Something I Probably Shouldn't Post

Last night I had a kissing dream. Well, kind of. The osculation itself was not at all scandalous, but the kisser was. It was one of the missionaries serving in our branch. OOPS!
In my dream, I was dropping this Elder off at the mission home. He was about to go home the next day. For those of you not familiar with LDS missionary culture, there are a few basic rules to know which will facilitate understanding the scandal of my dream. First, the mission is a no-dating time. Members of the opposite sex need to be at arm's length at all times. Also, there are all kinds of rules even regarding being with people of the other gender even in teaching situations. These days, two young men aren't allowed to teach an old lady without other people around, in particular another man. Second, a missionary is always with his companion. Third, a set of male missionaries would not be allowed to ride in my car without a man present. Once in real life, I did have to drive six Elders to the mission home for transfers, but I don't really know how I got the job. I didn't think anything of it, but maybe because there were so many of them?
Anyway, enough background, I think.
So in my dream, there was just the one missionary in my car because he was going home and his replacement had already been sent over to be with the old companion. I guess I got the job of driving this guy around because I'm the ever-responsible Relief Society President or something.
So I drive up and get out of the car to help this missionary with his stuff. He just had this one huge duffel bag, but I walked him to the door anyway. Oddly, it looked like my parents' doorstep, but I guess that's a minor detail. So I said something like, "It's been super nice working with you-- take care" and he went in for a hug. In my dream, I started yelling something like "Not appropriate! NOT APPROPRIATE!" And then he kissed me. Well, my ear. It was very, very odd.
The worst part of the dream, though, was that his mission president found out and then he got sent home dishonorably even though he had less than 12 hours left as a missionary. I woke up this morning with my hands over my head, thinking I'd just ruined this guy's life (even though I'd like to point out I wasn't enjoying what was going on in the dream) and it took about five minutes before I realized that it hadn't really happened. Talk about trauma.
I told Pam this morning that the only thing I could figure was my brain acknowledges my kissing addiction, and because it's been nearly two weeks since my last kissing episode, it thought I needed some kind of a fix. But I really would have preferred my brain providing somebody else for the hero/villain of my dream. Like Michael Stipe. I used to have kissing dreams about him all the time, and they were delightful.