (Who posts an "Exit" sign on the edge of a pavilion? I mean, first of all, pavilions are OUTSIDE, and therefore don't really have exits; and, second of all, pretty much any direction you go from inside a pavilion is an exit! I found this sign puzzling, and yet strangely, absurdly wonderful. I should have taken a photo of it, but I don't think a picture would really communicate the ironic openness of the context.), and just generally relaxed and hung out and enjoyed the sunshine and the breeze and each other's company.

Then we biked home, and I huffed and I puffed and I did not blow the house down, but I did take a number of breaks to catch my breath along the route, and Shannon was very patient with me. I think I'm better now at biking up hills without getting snippy with him, and he's better about not getting impatient with me, so the combination makes for much happier riding.

Today, I have a fairly long list of things to do, so it's a good thing I haven't been napping so much this last week or so.

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