Be advised ... this is somewhat risque’ in its telling,

but the dream felt real to me. And I do not know why I had such a dream.

************

The girl stands nude under the evergreen tree. She is very petite, with small, pert breasts. She stands with her arms raised above her head in seeming invitation for something to come from the sky. I notice that except for her long black hair and the small matching triangle below, she is very pale; her skin is almost milk white. The evergreen is a tall one, and although it is a warm day, its boughs are heavily laden with snow.

The wind picks up a little, causing the girl’s hair to blow about her shoulders and her skin tingles. I have no idea who she is; if I saw her walking down the street fully clothed, I would never look twice in her direction. But now, right now under that tree, I know she is magic. She is ageless.

The wind causes snow to drift down from the tree, sending it fluttering silently around the girl.

Immaculately formed flakes land in her now disheveled hair and stick there. She lowers her arms and the wind settles, but the snow keeps falling from the tree.

She seems to notice me then, even though I know she has been aware of my presence since the beginning. She smiles and I take that as an invitation to come closer. However, I stop in my tracks and watch silently again as she curls her hands around her waist. She is moaning, but I cannot hear her, and I slowly realize that I haven’t heard anything at all in this surreal landscape.

I have so many questions to ask her and begin to walk over to her once again. And again, before I have taken more than a step, she disappears, and the entire world begins to blur.

************

The room is shadowed in soft light and classical yet dissonant music plays on the Wurlitzer in the corner in true film noir fashion. I sit in a wicker chair facing him. I can’t see him in the dim light; I can just make out his shadow. Looking to where I think his eyes might be, I give him a small, secretive smile. I raise my hand to my blouse and slip it down one side, exposing my left shoulder. I sense him leaning forward in anticipation. Instead of bearing the skin of my right shoulder to him as well, I slowly unbutton the blouse and slip it off completely.

There is no bra to follow it. I sit upright in the chair, displaying myself to him for his attention, his enjoyment, his approval. His hand comes forward out of the gloom and rests gently on my right shoulder, gently massaging. His touch is so light, but I still groan in a strange mixture of agony and bliss. It is not just my shoulder he has touched. It is my entire body and soul. His mind reaches out and touches mine, our connection is so deep there is no need for words. There is no permission to seek. He knew long ago that with me there would never be a need to ask.

His hand still resides on my shoulder as I slide off the chair and onto the floor. The Wurlitzer skips almost imperceptibly as it switches to a new groove in the record. I don’t recognize the new song, and yet in some fundamental way I do. Still film noir, it is the type of song played during love scenes in old movies.

Indeed, the world becomes black and white there on the floor, the only color is the red lipstick I do not remember applying. It transfers to his neck as he takes me on the floor. Engulfs, consumes, and leaves nothing but black, white, red, and pleasure.

The young girl, no more than twenty, lays flat on her back and smiles beguilingly at the man who looks down at her prone figure. His age and her similarity to him in appearance would suggest that he’s someone she should know. She is naked except for a pair of light purple panties, which apparently he finds very appealing because his hand moves down her stomach and rests at the border. He makes to slide under the elastic, but she stops him by grabbing his hand in both of hers.

Slowly, slowly she brings his hand to her lips and kisses his palm. Then, quite deliberately, she puts his finger in her mouth and sucks it gently. The man’s eyes flutter shut as her tongue slowly massages the underside of his finger. He groans in frustration, and mutters something about not being able to take it anymore. She ignores him and he tells her to stop again, this time louder and more ominous.

As if in acquiescence to his request, she slides his finger from her mouth. He makes to reclaim his hand, but she tightens her own and brings his wet finger between her breasts. She starts rubbing his hand in circles, and it takes him a long time to realize that she has let go of him and he is now performing for her on his own. He stops.

“Turn over.”

