This is why a dream life is so important. I go back to places I've been before and loved. It is like time traveling. I am the young woman I was and the old woman I've become. I'm the best of both women in my dreams.
But when I was twenty one I drove down the Dalmatian Coast of Yugoslavia. Yes children, there was once a Yugoslavia. Those where the days of Tito, and every home had a framed photograph of the glorious leader near the front door. The Dalmatian Coast has now been divvied up into bits and pieces, but when I was there it was all Yugoslavia. In my real young life I traveled with two young Italian men from Rome to Trieste, the northern gulf port city on the Adriatic sea, and then followed the Yugoslavian coastline down to a small town south of Debrovnik called Split.
All the way down the coast we stayed in homes, not hotels. It was a wonderful way to get to know the people of Yugoslavia, and they were lovely, kind, generous and incredibly beautiful. The homes we stayed in were probably fairly prosperous, but still a bit primitive. I don't remember a single home with real indoor plumbing. Bedrooms had chamber pots, and showers were taken in the outdoors standing in an enclosure with a hose providing the soft cold water that I came to believe was the reason every Yugoslavian I met had shiny hair and beautiful skin and healthy, lovely teeth and smiles. And every home had at least three generations of a family living together. And still they shared what they had with us, giving up one room with several beds.
The reason the Italians were traveling to Split was to work at a Club Mediterranean on a small island off the coast. The only way to get to the island was by ferry boat that traveled between the island and Split twice a day. I stayed in town rooming in a small home close to the ferry landing. And I often spent the day on the island playing with the other world travelers while being catered to by my Italian friends and meeting travelers from all over the world. It was like a very good dream. The waters of the Adriatic sea were warm and salty soft. Every kind of water sport was available. The meals were great and the parties in the evening were fun with live music, lots of dancing and good wine and beer. And the only passport I needed there was my lovely face and form. Sad but true, the pretty can lead charmed lives. At meals I was invited to Isreal by a beautiful fierce Sabra, to Spain by a lovely Spaniard, to France by a handsome Frenchman, and so on. In the end, I decided to continue traveling with my Italian friends to Greece.
When we got to the Albanian border I was refused admittance because of my American passport. So we drove back to Dubrovnik and I took a ferry from Dubrovnik to Bari Italy. I could tell you more of this adventure, but I'll save that for another day.
The reason for this trip down memory lane was the lovely, very sexy dream I had last night. I believe I was either in Dubrovnik or Split. I was helping out in a restaurant and fell in lust with the eldest son of the owner. We were about to leave the restaurant to go to his home, but first I needed to do something that took me into one of the old streets, medieval architecture, winding passages, and then I found my way back to find this lovely man still waiting patiently. As we were about to leave, I awoke. I wanted to go back to sleep to continue this dream but my dog was standing beside the bed, waiting patiently for me to take him outside, into the frigid, snowy back yard to... Well you know.
Even now two hours later my nipples are still erect and I still feel the power of the attraction to this particularly gorgeous Yugoslavian man, waiting patiently.