Another wonderful (and weird) dream.
The dream begins like this; I am in a room, a comfortable and lived in room, one fashioned like a composite of the rooms of my house. There are two beautiful ladies standing at one end. One is standing back from the other, as if to present her to me. That is the purpose of me being here, to meet this beautiful young girl. When I entered the room, both girls seemed bashful and excited and now I know why, and my heart is fluttering with equal excitement. The woman I am to meet is stunning, absolutely stunning. She is the exemplary totem of what I know I find beautiful. She has long dark hair down to her shoulders, smooth skin with elegantly and artistically placed tattoos showing on her chest and arms. She is wearing a cute, white with black polka-dot, dress that I can not help but find adorable, and the bright red trim of the dress perfectly matches a quaint red accessory in her hair. She has her hands clasped behind her back and one of her black stalking covered knees slightly bent to portray a splendid kind of innocence. As I shake her hand to meet her I can not help but to reflect the coy smile she is wearing, it is unstoppable. Then, my dream falls apart.
When the imagery of the dream begins again we are all three laying on a bed, the girl and I nude and slightly tangled. She is laying on her side with her legs over me as I lay on my back perpendicular to her with my head propped up. Thank goodness this is a huge bed. What is funny is that this part of the dream is not entirely sexual, though it most definitely has its origins in my lustful desire. I remember now feeling her skin, running my hands over the gentle curves that only this womans body could posses. I love the feeling of sliding my hand over the curve of her hip. Its almost like I can hear ocean waves breathing in and out as my hand follows her curves up and down, up and down. The blanket that is covering portions of our bodies seems to magically move out of the way when I reach to touch her, and I am thankful that there is no impedance between us. We talk gently, and laugh with each other, and I am not certain, but I dont believe we have even made love. We are simply enjoying the company of each others bodies and minds. My dream falls apart again.
Now, we are clothed again, and the tone of the dream is different. The other girl is no longer with us and is instead replaced by a man, who oddly resembles Gary Busey from the movie Black Sheep, and a 12 year old red headed boy in a teal suit. It is fairly obvious that the sensuality of the dream has been completely eradicated. At least I still have her. The specifics of the dream are irrelevant, save it to say that angry Gary Busey is in charge of caring for the small red headed boy and that the girl and I, while playing with him, accidentally cause him to get hurt. Long story short, Gary Busey starts firing a crossbow at us until we finally prove that the little boy in the 70s style teal tuxedo is alive and well. Where the hell this came from, and why its important I have no clue. All I know is that the beautiful girl and I escape from my home and angry Gary Buseys wrath.
The next chapter of the dream has a much more pleasant, and calm tone to it. The girl and I are sitting on an old swing set with chipped paint, listening to the ocean waves crash against a shore that is only a few paces back from us. The breeze that swells in with the ocean waves is fine and brisk, and carries the scent of the cloud covered north eastern sea. I love looking at her, I love her looking at me, and when our eyes connect its like time stands still and the universe explodes all in the same. I swear when our gazes take hold I can barely even hear the seagulls crying above, or the ocean whispering behind. My mind becomes singularly entwined with motive and thought, and I feel comfortably lost from the world. Our speech is comfortable and loose, without much weight but with great purpose. We stand up and begin walking, and then running, almost chasing each other. Its like being a kid again, with no worries and only love for the world filling your heart. Laughter is the music that the universe produces endlessly and no matter how far you are from your loved one in the chase, their heart is always right next to yours. After the small chase we go into a crowded little bar/restaurant/caf and try to order something to put in our bellies. Unsuccessful, we leave the bar and meander out through the streets. Then comes my favorite, and the most vivid, feeling of the dream, she holds my arm. It may sound silly and clich, but when you have spent the last four years of your life without so much as a single kiss, a woman lovingly holding your arm feels like liquid fire in your heart. And thats what she felt like. The warmth from her body, the feeling of her skin against mine, the very ethereal feeling of her being next to me put a rageless fire into my veins. Passion and love unlocked, unleashed, and fully fed once again.
It is these moments in my dreams that help keep me moving forward, and keep me off pining for a companion. Make no mistake that I desire a good companion, a lover, a woman almost more than anything. But there is a difference between strongly desiring and obsessing. I try to see these dreams as a small sip of water in the desert. It wont ensure youll make it another thousand miles, but it will keep you going another ten feet. Once again, I have no explanation for Gary Busey and the small red headed boy. I will leave that to greater psychological interpretation.
Thank you for reading.