The words are spoken more in a command than a request, but she seems happy enough to oblige. Her creamy back, with its light smattering of speckles between the shoulder blades, is a visual treat. However, it takes second place to the slight swell of her panty clad bottom. Much as before, his hand flows down her form to rest on that fabric barrier, and suddenly he pats her there so hard it could be considered a light spank.

An almost silent “oh” of surprise escapes her lips, and she wiggles her bottom almost invitingly. He is not discouraged. Again he spanks her, much harder this time. She gasps and almost whimpers but that doesn’t deter him from his task. Again the hand comes down, and again, and again. He gets a steady rhythm going and she buries her face in the pillow as little “ah’s” escape her lips, one for each smack delivered.

Eventually, this dark unknown stranger becomes dissatisfied with her current predicament and forcefully slides her panties down amidst cries of, “No, don’t do that!” Apparently though he can do that, and with a small flourish he discards the panties over his shoulder. Exposed to the room now is her heart shaped bottom, shaded a bright red from the man’s ministrations.

She knows instinctively to stay on her stomach for a minute to let this stranger admire his work, but soon enough, she again turns onto her back.

The view is improved one hundred percent by her lithe and supple frame. So flushed is she all over that had there been any doubt of her arousal, it is swiftly discarded. She gives the unknown stranger a “come hither” smile and before she could stop him, he was on her in a flash, surrounding her body with his maleness.

I want to ask him how he got here, but the idea is discarded as he kisses me. He knows that all I’ve ever really desired was this. To lie in bed with him and feel wanted. I nip his lip with a daring I don’t usually show. and he laughs softly.

Instinctively his hands cup my breasts, and I put my hand over his, never intending to let him go.

I do let him go though and his hand explores under the covers and I whimper softly and bury my face against his chest. My legs spread in invitation.

This is the single moment I have waited for all my life and the moment has arrived. I feel so sexy and alive. This man, a man I do not know, wants me for me.

The evidence of his arousal puts me over the edge; and I tremble so hard I figure I must surely break. His finger still plays upon my flesh, but I can’t stand for him to continue, so grabbing his arm I put his hand back between my breasts. I lie there next to him, shivering in this single moment in time. A moment that seems to be never-ending.

Eventually, the tremors pass and somewhat nervously I reach over and pull him against me. I gain the courage to tell him what I want. Finally the words come out, much quieter than I intend but still, they are there.

I stop and blush for a minute, feeling ridiculous. He does not prod me to continue and I feel tears come to my eyes for the love I feel for this man I cannot see. It gives me the courage to go on.

“I want to have your baby.” There, I said it. It was corny, but maybe sometimes corny is underrated. If he thinks my plebeian dialogue is ridiculous he doesn’t say so. Gently removing my hand, he turns and positions himself atop me. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I exhale it upon him joining me.

The world narrows to the feel of him, to our heavy breathing and the whimpers I can’t seem to stop making. He stiffens slightly and as his gift hits my walls, I pray that it will go where it needs to be.

He leans down and gives me another kiss. I feel sophisticated and mature with him... and I feel like all of my dreams are at last realized.

************

I jerk awake in my bedroom, and in the delirious aftermath of my dreams I turn to him, only to find that he is not there.

Reality comes crashing back as I realize he is still thousands of miles away, somewhere in a place he doesn’t know I exist; this stranger that I have fallen in love with, probably sleeping by now in his own bed, having his own dreams. Tears threaten but I blink them back furiously.

I settle back on my pillow and without realizing it, my hand rests on my stomach and starts to rub the emptiness there. I drift off to sleep and if another eight dreams are conjured up; I won’t remember them upon waking.

There is no point in believing in dreams.

About a month ago, I started having really odd dreams. I generally have always been alone in my dreams (except for the occasional vampire and once I had an animated dream starring the Flintstones…okay, that was odd, but really funny). Anyway, about a month ago, I started having dreams that were full of people that talked to me, whose hands I could touch and feel, who had faces that I could draw, well, if I could draw. They lived in houses and apartments that I could remember when I woke up – the furniture, the smell, the landscape from a window. They had babies whose clothes I could describe, with chubby cheeks I kissed, and small warm bodies I held. Suddenly, my dreams had animals, dogs, cats, whose fur was soft (and didn’t make me sneeze) and who came so close to my face I could feel their warm breath on my lips.

