Dream: The Raspberry Bayer Aspirins LUCID *sexual*
Note: This entry contains some graphic descriptions of gay sex. If it’s not legal in your community for you to read it, you’re not old enough, or it would disturb you… please don’t click on the cut-tag.
Dream 20030527, 6:30 AM:
This dream was lucid from the start – a Wake Initiated Lucid Dream, which is rare for me. After quite a long time trying to get comfortable, I finally settled into a good position, and began to feel my sense of my body fading. I listened to hypnogogic noise, and tried to concentrate on feeling my dream body, which eventually came into being.
I find myself in a living room that reminds me somewhat of Grandma’s house, although larger and full of more stuff. I wander around the living room a little, enjoying the dream sensations. I’m fully conscious of the fact that it’s illusory, and I’m taking in all the colors and textures. There is a lot of stuff piled in the room, almost like it’s being used as a storage space – there aren’t boxes, but things are piled on top of each other. I climb up some of the piles, looking down on the room; the ceiling is very tall, like fifteen feet or more. I jump off of the tall pile, and although I fall fairly quickly, I don’t hurt my feet or anything. Chris is here, and I remark to him that I didn’t get hurt because it’s a dream.
I walk into the the kitchen, and there are some people here. I pick up a white disk that has five or six little raspberry-colored spots on it; they are Bayer aspirins, with the name spelled out in little letters, but they’re attached to the disk. I look away and then look back at it, and the wording has changed; I do this several times, amused at the permutations of the lettering. The styles of the letters change, and after a few tries, the little red disks are gone, and I’m just holding a piece of white stuff, it looks kind of like porcelain or marble with the lettering engraved into it. I try to remember some of the things it says; I think that it may be informative later on. Unfortunately, upon waking, I don’t remember any of it. I open a big old-fashioned (like from the fifties) freezer, and push my face into it to see what’s inside and feel the cold. There is some sort of grid, and I kind of bump my face on it; it doesn’t hurt much, but I realize I can’t put my whole head into the space inside the freezer. I am still just reveling in the sensations of the dreamscape.
I also don’t remember now, who most of the people in the kitchen are. I remember Grandmother is here, and I think that I hand her the little white disk, and walk outside. It is sunny and beautiful, and I jump up into the air and sort of bounce around, not really flying so much as bounding up and down.
I catch sight of my reflection in a big picture window on the side of a modern-looking gray-sided house. It’s one of those that has a sloped roof where one of the walls is very tall and flat, the other shorter. I notice that the window makes me look more muscular than I am; I pause and grin and flex my arms, posing for the mirror. I decide that I will make myself look hugely muscular, and that is fun for a few seconds. Then, I climb upward a little, so that I can see the rest of the large reflective window, and somehow the reflection of myself turns into another man, up on the top of a roof between me and the window. He turns, and I notice the shape of his back, and think that it’s odd that my reflection has generated an entirely separate person. I notice that there are a couple of other guys up there; I think they’ve got a swimming pool, because they’re not naked, but in swimsuits or shorts. I remember something from a friend’s journal about enjoying really rough play including punching. In an almost puppet-like manipulation of the dream scene, I have one of them go up to another (I think there are three guys here now) and punch him hard in the stomach. The other guy doubles over a little, then straightens and punches back. The other guy joins in, helping the first aggressor to hold down and subdue the punch-ee. They tear his shorts off, and start playing in a sort of rough sexual way. It’s clear that although the guy being subdued is fighting back, he’s enjoying the whole scene. I join them on their deck, and run my hands over the guy who is now on his back on the floor. I start fucking him – as is so often the case in these dreams, I don’t remember undressing, although I find myself naked when things become sexual. I am very conscious of keeping my eyes open, and concentrating on balancing the sensations from my cock with the visual impressions from my eyes, so that the dream won’t disintegrate. I think to myself that the only time I’ve actually orgasmed in a dream was by jacking off, and wonder if I’ll be able to get off by fucking this guy. It sure feels good, though. After a while of really sweet thrusting, I pull my cock out and stroke it a few times – it seems abnormally thin at the end – and it starts spurting everywhere. It’s spurting a lot of fluid, seems like a mix of jizz and water, and I wonder to myself if my sleeping body is pissing itself, or needing to pee. I know that if I started to actually piss in my sleep, though, I’d wake up. I feel like I sort of “check in” with my sleeping body, at which point I kind of half-wake.
I go back into dreaming without a problem. At this point, I’m walking down a row of rooms in a hallway of a house; the floors are wooden and old looking, most of the doors are partly askew, and I peek into the rooms as if choosing which one to enter for my next adventure. I decide that I want to try a different building – and I begin to spin my body to change the scene. It doesn’t change much, though – I am still in a house hallway with wooden floors, although it is a different one than before. I try running down the stairs, and something clicks in my mind about someone having a panicky nightmare involving stairs, and there is a vague sense that this dream could turn nightmarish. I reach a door on the stairwell, and put my hand on it, saying, “This is the ground floor, this door goes outside,” but when I go through it, it is a basement. Although musty, it is well-lit and unthreatening. Without a transition, I’m back in the hallway, and I try again to change the building – to an office building this time – but it fails, and I wake up.
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