Dream: Cowboys' Personal Appearance LUCID ND *sexual*

NOTE: This dream report contains some fairly blunt descriptions of gay sex. If this would disturb or upset you, don’t read it.

Subj: Dream 20020922, 7:15 AM:

I’m in the hallway of the Sammons Center, and there are a bunch of people here for a meeting. It’s some sort of thing for another group; I think it’s like the 500 or one of the other arts organizations. They are asking me questions, and I have to figure out where they’re supposed to be and what they’re doing. They are scheduled to be in Kurth Hall, I think. I am talking to a couple of different people from their group, and I see Sandra Greenway at the back of the crowd. She sees me and comes up. She is here to get some stuff from her office.

Sandra and I get into the elevator; I’m not sure if one or two of the other people do as well. We start going up, and the red elevator lights flash – without much difficulty, I realize that they are really the Nova Dreamer’s lights, and I realize that I’m dreaming. Rather than spin or something else to change the scene, I decide to just take the elevator up through the roof, like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I feel it crashing through the ceiling, and then the scene changes.

I’m driving a big red pickup truck through downtown streets. It’s not a place that I recognize. I’m driving very fast, and I realize that since I’m dreaming, I don’t have to worry about hitting something, I know I’ll be fine. The driving has a funky feel to it, like I’m rocking my body, dancing, as I drive. I go past a garage sale that is out on the sidewalk, and think briefly about stopping, but decide that I really shouldn’t go garage-sale shopping in dreams because I won’t be able to keep anything I buy.

I really don’t have any particular plan in mind. There are lots of people wandering around the streets; it seems like something must be going on. I’m driving around looking for something fun to do. I see a black and white large van or small bus; it looks like it has police lights on the top, but I see the word “Cowboys” in black lettering on the white part, and I realize it’s a Dallas Cowboys’ bus. I think to myself that they’re doing some sort of a personal appearance, and they could be fun to watch or play with.

Since I don’t know where they’re going to be, I look it up on my computer. There just happens to be a lap top convenient in the truck. I don’t remember stopping to look it up, but I don’t remember driving while doing so either – it’s like either the truck was on auto-pilot, or I just shifted scene a little to check out the computer, then shifted back. I looked it up with a Google-like search engine, and it came up with a bunch of irrelevant gibberish the first time, hits that had the right words but weren’t what I wanted. I re-entered more specifically, and got what I was looking for – they were doing a performance somewhere near here.

I don’t remember going into the building, but find myself inside a place that seems like a cross between a school gym and a bar. The Cowboys are doing a dance number, like a line dance. I make myself invisible, and go into their locker room. They are changing, and different guys are doing each number. I look around at them, seeing if there are any that I’d like to play with. Most of the guys don’t look all that appealing. None of them really look much like football players – they are mostly too thin, and not very muscular. I see one that has a mutton-chop mustache, dark hair; I feel like I ought to recognize him from somewhere, but don’t. The group is changing; a new group is going out to dance, and more guys are coming in to change. I see a guy who seems fairly hot: a young, very blond guy with a nice body and a kind of sweet goofy face. I decide that he’d be fun. He gets dressed and goes back out into the hall to dance.

I follow the group back out. I know that they can’t see me, but I have to avoid bumping directly into anyone. I have fun nudging and slapping people’s butts, though, because I know they will blame one another for it. The group dancing now is doing some kind of country line dance. The cute blond guy that I was watching doesn’t seem to know the dance well, and so I stand right behind him like a shadow, and hold him by the upper arms and sort of push him through the dance. It’s kind of fun. At the end of the dance, as I’m walking in with them to the locker room, he says thanks to the other guys for helping him through the dance; they of course don’t know what he’s talking about. He tells them he could feel them helping him out, and they laugh. After a little more joking, I pull him aside, and capture him into the invisibility with me. I kiss him on the mouth to keep him from making a noise. He seems like he’s totally fine with it – he looks me in the eye and says, “I have a place.” He is naked now, although I don’t remember seeing him change out of his clothes. Previously, he had been wearing, I think, faded jeans and a reddish plaid shirt.

I laugh, and take his arm and start to walk him to another room. There are rows of benches here, and there is a guy lying naked face-down on one of them. I am telling the blond guy that nobody can see us; to demonstrate, I walk over to the lying-down guy and slap his ass. He looks up, but of course can’t see anything. He shakes his head, and lies back down as if he had been napping. Maybe he thinks it’s just something from a dream. I take the blond boy’s hand and make him slap the guy again, and he turns, still looking for something, but seeing nothing.

I take the blond boy over to another of the benches. The room is empty except for the two of us now. I sit him down on the bench, and unzip my pants. I put my dick in his mouth, and he starts to suck on it. It feels really good, although a little “distant,” as if I’m not really feeling in my body. The lights flash again, and I think to myself, “Oh, good, that means I’ve maintained the dream state for at least four minutes.” I can sense my sleeping body in the bed for a little bit, but it doesn’t intrude on my awareness of the dream scene enough to wake me. It seems like the sensation of being body-aware started when I began to get aroused sexually. I am enjoying the humpy blond boy giving me head, watching his face and putting my hand on his cheek and guiding his head back and forth.

A couple of guys walk into the room where we are. One of them resembles a guy that I’ve seen out in Cedar Springs – I think he waits tables at the Pea, or something like that. A familiar face, but no-one I know. His friend is nobody I recognize. He obviously sees us, but he doesn’t see us in our natural state – he says something to his friend about “Look at that mouse over there on that hay bale.” He walks over to where we are, and touches me, and then he can see us like we really are. He starts telling me that I shouldn’t do that, there’s like a whole bale tied together. He’s making a gesture with his hands like baling a bundle of hay, and it seems like he’s trying to tell me that I shouldn’t be messing around with the blond guy because of some other factor that is tied to it. I don’t understand what he’s saying. *end*