Anyway: I seem to be going through one of my dream-remembering phases just now. From the last two nights:
I was on a train with cast members of The Big Bang Theory, who were wholly in character. Now I love that show: I was also at a university for long enough to observe how the rarified upper slopes of academia seem to select for people who could kindly be described as "a bit odd". Sheldon Cooper, for instance. His UEA archetype was a guy doing post-doctoral studies in applied mathematics and physics and had eccentricities to match. (OCD combined with a compulsion that he could prove the existence of God mathematically). TBBT, after a while, stops being a straight comedy and has overtones of documentary. Loved it.
Anyway. I interacted with Amy Farrah-Fowler and Howard Wolowitz aboard the train. And then this weird device, like a single tall thin wheel about a foot tall, with some sort of control box attached, rolled down the aisle of the train and disappeared through the door at the end, through a sort of vertical hatch that seemed designed to fit its slightly off-centred shape. Amy turned round to Howard and asked if he intended to follow it to see where it went and what it was actually for. Howard made a disinterested "meh" noise and went back to his laptop. Amy then lost it and angrily demanded to know if anybody on this train has got any sort of intellectual curiosity at all, are are you more interested in your computers and can't be bothered to investigate when something genuinely odd happens here, right in front of us, in real life? She was quite annoyed, in fact.
And last night I was in some sort of upmarket hotel. Technically I was in the next room, but some sort of partition or screen had lowered and while we still in separate rooms, a woman I used to know was sitting on her side of the partition, about four feet away, fixated on the TV screen in front of her, looking at something with complete rapt attention with her face only about a foot from the screen. She was close enough to reach out and touch, and recognising her and knowing we'd thought pretty well of each other in real life, I reached through and stroked her neck. She didn't react and remained fixated on the screen. And it was a real female neck I was stroking, from the nape down to the top of the back.
Some explanation: the lady, who I shall call Anne, is somebody I knew round about the turn of the millenia. I'd been with her sister for a while, but we'd separated. At the time we were both with other people, but it was one of those situations where we both knew we found each other attractive. You know that when it happens. Unmistakable and good for the ego, I hope in both directions. But at the same time you know acting on it would have caused a lot of dung to cascade from a great height - we were both with other people - so you accept it's there, do nothing about it, flirt a little and just appreciate each other and move on. You just leave the other stuff alone. (Boring, but I think they call it "maturity").
I was never in love with her, just found her pleasant and sympathetic and very attractive.
Anyway, I wondered why she simply hadn't registered me being there. Perplexing. Somebody touching your neck usually gets a reaction. I saw she'd moved on from the TV and was now deeper in the room talking to another woman who I didn't recognise; I had the urge to go in there and explain to Anne, flat out, that I found her to be personally and sexually attractive, maybe put my arms around her waist and be a little more emphatic. Having decided to do this, I went in, aware that by even going in I'd intruded on her personal space.... and there was nobody there. Empty. Another perplexing dream!