Note: This dream contains some fairly blunt descriptions of gay sex. If this would disturb you, if it’s not legal in your area for you to read it, or if you’re not old enough to read it or mature enough to deal with it, please don’t scroll down or click the cut link.
Dream 20030430, 6:00 AM:
For anybody who’s reading this and hasn’t read any of the sexual lucid dreams further back in the journal – I tend to have a very short attention span (think three-year-old) and a very horny sex drive (think nineteen-year-old) when I have this particular kind of dream. It can be kind of frustrating, because I wake up thinking, “Geez, I could have done so many neat things… explored the nature of consciousness and plumbed the depths of my secret mind…” – usually the only thing that remains in my mind is to play around with the dreamworld, and stick my dream-dick into imaginary people.
I’m dreaming along (I don’t remember what I was doing), when the Nova Dreamer lights flash. I recognize them for what they are; they don’t come disguised as flashing street lights or flickering candles. I put my hand up to my face and touch the mask; I notice, oddly, that I can see my hand through the fabric. It is like looking through shade cloth, or the face of one of those mascot heads; everything is blurry and sort of screened, but distinctly visible. I am standing inside a house, and was apparently talking to Chris when the Nova Dreamer lights hit. I tell Chris that I can see him – that I’m dreaming, and I can see through the mask. I start to walk through the house, looking at everything. The mask fades, and I can see everything clearly – it is almost like the sensation of an old television screen clearing. I am heading for the door – I want to go outside and fly. Chris holds me back; he wants to show me something. I explain that I don’t want to look, I want to go outside and fly. He tugs at my arm, but I open the screen door and go out.
I don’t take off into the air as I often do, but instead decide to notice the house in detail. It has a tree in front of it with bare-looking branches; it seems like early Spring, because it’s not chilly out, but the tree is still not fully leaved. The house is taupe with white trim, and looks a lot like a house from the turn of the century. It is two-storied, and has two gables on top facing forward. The porch has curved corners at the top in a sort of Craftsman style.
I don’t remember going back inside, but I find myself inside regardless. I am looking for a portal – some door that leads further into the dream world. This is one of the most effective methods that I’ve discovered so far to effect a change in dream situations. Once I enter on a strong, stable dreamscape, it can be amazingly resistant to change, despite the fact that I am consciously aware that it’s all a fabrication of my own mind’s making.
It seems like I’m in the kitchen of the Kingwood house – sort of. There’s no-one else here, although I keep getting the sensation that if I don’t manage to make good my escape fairly quickly, someone might come along and disrupt me. The walls and the cabinet fronts are a sort of golden yellow with brown detailing. I open some kitchen cabinets, trying to make one of them open onto a hallway or a trap door, but all of them stubbornly insist on remaining kitchen cabinets full of shelves and stuff. Some of them have odd narrow doors, and I try to find a push-lever or button that will make them open in a different way. A couple of them are empty (shelves, but no stuff) and I briefly contemplate trying to make them work, but decide it’s not likely to be successful. I try one taller cabinet, but it’s subdivided inside into many smaller sections.
I walk into the living room, which is paneled in dark wood-finish stuff. But in the dream, it’s real wood, dark like stained walnut, complete with real knots. I pry at the edges of a couple of panels, and finally decide that I’ll use one of knots as a button. I push on it, and it slides into the wall, and a long door-shaped section of the paneling swings open. I step behind it, and it is a mostly-empty hall closet, with clothes hangers (no clothes, though) and a light switch. It doesn’t seem like the light is on, it’s not really bright in here, but it’s not dark either. It’s well-lit in the way that a large-windowed room is on a cloudy day; everything is clear, but there aren’t shadows. I contemplate the idea of trying to flip the switch to see if it will make the back wall open. I turn toward the right wall of the closet, and concentrate on the idea that when I turn around, there will be some sort of portal on the left end. When I do, there’s a hallway leading out of the closet. It looks like a perfectly ordinary hallway leading to the bedrooms of a house, but it’s not anywhere I’ve been before. Bingo! As so often happens in my lucid dreams, I decide that I want to play around, and probably get some sex.
Thinking of sex gives me this quick image of a really hot-looking hairy ass in front of me in a bent-over position; it’s like I’m thinking of it – but as is often the case, thinking of something in Dreamland can take you there. I nuzzle my face into the ass, licking at it – I can smell the musky hot man smell, feel the tickle of the hair and the warmth of the flesh on my nose and my tongue. Then, I remember where I was going, and the scene disappears, and I walk into the hallway.
I walk down the hall, and see a mirror. I don’t remember entering a bedroom or bathroom, there’s just a mirror mounted to the hallway wall. I look at my reflection; it looks like me, but with the high-eyebrowed happy face that some adults use when dealing with very small children. It makes them look sort of amused and astonished. I decide to practice my transformations. I put my hands over my face, peek-a-boo style, and visualize having a different face. I don’t really aim for any face in particular. I pull my hands aside, and my face has indeed changed, but in fairly minor respects – I look sort of related to my original self, just not quite the same. I decide to make my face more square-jawed and handsome; this time, it comes out sort of rusty-blond and stubbly, with a kind of semi-studly squinty expression, like a guy trying to look tough. Kind of Lorenzo-Lamas-ish, although I only think of that in retrospect. I do it again a couple of times, each time with the same peek-a-boo hand move. One of them, I decide to try for curly soft black hair and green eyes, which I think looks striking, and I like that one a lot. I don’t remember if I change back to my “default” face, or end up going onward with a borrowed one.
