My ex husband is sucking on my right breast. His head is buried...he is not looking at me to see how I respond. I am feeling very frustrated as his tongue and mouth feel like that of a cow. He does not treat the nipple differently than the skin on my breast. I do not say anything.
I am in a living room standing in front of a tall white older man with clear glasses. Someone hands me the right shoe of a woman. It looks victorian, but also sexy and evil....black...scuplted heel about 3 inches high...not quite a boot but no skin would show up to the ankle. There are two rows buttons up the front...black elastic fasteners in between ...a few hooks and eyes...some of the latter are missing.
The man says that I need to fix the shoe...there are more hooks and eyes somewhere in the boxes in the living room.
There are lots of boxes with Christmas decorations and ornaments...it will be a lot of work to go through them and find the hooks and eyes...so I delegate some of the work to him. You do these and I'll do those. He does not object.
Next my ex-husband takes me and my son, about 5...10 years younger than he is now, to stay with a dark woman with short hair. My son is sitting on my right leg facing to my left...across from us is the woman...I tell my son that she is a teacher. My son who does not speak starts talking to her non-stop about a girl he sees on the bus to school that he does not like with a face that is all squished up. The way he describes the girl makes me think of a picture of me when I was her and his age. I am amazed at how well he is speaking and how detailed his description is.
Next I visit a girls bathroom with a young white girl and a young black girl. The sinks and the toilets are not clean...so the two of them sit on a bench and I stand. The black girl hands the white girl a comb. It is purple and shaped like a fish...it looks like a fish skeleton. The white girl combs her hair and hands the comb to me. It is very much like a comb I had as a teenager...they were sold at the beach we used to vacation at in the summer.
Next my son, who appears as a girl with black hair, and I are in the living room with the boxes. He walks over to a black upholstered chair and says "Look, someone left a needle here...you have to thread it." There is a sewing needle with a large eye....and a long pice of black thread.
