WOKEN BY GUILT

I am plagued with kissing dreams.

NOT the wonderful salacious dreams about participating in a game of tonsil hockey with Paul Walker or Max Greenfield. (The kind of dreams where, should you awake before the fantasy finishes, you pray for the Sandman to transport you back to dreamland.) No, rather I am afflicted with coworker kissing dreams. (The kind of dream where, should you see said coworker the very next day, you pray for memory block or turn red with utter embarrassment.)

Last night, while involved in a make out dream with my hot coworker, I was startled awake by profound guilt.

I told David, he laughed.

I should have prayed for the Sandman.