After a couple of weeks, I didn’t have any particularly weird dreams for a while, at least, none that I remember, but everyday life seemed to become a bit less ordinary and a lot more should I get some professional help? A couple of times I was driving and suddenly the asphalt seemed to be buckling and sending up ribbons of road. I panicked and blinked and all was normal. Must have been the wind blowing up debris, I said to myself. Sun glare must have made it look weird…

Little stupid things I chalked up to mid-life hormones addling my brain started happening. I’d wash my hands, turn to dry them on the towel and then hear water, turn around and the faucet was still running. Duh, I’d think, turning off the water. I’d go to my room and after dressing, hear something in the bathroom, go back…and the water was still running. I thought I turned it off, I’d think…turning it off again. Similarly, I’d find the refrigerator door open, a flame blazing on the stove, the front door wide open and unlocked, the car running in the garage. The joys of aging, I’d say to myself, shaking my head as I turned off the flame, shut and locked the door, turned off the ignition…again and again.

The turning point appears to have been yesterday (or was it last week?) when I really could not explain away the moment when I was walking in the supermarket and fell forward into my wagon because someone bumped into my back but when I turned around to accept an apology, I was the only one in the aisle. Clumsy me I said out loud …although there was nothing on the floor and I had not tripped over my own feet.

When I turned back to my cart, I was no longer in the supermarket, but rather walking on the sand towards what appeared to be a hotel, watching sun bathers shift shape so quickly I nearly screamed. I will not scream, I told myself. I will not draw attention to the fissure in my psyche. I am obviously losing my mind. I will figure this out. When I opened the door to the building, I entered my home. I looked behind me, and saw my street.

“Hey, sweetheart,” my husband said, coming to hug me at the door. He stopped at the entrance to the foyer. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?” he said, walking towards me menacingly.

“What?” I asked…confused until I heard my deep, masculine voice. I turned and ran.

I have been on the street since then. I think. I haven’t slept, or perhaps I have not awakened. I often wonder if I died in my sleep and this is my afterlife. If it is, I’m certain heaven was not my destination. But if it’s hell, it seems almost worse than the fire and brimstone of the stories of my youth. Eternal…what? As the world beneath my feet shifts place – or is it time? – so too everything and everyone around me. I am surrounded by people who have become a multiplicity of beings, their faces ceasing to be recognizable as features are barely visible before they begin to melt into the features of another. It’s the stuff of horror movies or nightmares from which you awaken in a cold sweat, but try as I might, I can’t leave the theatre or pinch myself awake. I asked someone to pinch me not long ago, thinking I had to be dreaming. He did. It hurt.

the light had broken

the very same person it fixed

i knew i wasn’t supposed to be here

but i didn’t belong anywhere else

a deserted rooftop

the world falling asleep

loneliness: the thought of you next to me

cold wind torn out pieces of a heart

and i thought i could catch a wisp

the scent of your perfume

that i get drunk on every time

as the evanescent city lights

turned off one after another

my existence like a polaroid in reverse

saturated colors turned into blanks

every moment was closer to vanishing

leaving with nowhere to go to

and no one to become

all i could hear was silence within me

perhaps i had scattered myself

in hopes of someday

having a body you never touched

but deep down i knew of a confession:

even if i had a thousand lifetimes

meeting you made this one

the one i had been waiting for

a part of me desperately wanted someone

to notice i had been gone for a long time

nothing more than for someone to ask:

where are you? tonight

seeking that answer relentlessly

i wish i knew but lost it when i met you

as my body became a glass casket

and a darkness too familiar

the whole of me selfishly wanted you

and only you to be here

the last and only wish: loving you until the end

two people one faultless and the other broken

under the same faded sky i was lost

in a world you could’ve entered but it’s over

so before i leave and the story ends

one last question that begs for an answer

who are you? you’re all i care about

i let go and an empty casket

fell to the cold concrete ground

crushed into a million pieces

but even then it didn’t belong anywhere

or to anyone for darkness was a burden

my hand scraped from picking up fragments

of a heart that tried not to love so deeply

but simply couldn’t do it

was this the ending you hoped for?

