The boyfriend’s celebrity sex meta-dream with me as the title character.

When I woke him this morning, the first thing he said was, “I had a funny dream.”

Bern was reading Ricky Lee’s Si Amapola sa 65 na Kabanata. Except that in his dream, the book was not a novel; it was a poetry anthology. One of the poems was titled after my full name and described a time when Ricky Lee and I had sex. It sounded explicit.

I’m sure Ricky Lee would have written it beautifully, but I don’t think I wanted to know how that poem actually went. It was satisfying to know that the dream version of myself was just as horrified at the idea of a poem describing intercourse where I was one of the participants.

It sounds hypocritical since I’ve written about sexual encounters before. But on those times that I did, I’ve kept the more explicit details away, leaving only teasing hints that leave the reader to imagine what could have happened.

Si Amapola sa 65 na Kabanata

On the other hand, the dream reminded me to include Si Amapola sa 65 na Kabanata in my next book purchase. I hope the book’s content is better than its cover.