Dream On

Dream On

The distorted scene behind my eyes shutters in and out of clarity: Something distressing is happening around me, but the sense of what is vague… I’m eating a sandwich… A chicken sandwich (I don’t eat chicken!) wrapped in bacon (I especially don’t eat bacon!!)…

…and the horrid aftertaste that invades my mouth is enough to wake me from slumber.

Stumbling to the bathroom, my willpower is stronger than my gag reflex and I manage to rinse my mouth without vomiting.

The burnt-pork taste on my tongue lingers though and I find myself in a confusing state of nausea combined with intense hunger.

I walk on sleep-heavy legs to the kitchen and butter a piece of bread, noting the time on the clock: 12:17am.

Dream On

Feeling trepidation weighing my limbs as heavily as the sleepiness it accompanies, I drift off to disturbed slumber again…

Blackness. Weightlessness. A pitch-dark outer space void of starlight and empty of sound engulfs me. I feel ethereal, unreal. The un-light is such that I cannot even see my own limbs. But I can sense them… Floating, quiet… And then a sudden alarm in my chest, heart beating rapidly…

I wake with blood roaring in my ears, frozen in place, not breathing.

Once I get my bearings — I am not in outer space, I am in my bedroom — and feel the weight return to my limbs, gravity sinks back into my skin and I close my eyes again.

Dream On

Slowed heartbeat turns to fluttering one, flipping delighted circles between throat and navel… The impression of his body against mine, the sheet-burn rough of bedclothes under my knees with him under me… Wrists in hands, nipples dipped to _just_ where he can’t kiss… My pubic hair tickles the tip of his cock, up-jutted and straining with want…

Dream Until Your Dream Come

I turn, restless, forcing my half-awake self back under into the dark, where…

His cock becomes my focus — the swollen flesh visibly throbbing with want, head purpled from soft strokes coupled with “no” — and when I slide my middle finger against his leaking slit, he gasps.

The dream sound is audible against my don’t-want-to-wake ear, and when I open my eyes to the gray-dawn light, I feel the residual dream-dampness of his precum wetting the pad of my fingertip…

True

…which I apply to my own.

.

I once wrote about the sensory nature of my dreams; I taste/see/feel somatically the imaginary happenings of my dreams. What I have not yet written about is the continually-interrupted sleep that, along with being a menopause symptom, is a side effect of this anomolous dream style. I’ve the borrowed the lyrics of Aerosmith’s Dream On chorus in an attempt to illustrate the concept. I’m curious to know whether any of you (yes, YOU, dear readers) experience anything similar.

I’m also posting this to Life of a Kinky Wife’s meme, Mmm Mondays. Because a portion of this exposition might make you go Mmm… Even if the rest of it has you scratching your head and going “hmmm?” 😉