The dream begins like this; I am in a room, a comfortable and lived in room, one fashioned like a composite of the rooms of my house. There are two beautiful ladies standing at one end. One is standing back from the other, as if to present her to me. That is the purpose of me being here, to meet this beautiful young girl. When I entered the room, both girls seemed bashful and excited and now I know why, and my heart is fluttering with equal excitement. The woman I am to meet is stunning, absolutely stunning. She is the exemplary totem of what I know I find beautiful. She has long dark hair down to her shoulders, smooth skin with elegantly and artistically placed tattoos showing on her chest and arms. She is wearing a cute, white with black polka-dot, dress that I can not help but find adorable, and the bright red trim of the dress perfectly matches a quaint red accessory in her hair. She has her hands clasped behind her back and one of her black stalking covered knees slightly bent to portray a splendid kind of innocence. As I shake her hand to meet her I can not help but to reflect the coy smile she is wearing, it is unstoppable. Then, my dream falls apart.
When the imagery of the dream begins again we are all three laying on a bed, the girl and I nude and slightly tangled. She is laying on her side with her legs over me as I lay on my back perpendicular to her with my head propped up. Thank goodness this is a huge bed. What is funny is that this part of the dream is not entirely sexual, though it most definitely has its origins in my lustful desire. I remember now feeling her skin, running my hands over the gentle curves that only this womans body could posses. I love the feeling of sliding my hand over the curve of her hip. Its almost like I can hear ocean waves breathing in and out as my hand follows her curves up and down, up and down. The blanket that is covering portions of our bodies seems to magically move out of the way when I reach to touch her, and I am thankful that there is no impedance between us. We talk gently, and laugh with each other, and I am not certain, but I dont believe we have even made love. We are simply enjoying the company of each others bodies and minds. My dream falls apart again.
Now, we are clothed again, and the tone of the dream is different. The other girl is no longer with us and is instead replaced by a man, who oddly resembles Gary Busey from the movie Black Sheep, and a 12 year old red headed boy in a teal suit. It is fairly obvious that the sensuality of the dream has been completely eradicated. At least I still have her. The specifics of the dream are irrelevant, save it to say that angry Gary Busey is in charge of caring for the small red headed boy and that the girl and I, while playing with him, accidentally cause him to get hurt. Long story short, Gary Busey starts firing a crossbow at us until we finally prove that the little boy in the 70s style teal tuxedo is alive and well. Where the hell this came from, and why its important I have no clue. All I know is that the beautiful girl and I escape from my home and angry Gary Buseys wrath.
The next chapter of the dream has a much more pleasant, and calm tone to it. The girl and I are sitting on an old swing set with chipped paint, listening to the ocean waves crash against a shore that is only a few paces back from us. The breeze that swells in with the ocean waves is fine and brisk, and carries the scent of the cloud covered north eastern sea. I love looking at her, I love her looking at me, and when our eyes connect its like time stands still and the universe explodes all in the same. I swear when our gazes take hold I can barely even hear the seagulls crying above, or the ocean whispering behind. My mind becomes singularly entwined with motive and thought, and I feel comfortably lost from the world. Our speech is comfortable and loose, without much weight but with great purpose. We stand up and begin walking, and then running, almost chasing each other. Its like being a kid again, with no worries and only love for the world filling your heart. Laughter is the music that the universe produces endlessly and no matter how far you are from your loved one in the chase, their heart is always right next to yours. After the small chase we go into a crowded little bar/restaurant/caf and try to order something to put in our bellies. Unsuccessful, we leave the bar and meander out through the streets. Then comes my favorite, and the most vivid, feeling of the dream, she holds my arm. It may sound silly and clich, but when you have spent the last four years of your life without so much as a single kiss, a woman lovingly holding your arm feels like liquid fire in your heart. And thats what she felt like. The warmth from her body, the feeling of her skin against mine, the very ethereal feeling of her being next to me put a rageless fire into my veins. Passion and love unlocked, unleashed, and fully fed once again.
It is these moments in my dreams that help keep me moving forward, and keep me off pining for a companion. Make no mistake that I desire a good companion, a lover, a woman almost more than anything. But there is a difference between strongly desiring and obsessing. I try to see these dreams as a small sip of water in the desert. It wont ensure youll make it another thousand miles, but it will keep you going another ten feet. Once again, I have no explanation for Gary Busey and the small red headed boy. I will leave that to greater psychological interpretation.
Thank you for reading.
& thank you for your comment on my set !