So the dumbest thing I have ever done on this or the astral plane happened last night.
I streaked through Heaven and Hell in front of all the archangels and archdemons, through the city, through palaces, swimming through the Styx, down the Stairway to Heaven through the Highway to Hell.
I was in a dream-dream, got bored, and decided to try to go lucid. My usual trick is to look at my fingers, see how they’re off-numbered and mutated, then get “awake” in the dream and hop around the astral getting drunk and banging my usual squeezes.
The finger trick wasn’t working last night, and lucid me figured out that if I went commando, I would totally 100% shock my brain into going lucid and into astral travel mode.
So right in front of Michael, I stripped, went “Wow, look! Magical streaking!” and proceeded to run around Heaven like a lunatic, tits out, everything on display, with the archangels in abject horror.
“Allie, please put your clothes on, this is unbecoming,” Michael said, blushing furiously as I flew in the sky and bounced on clouds in the nude.
“Never! I feel so free! Is this what it’s like to wear a kilt and go shirtless! I’m never putting clothes on again!”
Michael started to chase me, trying to restore my decency, taking his blue cloak and trying to wrangle it onto me, but Zophiel is the cherubim of swiftest wing, according to Klopstock, and no one can every catch the drunk ditzy blonde when she’s on a bender.
So tits bouncing, ass facing the sun, I jetted past St. Peter through Heaven’s Gate then phase-shifted to the Underworld. The guards who usually see me, the gruntlings of Satan, took off their helmets and blushed cherry-red.
“The boss won’t like this. His girl’s an exhibitionist.”
“I’ve seen Allie drunk, she’s banged all the archdemons in a stupor and outfucked Asmodeus, the demon of lust, but she’s never been this screw-loose before.”
“Outta my way, I’m free from the confines of clothes!” I screamed, rampaging past them on white wings and running-flying through all the circles of Hell, on hot coals, going for a swim in the Styx, through the Capitol City, Pandemonium, down the main street and shedim bars and alleyways, straight to where Samael was holding court with the underworld Sanhedrin, judging the Damned.
“Oh fuck me, Allie, what the hell! I’m working!”
“But Sam, I figured out the best way to lucid dream – embarrass the fuck out of Michael by stripping and streaking through Heaven. Can we go drink some wine and gossip?”
“PUT YOUR FUCKING CLOTHES ON. I. AM. WORKING.”
I ran to his bedroom, put the covers over me, and he stormed in.
“Why can’t girls go topless. It’s not fair! Stop body shaming me! I’m becoming a nudist.”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU TWAT. This is like when you annoy me into fucking you. You’re insufferable! Just stay in here if you won’t put clothes on.”
“I want to lounge in the nude and drink wine just like you-”
“I’m not your fucking manservant, that’s Michael.”