Dreamy

I cycle though life. Maybe we all do, but I have such definite reoccurring phases, I think I should volunteer to be part of a study. My current phase is sexually frustrated. This phase is more often prominent in dreams, but if you can’t get a good lay in a dream, where can you?

For several weeks I’ve been enjoying exceptionally vivid dreams. About a month ago the dreams were adventurous. I had one that I still remember well. There was a serial killer in the area. I knew who it was. Rather than involve the appropriate authorities, I took it upon myself to follow him and catch him myself. I was Nancy Drew-like. I would participate in stake-outs. I would hide behind buildings. I would walk right past him nonchalantly. I didn’t seem to connect the dots on this one. After all, he was a serial killer, targeting women, having recently abducted and killed no less than 10 victims, and there I was, putting myself- alone- within 50 feet of him at all times, with no training or experience in self-defense. Hell, I don’t even run fast. The dream was so vivid I remember that he had man-breasts.

About 2 weeks ago, the dreams shifted to be sex dreams. All right! The blog just got spicy, right? Nah.... I’ll use last night’s dream as the example.

There was a group of 3 guys (don’t predict, it’s not going to end that way), none of which I actually know. I found myself attracted to one of the guys and, apparently, he felt the same. The stage is set for this be a raunchy, sheet tossing, sweaty dream that ends with me waking up with a smile on my face and a mission to find this man in reality. But will my subconscious allow such debauchery? Hell no.

I was in college without a place of my own, so, apparently I was living with a variety of people including my PARENTS. This will totally cramp your style. The first half of the dream was littered with attempts to find a place to be alone with this handsome, charming, undeniable man. The middle of the dream was cluttered with awkward attempts to enjoy the moments we were alone. The end of the dream was dominated by me asking, several times, “When are you going to....?” and saying “Oh. I must have missed it.” Progressively he became less and less handsome, he lost his interesting edge, he was no longer articulate but rather a pimple-faced redneck who I think had an extra chromosome encoded in his DNA. So, instead of having a fulfilling sexually charged and satisfying dream, I woke up in the same state as my dream- pissed off and bored.

The good news is that I go through phases and my cycle of attractiveness, which is on a 7-year rotation, is only 4 more years from re-surging. I’m really looking forward to those 3 months… I need ‘em. BADLY. 

•   Comments(8)    Posted by liz on 08/20 at 04:45 PM
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