then a while later i had lost count

of how long has passed

for time had ceased to exist

in the world you had the chance to save

but shattered it without knowing

you were the light

in the eternal abyss of darkness

a while later i thought i heard

cutting through the night-

sirens

i woke up

and i didn’t remember anything

but that i was falling

like the dream everyone has

like the feeling everyone knows

i fell too fast and crashed too hard

but it wasn’t from somewhere high

i’m looking at you as i write this

if only you knew i was falling for you

- deathetix

Then,

Emitted a light that bubbled in.

The animal yowled.

Disgruntled, it lowered itself to the floor.

The machine shot globs of light at the beast.

It sprang upright.

But

It was too slow.

Now, trapped in the air, it resigned itself to its fate.

June 4th, 2016

I was falling through a void, alone, in silence, but a good sort of silence. I wasn’t afraid, and was wrapped in a blissfully peaceful feeling. The next moment, I was sitting, fully clothed, in the upstairs bathtub, in jeans and a t-shirt. I wasn’t alone. A well-built black woman, arms crossed in a distinctly sassy way, pointed down at me, and, in a commanding voice, said “You need to shave ’yo legs!”

January 5th, 2019

A roughly three-part dream, which was incredibly disjointed, and that I only really remember in bullet-point form, which included:

Trying to save two cedar trees from being taken down to make a chicken barn on a property that was very similar to the property of some old friends.

An abrupt shift of perspective/dream/topic

Climbing a mountain on horseback (the horses looked like fjord horses) to go to another place for some sort of gathering. The place was a village built on stilts on the edge of a permanently frozen ice lake. We looked like vikings. I remember thinking the saddles were super cool.

Betraying that place, sending in two giant elephants (think lord of the rings style Oliphants) while watching from above on a nearby cliff where our camp was

Being horrified about that as the elephants demolished the badly built town.

Apathetic comrades

Chaos. Fire, for some reason, burning the buildings.

The sudden appearance of zombie ghosts. Two took possession of the elephants.

?????

Zombie ghost king appearing, along with its ‘pet’, a Lich dragon that was huge, that it had possessed. The dragon was made out of bones, and lit on fire. The fire was green.

More chaos.

Another abrupt perspective shift

Watching all this from above on the back of a small dragon with triceratops-style horns. On this dragon was me, apparently now a dragon rider, as well as a very pretty princess, and my solider buddy from when we were climbing mountains on horses. We were scared.

Forgetting the zombie dragon king, flying super high, diving super fast.

Fourth random perspective shift

I was a small blue dragon, inside some tunnels leading up to the ice lake town, hiding. I was scared and hiding as I watched a huge zombie dragon clawing its way to the surface through the tunnels.

Then I woke up.

March ? 2020

I dreamed I was wandering around a strange place. It was roughly square shaped, and looked like an outdoor night market straight out of a story book, arranged around the empty square space, that I instinctively knew was a void. Around this square and pointing inwards towards it were all kinds of openings. I remember some - a tunnel of fabrics, a huge oak door that was stories tall, as well as a square that led to only a different kind of black void. We (A group of around 5, made up of people I don’t recall) were looking for something. We searched through the marketplace, looking into the openings, but not finding anything really. All the doors opened into different spaces, mostly small rooms - A ship’s cabin, a forest, a whimsical room from a Bed and Bath I’d stayed at in the past, and a storage closet. There were hundreds. We eventually saw other people, from every imaginable setting, also looking for something, not pausing. The only one who did was a kind faced man who was wearing an antique diver’s suit, who simply nodded at us. Eventually, we came to a opening that lead into a fortune teller’s tent, dark and covered in fabrics. The fortune teller convinced us to look into her crystal ball. I looked, and saw something....

