There’s really no way to beat around this (heh) bush, so here goes: I had incredible sex with one of my colleagues last night.
I don’t remember much about it (which means it probably wasn’t great) except that I was on top (which is *so* not my thing) and that he’d shaved his beard. And before you start judging me, I’d like to state for the record that our libidinous activities were the direct result of the heinous actions of a rogue hog. There was also a white shirt (very strange, indeed; I’ve never seen him in anything but black) and a ferris wheel and a funky heated vibrating chair adorned with flashing lights.
I was concerned for a moment about how his wife (also a colleague) would handle the news of our copulation, but she was equal parts encouraging and oblivious. Probably because all of her attention was focused on adjusting her head gear so she could get on about the business of boosting a helicopter.
A helicopter!
Which is just as well. Because the swooshing of the chopper’s blades reminded me of the thundering of water rapids, which reminded me I had to pee, which promptly caused me to wake up.
And wake up, I did. Disturbed.
*
It is incredibly rare for me to remember my dreams (which can sometimes be frustrating, considering that more often than not, I wake up aroused), but I think ~ in the best interest of the participants ~ this is one dream I’d prefer to forget.
I mean, seriously. Would YOU want to remember a sex dream that included a hog?
I think not.
*
Interpretation, anyone?
You want to get it on with the guy at work.
I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain what I do for a living, but suffice it to say ‘the guy’ is not ‘at work’. We work in the same field, but since we’re both independent contractors, it’s rare for our paths to cross. In fact, I’ve not seen him in several months, which makes his appearance in my dream all the stranger.
We definitely share an attraction (primarily because of our mutual association with the fraternity Phi Q), so the sex part of the dream doesn’t puzzle me at all. In fact, I think my dream was fairly accurate in that sex with him would not be memorable. I’d also say it was spot on in that his wife wouldn’t particularly care.
I’m much more concerned about the hog and the ferris wheel and the helicopter, because they took up 99% of my dreamscape. ‘The guy’ ~ more specifically, sex with ‘the guy’ ~ was only about one percent. There was also a woman in my dream I didn’t recognize from real life and a weird sort of test and popsicle sticks.
Gah!
I often remember my dreams. When I’ve had a unusually peculiar dream, I try not to go right back to sleep. I have had dreams start where they left off. And for me, I prefer not to have sex dreams. At least I prefer not to have sex dreams of the type I tend to have. Invariably I end up having sex with someone I don’t like. It’s not always intercourse. The last dream of that type I had, I was on foot running from a tornado. As I passed a building, she reached out and pulled me into the entryway. The tornado would be on top of us in seconds, In the dream, I would be dead in less than 10 seconds. So I lip-locked with her in order to die during a kiss. This was a woman I did not like in any way. I definitely didn’t want to kiss her. If I had to pick a reason for the dream, it was probably my subconscious telling me not to be judgemental. Tornadoes do recur often in my dreams.
Don’t sweat it, Wild. As anyone who’s watched the movie Twister knows, storms have a way of bringing out the weird in people. Tornadoes, especially.
I used to have a recurring dream of trying to outrun a pink tornado. I’m not sure exactly what *that* was all about, but I’m fairly certain the dream contributed to my lifelong aversion to cotton candy.