Home > dream, humor, writing > all i have

all i have

September 30, 2006 Leave a comment Go to comments

The aftermath of rain in a developed world has always held an intriguing atmosphere for me. I say that because of the beguiling properties of rain-drenched cement and asphalt, a quality so much harder to find in the natural places of the world. Walking throught campus, eyes down and umbrella up, I watched a paled, reflected sky pass under my feet. It is an almost disconcerting vertigo, but even more so, it fills me with a powerful sensation I can’t quite place. There is the nostalgia that seems to come with this season; a quiet sadness at the grey world reflected; but also a serenity, a stillness of water at its place of least resistance.

I dreamt last night that we were in bed, with him on top of me. There were few visuals besides the tilting changes in perspective from time to time. My eyes were closed, our bodies were pressed close, grinding, groping, rubbing. I could not stand it any longer and reached down, seeing/feeling his coarse jeans, his Carhartts, sliding my fingers towards his belt, his zipper. I felt the bulge, the heat, groaned into his hair, or his lips, I don’t remember. I only recall the frantic fumbling, the sigh of satisfaction and lust at freeing his cock, of caressing it with my palm as I guided it between my legs.

And there, he whispered throatily in my ear: “Perhaps it’s time we go to dinner.

My dream-self groaned, a monumental rumbling of disappointment as I vainly tried to rub against him, incite him more. It was no use. He lifted himself off of me, stood up.

And then I saw him cupping his hand between my legs, and saw his embarassed grin, and realized I was bleeding. Oh lord. Even my dream-self could see the humor here, as well as realize the connection to reality. The scenario was made more hilarious as he dashed out and back in with sopping wet paper towels, dripping both water and blood.

Ok, in hindsight, dripping blood is never funny. But luckily the copious amounts of flowing blood were dream fodder only, and not representative in any way of my actual period.

In any case, that was only one segment, as always, of my whole dream state (I seem to be in a dream-writing stage, or rather on a particular dreamscape fiasco), which involved taking freshmen on a hiking trip to a wilderness broken by cement staircases, and seminar rooms among the canopy, and a train station-like terrace. The odd thing is, I feel as if I’ve had a similar dream in the same landscape before.

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Categories: dream, humor, writing
  1. His fucktoy
    October 3, 2006 at 12:39 am

    “…My dream-self groaned, a monumental rumbling of disappointment as I vainly tried to rub against him, incite him more…”

    What lovely turns of phrases you have!

    odd that i, too, seem to be in reality-dream-reality and disorientated and more odd that i know exactly what you mean.

  2. J
    October 3, 2006 at 4:24 pm

    The ‘paled, reflected sky…’

    What you are beginning to realize, I think, is that reflection below is as real as the sky above.

    As real as your dreams are.

    Moving between dream and waking, the two become indistinguishable…two realities wrapped in silk and leather.

  3. J
    October 3, 2006 at 10:32 pm

    by the way.

    congratulations on being featured at fleshbot…

  4. nell
    October 5, 2006 at 12:32 am

    toy – It seems like these feelings are part of this transitional season … at least to me. :)J -I am still amazed that I got fleshbotted … It’s hard to believe my little cybernook should ever garner such attention.Mmm…silk and leather…

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