Flying Penises Cathy awoke with a start, one of those unpleasant ones with her heart throbbing almost too hard for her chest to handle. She was tense, aroused and wet, but also scared and confused. The dream, she thought with tears in her eyes that she really didn't know why they squeezed out of her head, that dream again. Of flying penises. She got out of bed and got dressed, suddenly completely uninterested in her body’s urges. She dialed the emergency number to Margaret, her psychic, but was yet again greeted by the “I am on vacation enjoying drinks with tiny umbrellas” voice mail message, so she hung up. “I have to figure this one out myself”, she thought, but also knew that she possessed no psychic powers of any kind, and was really pretty mundane overall. Despite the fact that she was stinking rich and raised in a walled garden high above the lesser rabble, of course. Those were not thoughts she entertained this night, nor any other for that matter. Cathy was short for Catherine, a name she had loathed since her teens. Ignoring the name's proper form was the only rebellion she’d had a chance to exact upon her absent parents. Anyway, Cathy-that-was-actually-Catherine snuck outside without anyone noticing. She went to the circus, just in time to see the late night show, it was before midnight still after all. Perhaps all those flying penises meant that she would fall head over heels in love with one of those fellows who swung around in swings high in the air, the trapeze artists. Cathy entertained such romantic notions, sometimes well aware of what nonsense it was, but still, here she was. But, even from her vantage point from the audience, she could clearly see that there were no penises swinging about at the circus. It was an all-women show. She left, but immediately felt foolish. What if one of the women were a man? She had read of such a thing, and her friend Kendra had IM’d her photos of something called a shemale. Cathy had no idea how that was even possible, but photos don't lie, so she went back again, trying to find the trapeze artists' trailer behind the circus tent. Security thought otherwise, and firmly escorted her off the premesis. She started to explain her errand, and almost got annoyed, but caught herself and decided that the whole thing might sound a wee bit crazy. And after all, where would the artists hide their penises during the show, wearing snug bodysuits and all? Cathy felt foolish for a while, but then it hit her: Perhaps she was looking for a sailor? The flying penises were throbbing, and freakishly large, after all. What throbbed more than a ship’s engine? Oh wait, a train, an old train, she thought! But no, that didn’t feel right and Margaret the Psychic always told her to go with her feelings. Cathy went to a biker bar to ask the bikers, they were a manly lot after all, where she might find throbbing penises. She got quite the attention there, mostly from overly painted and scantily clad women who sneered and spat at her, one even scratched her while grabbing her arm. The aggressive woman promised to "do her", which could only mean her hair but Cathy didn’t think it sounded very friendly. Would she do it poorly, color it in such a way that it would make her a carrot top, or perhaps even cut it? Cathy surely didn’t want to find out, and neither did the barkeep apparently, because he basically threw her out. She started to explain to him about the flying penises, but the only thing he suggested was that maybe she should fly home. An airfield then. She tried to hail a cab but she wasn't carrying any money and now she was starting to get a bit suspicious as to what people would think about her quest for flying penises. Better play it safe and walk, despite it being quite a walk to boot, out of town and all. The airfield was deserted. It was the middle of the night after all. Cathy started to look for clues that would point her to whatever the flying penises would mean, and although she did find what must have been some sort of penis protection contraption made of rubber thrown in the bushes, there was nothing else. Tired and heartbroken Cathy started to walk home. As she looked to the sky she saw a star fall, and beyond it a myriad of flying penises, coming straight for her. Again she felt that tingling feeling, she felt aroused and wet, and she wanted to take off her clothes and welcome them all, as the penises grew nearer. They are here! I found them! Flying penises! She sat up in bed. The alarm clock went tick tock, tick tock. There were no flying penises there. “I hate this dream”, Cathy said aloud. And then I awoke, and I sorely agree with that Cathy girl. I hate this dream too.