I can’t remember what I saw.

It is a recurring dream. I am always back to the place I grew up at, Ethiopia, African.

Makida holds my hands. She is the same girl I loved when I was a teenager. She is the only woman who casually dazzles into my dreams and crushes everything. Even after more than 25 years later, she’s still lingering in the depth of my consciousness.

Every time I see that same dream, nothing changes. It starts at the same exact time and location. 

It’s early morning. Seven of my friends and I are walking to high school, which resides outside the city limit, about 10 miles (ca. 16 km) away from our neighborhood.

We’re ninth-graders. We’re very close friends. Best friends. We wake up early and meet at the closed railroad station. Once we cross the rusty metal factory that appears to crumble, the school sits on a 100 acres green pasture field.

Until we get inside, all you see is an open field full of green plants for many miles far ahead.

Students come from all over. There’s a road where we all converge a few yards from the main gate. As soon as we all rush inside, my heart stops. Makida, the  beautiful goddess with the sparkling smile and long curly hair emerges from the crowd. When we stand in line for The Pledge  of Allegiance, nobody seems to care about singing. All eyes are on her. But in my lucid dream, she’s not interested in anybody other than me. 

She and I have a Biology class together, and she sits behind me, always giggling as if she’s talking about me to her friends behind my back.

Sometimes, she taps on my shoulders and passes me a note about what we’re going to do or where we’ll be meeting after school is over.

When the bell rings, and we head to the next classroom, we hold hands, and walk side by side, smiling like lovebirds. But before we get into room 7, which is Chemistry class, she snatches her hands away from me and stops at the door. She acts like she doesn’t know or never even met me.

I panic and let go of her hands. Then, she looks away as if she sees a ghost, and disappears into the morning fog.

As I start to unravel what just happened between us, I don’t see anybody around. Yet, I’m standing alone by room 7, confused about Makida’s madness.

The bell rings again, and then I’m back to the future, 25 years later.

I yawn and try gasping for air at 3 a.m. in the morning. I rub my eyes, making sure that I was just dreaming the same old dream again. Insane. So, I look, and then find myself sleeping on my big, king bed, comfortably here in North America, in the summer of year 2020.

Thanks to Makida, now I have to deal with insomnia.

I still wonder why I see this dream all the time.

Maybe it’s not healthy, dreaming about the same girl I met 30 years ago. Makida, the girl that slipped away between my fingers, she keeps chopping off my quiet sleeping time shorter, a few minutes and hours at a time.

Perhaps, I should finally have the courage of admitting to seeing a therapist.

Midnightink 6-13-2020

He visited me in my dream last night. I’ll admit I was missing him, went to bed thinking about him.

We had a time portal in our kitchen. It was hidden behind a tile in the drop ceiling. We don’t even have a drop ceiling.

I had the brilliant idea that if we sent him to the future, there might be a cure for what ailed him. I tried to explain it to him.

I said, “Charlie, I’m not sure exactly how this time portal works, whether it goes back in time or into the future...but I was thinking. Maybe we could send you into the future, where they can heal you...and then you can come back to us.”

He liked the idea but he wanted to take a closer look. I showed him where to jump onto the counter and he jumped up, all 90 pounds of him, like a pup. He wanted to know exactly where the portal was, so I pushed the tile out fo the way so he could take a peak.

He stuck his head into the portal and before I could stop him, he’d climbed up inside.

“Wait,” I cried, trying to call him back. I looked inside and he was gone.

I was overcome by panic. We hadn’t figured out a plan. I hadn’t even told my family what I was thinking.

