A dream - Melanie

Her name was Melanie, and we had been at her place talking for a while, enjoying each others company.  She was pretty, and young, and blonde with long hair.  I leaned in to kiss her, wondering if she would be receptive.  She was, and she kissed me back.  I covered her face with small kisses... her cheek, her lips, her neck, and her lips again, her forehead, her ears, her neck again.  I leaned her back as we kissed, and we were completely absorbed in each other.  I moved my hand up under her shirt and felt her breast.  I kissed her neck and her ear again, and pulled her shirt up and moved my kissing down.  This went on for some time, we both got really excited, and I had to stop.  Stop!  STOP!  "STOP!" I said.  I told her that we had to stop, I was getting too excited, we had to stop.  She pulled away and sat up and regarded me with a funny smile.  I got up kind of awkwardly and went into the bathroom to splash water on my face.  When I was in there, I heard noises in the house, of several people.  I hurried back out and caught a glimpse of Melanie sitting on the edge of her bed in her underwear and T-shirt, hands clasped and head down slightly.  When I caught her eye, there was a look of intense anger and almost hatred on her face in the way she regarded me.  I turned and saw that her entire family had arrived... mother, father, brothers and sisters, and several friends, and they were throwing a party.  Everyone was there, and our moment was over.  I went over to Melanie and sat next to her, and she scooched over hurriedly to get away from me.  I asked her what was wrong, and she said, "I hate you!" I was completely befuddled and shocked, and hurt.  What had I done? What the hell had I done?  I asked her, and she wouldn't talk to me.  I kept asking her, what did I do?  All she would say was "You know what you did!" What?  WHAT?  I grew exasperated.  I thought to myself... wasn't it always like this?  I'll never understand women and why they get mad.  They get pissed at me and I have no idea why.  I asked her one more time why she was angry with me.  "You should have told me my family was here!  You should have told me!  You disgust me!  Get away from me!"  I stood there and held my breath.  How was I supposed to know?  I had been in the bathroom when they showed up, I didn't know they were coming until they got here.  I thought, I'm not guilty!  I don't deserve this!  I imagined trying to explain all of this to her, how her anger for me was completely misplaced.  I imagined trying to describe the exact state of my brain and the synapses and how they were firing, and how that would completely describe my thoughts and my memories and my intentions and my innocence in this matter, but that would have just been exhausting, and it wouldn't have done a bit of good.  Her anger and hatred wasn't based on logic, it was based on woman.  Nevertheless... I exhaled slowly and approached her, and tried to... talk to her, to connect with her again somehow, but she started swatting at me and backing away.  It was at that moment that I noticed the Orthodox cross she was wearing around her neck.  It was gold, and encrusted with diamonds, and beautiful and shining.  I stopped and gasped, and said, "Oh my God, are you Orthodox?!"  And she stopped too, regarded me in confusion, and said, "Yes..." and I pulled my cross from under my shirt and let it lie on my chest.  She saw it and she too gasped.  We looked at each other, and she said, "I guess we have no choice.  We have to be friends." And she came forward and embraced me.