I tire of this, and walk on down the hall. I see a bedroom and walk into it; there is a figure sleeping covered up on a small twin bed without a head or foot board. I pull the covers back, and it’s a kind of pasty white chunky guy with no body hair. He reminds me of a guy that we had in figure drawing class who was kind of depressing to draw because he hasn’t got good lines or energy. He doesn’t turn me on, but this is Dreamland, so I see if something can’t be done about it. I roll him sideways, visualizing his body changing. It works, some; his body becomes a little more muscular and interesting looking, but I can’t seem to get him to transform into the kind of stud I was hoping for. I end by rolling him onto his back at the edge of the bed, and he lays his head back to receive my dick down his throat. I put it in and pump it in and out. It feels good, and I do this for a little bit before deciding it’s not all that fun. I give up, pull out (although he seems to want me to stay) and walk down the hall. As so often seems to happen in these dreams, I’m clothed when I’m moving around, I’m naked or partially naked when it’s time for something sexual, and I don’t remember any transition between the two states.
I walk down a hallway the direction that would have led to the closet that I came in by, b
ut now it leads into a large master suite with a huge bathroom. In the bathroom is a great big garden tub; it is almost more like a jaccuzi, built into the corner of the room. It’s shaped like a rounded triangle, pointed into the corner, with the front edge probably eight feet or so across and five or six from front to back. To the left of the tub is a glassed in shower and a counter with a sink and a mirror. Around the edges of the tub are candles and all kinds of tubes, tubs, and bottles of stuff. In the tub, facing toward me is a really hot looking guy. He’s sandy blond, long and lanky looking, with a smooth-muscled but not ripped physique. He’s submerged in the water up to his shoulders, but I get the impression that he’s probably six-four or taller. He asks what I’m doing here; I tell him that I’m coming to see him. He says, “You come here to tease me?” I walk up a set of steps and climb into the tub. I get into the water, which is only luke-warm, and walk across the bottom of it. It’s quite deep, although the water seems to only touch me intermittently; I don’t have an all-over sensation of being in water, just a sensation of it lapping at my shoulders and my throat. I am sort of bent down so that I’m eye-to-eye with the guy as he’s sitting down. I reach down, still looking him in the eyes, and take hold of his cock. It’s soft and very relaxed, as if he’s been in the warm water for a long time. I tug on it gently, saying, “Tease you like this?” Then, I reach down with my other hand and rub his asshole (which I can reach just fine, although my waking logic would seem to dictate that he’d be sitting on it…) and it’s very pliant and slippery, like it has oil on it. As I’m playing with his cock and ass, I say, “Tease you like this, maybe?” He starts really getting into it, rolling his head back, his cock getting very hard in my hand. It’s not very big, fitting nicely into my cupped hand, but it gets very thick.
Just then, two things happen at once. A girl, who seems to be the man’s sister or cousin or some relation, bursts into the room; he jumps up, like he has to take care of her. At the same time (probably actually causing the other) the Nova Dreamer lights flash again. Again, they are very clear and distinct. I find myself with the mask on, and the dream has gone black except for the after-images on my retinas from the flashes. I hold on to the sense of being in that bathroom, and I imagine splashing water on my face as if to soothe my burning eyes. I do this for a few seconds, and I can feel myself splashing the water up onto my face- but I still have the mask on. I think that it might be messing the mask up to get it wet; I wonder if I’ve somehow half-wakened and I’m touching the mask for real. The mask has an odd texture, like it’s all elastic strap and no satin front, although this only occurs to me later. I keep thinking that the dream will resume, and then quite suddenly I’m back, standing in front of the mirror, without the mask. I have on the same “astonishingly happy” face, and I laugh at this. I pat at my face with a towel, although it doesn’t feel very wet. I do a couple of peek-a-boo transformations again, to see if they still work – they do. I go through a couple of faces, one almost Oriental, one more Latino – one with dark auburn hair and sort of burgundy-brown eyes which I think is particularly nice. Another with black soft curly hair like before, this time with blue eyes. I decide to move around and see if there’s anything else interesting I can do.
I see something on the counter that looks like pink faux flesh in the shape of a muscled back; I touch it, and it’s got an odd texture, like a softer version of the pink rubber that they make erasers out of. It’s just a square of back, like there’s the shape of a person but this is just a section. I just shrug, and walk on. I see another big mirror, and this time I think, I wonder if I could change my body? I find that I’m wearing a tank top with the sides kind of cut out; it’s like halfway between a tank top and a sideless shirt. I look in the mirror and flex my arms, and think that I want them to be bigger, more muscular. I look away, look back, and flex again. The arm I’m looking at has changed, but not much. I decide to see if I can make my body hairier; this just sounds like fun. I concentrate on the image of my body being firm, muscular, and covered in hair. I take off my shirt, and I can see that I’ve got a thick pelt of hair on my chest and belly, and lots of thick black hair under my arms. Not quite as much as I was trying to imagine, but a definite response to my intention.
At this point, the dream fades out again, and I find myself lying in bed, really awake this time, and unable to get back into the dream.