Pull up to the bumper baby

Woke up at 4:30am from a dream of going into bondage/fantasy apparel shop. I was checking out several items including this big, crochet, pink, sweater that you then strapped on yourself with your choice of long leather or rope cords. I was then looking at shoes, and I pulled out a catalogue where I saw what I called” the Grace Jones boots” ( black flat sandal style with open work flat lateral leather straps all the way up the calf). I was talking about the first time I had seen Grace Jones wearing them in 1976 with the shop girl (an immensely tall, thin, pretty white boy TV) when she gave me a spontaneous “reading” mostly about PCH*, an Egypto-mystic sect I supposedly had some connection with which ended with her very long fingers going up my nose like at the end of the tenth rolfing session. I then told her how lucky it was that I had previously been rolfed or I would have completely freaked out not to mention she would not have been able to get them up there. We were reviewing the notes she’d been writing while sort of “ channeling” when I woke up.

*You don’t have to point out to me that PCH can also stand for Publisher’s Clearinghouse.