Now, he was gone and they’d never forgive me. We hadn’t even said “good-bye.” Or “good luck.”

I stood there trying to figure out what to do, but nothing came to mind. I wanted to cry.

Then I remembered, Charlie knew the plan.

Surely, he would find the necessary help and the cancer would be removed, once and for all. He would live a long and happy life. I just hoped he would be able to find the portal to return to us.

_________________________

My sweet Charlie died 4 months ago and I still have dreams of him. This one gave me a small measure of solace that maybe he is in a better place. And maybe he’s trying to get back to us.

I peek nervously through the narrow slits in the cinder block walls. The sun casts awkward shadows on the dank, dark walls as I watch the souls of the passerbys's shoes as they pass unaware of my existence.

The room seems to extend infinitely. I must find the perfect toilet. Down the center of the room are squat, cinder block rows. Cold, damp, molded. It is a long row of communal toilets. This will never do.

I continue my journey. How has this become my life? I finally make a right as I descend further into the basement. There are now pools of water collecting and dripping from the ceiling. Condensation collects on the cinder blocks. How am I ever going to find the right bathroom?

Down this hall are rooms, each with a shower curtain. It seems as though each shower curtain is just an inch too small on each side to cover the doorway.

Finally, one with a complete covering. I open it to be faced with a wall. I continue.

There are showers. Women are showering. I can't figure out why I'm so ashamed of my body.

I continue. I find a real stall. The stall is filled with a standing pool of water but it's my only option. I finally settle. Someone is pulling and banging on the door. As I stand in the stagnant water my hand on the wet cinder block to steady myself.

And then suddenly, I awake. Did I just spend my night trying to find the perfect toilet? The absurdity of my subconscious sometimes even astounds me.

*******************************************

I have another dream, where I'm in my car driving. It's always by a frozen lake. I love to drive and to drive fast. It gets me in trouble. I am driving and enjoying it. Speeding down the highway. Then I hit ice. My car spins out of control. I start to slide backwards towards the frozen lake. I know my car is going to slide into the lake. I slam on the brakes. They hit the floor. I speed up. I fly in reverse towards the frozen lake. I awake just as I'm about to slide into the frozen lake.

*******************************************

Finally, I'm at the beach. I'm staying at this gorgeous seaside hotel. We have a penthouse sweet. The balcony is enclosed in glass. I can see the wave forming on the horizon.

I try to warn others. They tell me I'm crazy. I know I'll be safe. I gather my friends and family. We stand on the balcony. The wave crests just under our window at the 12th floor. From my view I can watch all the destruction and death untouched.

I'm upset that no one would listen to me, yet relieved that my family and friends are safe. We watch the water and see the destruction float past us.

I wake up crying and sad for the world.

When i was about five, I had a nightmair witch at the time was not so funny.

So ten years ago, my dad herd me bawling in my room and he came in to comfert me. So five year old me is just sitting their on dads lap, crying my eyes out, untll i calm down and tell him the dream i had. Remember that i was five.

In the dream, I was in the play room runing from a giant basket ball. after a bit I tryed to hit it with my light saber, wich turned into a crayon.

Yeup.

Abruptly awake,

soaring from darkness,

as quickly, falling

back into someone --

but who am I now?

She is so little,

I didn’t see her,

I hope she’s not hurt.

I forget to look.

Everyone is short!

Abruptly awake,s

Abruptly awake,soaring from darkness,ness,

as quickly, falling

back into someone --

but who am I now?

I have to walk here,

where I can see them

or I’ll be trampled.

Everyone is so

focused on themselves.

Abruptly awake,soaring from darkness,

as quickly, falling

back into someone --

but who am I now?

What is wrong with you?

Crashing into mom,

she’s eighty-four, you’re

six foot, four inches.

I’m going to kill you!

Abruptly awake,

soaring from darkness,

my body trembles,

sitting up in bed,

taking slow, deep breaths...