A middle-aged woman wanted me to be her dominatrix, and her husband was prepared to pay for the service. For whatever reason, I had recently started advertising this as a sideline-business, so I accepted the task in principle. Trouble is I really have no idea how to dominate someone.
Clear metaphor I reckon, for the imposter syndrome that all of us – all of us – have had, right?
In my case, this dream was probably prompted by some meetings I’d recently had with a potential new business partner. Best not elaborated on; but in my head I nicknamed my would-be colleague “Mr Sexy,” due to his frequent and inopportune use of that adjective.