Major Tom's a Junkie

Rachel K. of New York State writes:

I think this might be a totally gay dream:

I was catering a large banquet where David Bowie (in the thin white duke years) was a guest. He snatched a lipstick-smeared, partially-sipped cappuccino off my bus tray and floated a piece of Welsh rarebit made with a butter biscuit on top, waited for it to partially disintegrate, then followed me around slurping at it and trying to get me to taste it. I went to the end of a table to make more coffee, and found that I was actually grinding dead baby souls instead of coffee beans. They made a very weak brew while this song started playing throughout the hall: "And the babies were sad, sad, sad. And the coffee was bad, bad, bad."

Welsh Rarebit is, of course, quite a delicious, little snack of toast points smothered in a cheesy sauce. Who wouldn't want to eat this? I think you'd love to have a bite of this snack, which represents a woman's vagina, but you're also put off by the idea because of your deeply embedded ideas about gender roles and sexuality. So ingrained is your guilt over your lesbian tendencies, that you'd made Welsh Rarebit (vagina) into something repulsive in your dream: no longer is it just delicious bread and cheese, but covered with a cookie and dipped into some other woman's cup of coffee. You're telling yourself that Sapphic pleasure is for someone else, but not for you - even though you crave it.

Bowie's "white duke" period was, of course, that period of time when some of the world saw him as finally looking somewhat "normal," while the rest of us could spot his drug-induced emaciation from a mile away. The move to "normal" that some people thought they witnessed - and many HOPED they were witnessing - was a move away from his previous gender-bending, androgynous, glam public persona. You've, in effect, had a dream about the world's most famous drag queen pretending to be "normal,"  actually looking a hot mess, and trying to get you to sink your teeth into something disgusting.  

You've equated being a lesbian with abandoning per-ordained female roles, such as that of motherhood. Your grinding of all the babies is your dream-state interpretation of what it means to be a lesbian:  your own guilt over your latent homosexuality is telling you that a "real" woman has babies, while a sick and twisted lesbian is actually the destroyer of creation. Guilty much, Rachel? 

Your subconscious mind is rallying against your obvious sexual appetite for other women, and pulling out the big guns to try and keep you from embracing your true sexual identity. You're not just a dyke, you're a baby-killer! But, let's get real; the Thin, White Duke died a long time ago, and even David Bowie is Team Vagina, these days.  Also gone are the days when Welsh Rarebit was served as a meat substitute, on days  there was no luck on a hunt.  People order Welsh Rarebit off restaurant menus, these days - as a FIRST CHOICE. And lesbians openly opt for vagina. 

Totes gay.