Robert (Bro. Pepper-spray of Reasoned Discussion) (montecristo) wrote,
Robert (Bro. Pepper-spray of Reasoned Discussion)

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Spring Fever Dreams?

Some of my LJ friends have been going on about Spring Fever lately. I guess, in the abstract, I know what they are talking about. It's not like I haven't felt the stirrings and urges just a little more powerfully in this season. Things are blooming all over the place. I'm sure the air is full of the pheromones of randy animals. Life calls out to life. Women are starting to wear fashions that expose more flesh, and I am certainly noticing, more so lately. I'm reminded of the beautiful lady driving the Cooper Mini. Certainly she posed a nice surprise. It is good to feel your breath catch and the blood sing in your veins. The raw urge to rut is older than civilization and history. But of course, human desire is a lot more than just physical cues.

Certainly these urgings have made my dreams of late quite a bit more interesting. I've had a few doozies which have been about as subtle as bricks upside the head. Generally, I have straightforward sexually themed dreams, which tend to run fairly kinky, and then all of the other types. Sometimes, when I get to start "feeling my oats" the sexual undercurrent starts permeating the "other types," which tends to produce some very unusual scenarios. Just a couple of nights ago, I had a really off the wall one just before I woke up. It is a hot summer day and I am standing in a wide grassy field watching clouds when a woman I knew from high school (and haven't seen or even thought about in years) comes running full-out toward me across the field. She isn't wearing a stitch, which is unusual, because nudity usually does not figure in dreams of mine which had the feel this one did starting out. She is being chased by a man driving a stagecoach. The stagecoach was pulled by two horses which were merely flat pieces of plywood cut into the shape of horses and painted a light blue. The horses don't move, but the coach does, just as if it were being pulled by real horses. The coach is driven by a guy with red hair who looked like a young Ron Howard with a demonic, drooling Jack Nicholson grin on his face and I was somehow able to discern this even though the coach was some distance away. My toothsome friend grabs me around the upper arm and pants at me, "Thank God. Help me. I can't run any further," and as she tries to catch her breath, she turns to look grimly at the rapidly approaching coach and it's mad Mayberry-reject driver. I don't like the looks of the approaching coach, there being entirely too much weirdness about it, so I take her hand and teleport us (it's a lucid dream talent) to a place of which I know. It's some kind of archetypal place because it shows up in my dreams from time to time and I know it and can get there when I want. It's a clearing in a rainforest with a large tree-shaded pool at the base of a cliff into which a waterfall is tumbling. A large flat rock projects out over the pool. It's one of my favorite dream sites.

The lady staggers over to the edge of the pool and begins scooping up and drinking handfuls of water. I sit down on the rock in a patch of sunlight and wait for her to finish drinking. When she finishes, she comes over onto the rock and sits down next to me. Her face and hair are wet from the pool and the rest of her skin is covered in sweat and small bits of grass and grass welts. When her breathing slows, she starts to cool off and then to shiver, so I take off my shirt and give it to her. At this point I can't put off my curiosity any longer, and I ask, "What are you doing here? What was that all about?"

She's still shivering and leans in to wrap her arms around me and get warm. She tells me, "I don't want to say right now. It's...complicated, and you won't believe me or understand." She smells like sweat and grass, and faintly of wildflowers. I sit there trying to figure out why she's in that field being chased, and why she should run into me when I haven't seen her in years. I notice a small black thorny twig in her hair like black locust and I pluck it out and look at it. I start to ponder the mystery. I think to myself that there's no black locust growing in that field and that's when I wake up.

Tags: dreams, love, philosophy, ponderings and curiosity, sex

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