Note: This dream contains some fairly blunt descriptions of gay sex. If that would disturb you, is not legal in your community, or you are not old enough to read it, please don’t scroll down or click on the LJ cut.
Dream 20030325, 7:00 AM:
Note: I find that in a lot of low-level lucid dreams, I have the mental acuity and patience of a young child, and the sexual intensity of a horny teenager. In more high-level lucid dreams, I practice things like transformation and transportation, delving into my mind’s inner workings and flying off on adventures… but in the lower-level ones, all I want to do is stick my dick into people. This dream starts out as if it was going to be a high-level one, but goes downhill. Interestingly, high-level lucid dreams for me rarely include other characters; it seems that when I have more of my faculties integrated into my dream persona, they’re not split into different characters.
This dream started out lucid; I don’t remember any dream material before this. I was walking along a hallway, knowing full well that I am dreaming. There are no other people here. I am in a big, roomy building – it could be a house that has been divided up into connecting apartments, or it could have been built this way. It seems to me like the various rooms belong to different people, although they are currently empty.
I catch sight of myself in a mirror. I look closely, remembering to see what I look like. I look pretty much like my regular waking self, except that my hair is balding on top; I examine this in the mirror and remark to myself on it. Then, I decide that since this is a dream, I’ll check to see if I could look different. I dodge sideways out of view of the mirror, and mentally picture my features altering, then dodge back, and see that now I have a totally different face, and longer wavy hair. I don’t recognize the face from TV or anything, but in the dream I know that it’s some actor or personality; I get the feeling that I’m “trying on” somebody’s face. I do this again the same way, and then try it by just putting my hands over my face peek-a-boo style, and it works that way too. I’m laughing; this is fun, and I feel like it’s a good exercise in transformation control.
Then, the dream fades and I can feel myself lying in bed. I focus very hard on feeling my dream body, and spinning. I tell myself, “The next thing I see will be another dream…” and when I can feel the motion of the spin clearly, and feel the industrial-style carpet under my feet, I stop spinning, and am delighted to find myself still dreaming. Prolonging dreams has always been difficult for me.
I’m still in a large roomy apartment-house type space. I walk down a hallway, and there is a tall skinny man in a chainmail jockstrap (!) and assorted odd pieces of chainmail – it looks like somebody wanted to make a chainmail harness and jock, but instead of looking tough and manly, it looks bizarre and kind of feminine, like the chainmail that the belly dancers wear. He kind of turns me on… I decide that he’ll do. (This is pretty typical of this style of dream… the metaphorical bar isn’t set very high.)
He leads me down the hallway and into a bedroom. I wave the door shut behind me with my hand; it is a swinging wooden-slatted double door, reminds me of a honky-tonk, or the privacy doors that screen restrooms in country-style places. We climb into bed, and I start grabbing his ass. He is rubbing on me, being affectionate… but I want to get down to some serious screwing. I grab him by the chainmail jockstrap, and pull on it. I notice that he’s got a very odd penis – or actually, a little thing above or beside his penis – it looks like a skin tag, but larger, about the size of the tip of my little finger. I push him face-down onto the bed, and he twists away from me. He says, “You just don’t know how to turn me on.” I tell him that I’m not in the mood for that – and doesn’t he realize that this is MY dream? He doesn’t seem to want to respond to that; he ducks away from me like I’ve threatened to hit him. I keep at it, yelling at him, “This is my dream, do you understand? I’m dreaming you!” He pulls the covers up over his chin, like he’s trying to hide. He looks scared. Now, he looks almost like a cloth or clay doll – his features are shriveling up, like my anger is withering him.
I get out of the bed, walk out of the room, and down the hall. I’m looking for a different play partner. I see a room that has one or two big solid wood tables in it – it’s like a wide spot in the hallway, not a really separate room. I rub my feet on the floor and touch the wall, trying to increase the sensation a little and engage my dream body more fully – this often increases my level of awareness and involvement in the dream scenario.
I look under the big table, which has huge solid legs like a pool table, and is made of a dark wood like walnut. Underneath it, there is a man asleep on a pile of bedding. He looks kind of older, a little on the rough-cut side, but handsome. He’s thick-bodied and hairy, built like a construction worker. He has dark short wavy hair and a thick mustache. I reach in and roll him out from under the table and onto the floor. It seems like some of the bedding, pillows and such, roll out with him, and he’s lying on them on the floor beside the table. I say something to him about us having some fun, and I start to rub my body against him. Oddly enough, in both these encounters, I don’t recall being naked when I’m walking around, but I also don’t recall getting undressed before I’m naked in a sexual situation. I press my cock into his ass, and it’s muscular and firm and hairy… I can feel the sensation of the muscles in his ass squeezing my dick, and the hairs rubbing on the head of my cock as I push it in. I’m grunting and humping on his back, and I rub my face on the back of his head. I remember distinctly the scent of his hair, which is black and smells like some shampoo that I can’t place. I start to close my eyes and focus on the physical sensation, but then I realize that if I do that I’ll lose contact with my dream body, so I open my eyes and look down at the big throw pillow beneath his head, which is covered in a blue terry-type material. Then, despite my efforts, the dream fades, and I can’t bring it back into focus, and I find myself lying asleep in my bed. *end*