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Secret #36

September 1, 2006 Leave a comment Go to comments

I have a secret. I’ve never told anyone, because I was so frightened and repulsed by it that I buried it deep inside me. A part of me seemed to just sense the wrongness of it, and so I buried it and tried to forget it.

But I never have.

My secret is a dream. I must have been 6, or 7, or 8 years old – I can’t remember, and those years seem all the same to me anyway. I was at the age where playing in mud was not only fun, it was almost…expected. I hated getting dirty or wet as a kid, though. I remember how I used to make mud concoctions for ‘cakes,’ ‘drinks,’ and other similar delights. I never tasted them, but they would go in cups and plates and be served to whomever was the victim at the time. And I was always fastidious about keeping the mud away from any other part of my body besides my hands.

I also used to ‘paint’ the outer walls of my house with mud, adding coat after coat of it until I ran out of mud – or my mother caught me. At least, I think I was sometimes caught and yelled at for it. I don’t really remember.

In any case. This is inexplicably linked to the dream. I don’t know how long afterwards I had it, but they are connected.

It was a dark dream, the kind where objects fade in and out, and shift, and are blurry around the edges. I was naked in the dream, and surrounded by humanoid monsters, made of thick, sludgy mud. I remember the horror and fear I felt then, but I also remember a certain, grotesque fascination. I wanted to run, but was frozen in place, staring as they approached. They weren’t bigger than my 6-7-8-year old self, but it still seemed like they towered over me. I remember mocking, indistinct voices echoing from their gaping, hollow mouths. I remember them reaching and groping for me. They painted me with mud, as I had painted the house. I struggled, but they only laughed and kept grabbing at me, leaving streaks of mud wherever they touched.

And, throughout it all, I remember how incredibly, unmistakeably aroused I was, in my 6-7-8 year old state. Whenever I recalled the dream later, when awake, my tiny body would shiver violently, and I would find myself hoping I would have that dream again. I was disgusted and fascinated at the same time.

I’m still a bit obsessive when it comes to keeping my skin clean.

Categories: dream
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