It’s cold, it’s winter and so starts the dreaming…
I had this really sexy dream about, dare I say it, someone from FB. I’d give the initials but it’s just too risky. I don’t want anyone to know anything about what’s going on inside my little head aside from what I write here. I will say that I think about this person from time to time, whenever they happen to pop up on a comment or post. But not more than that. And he’s not a good friend, mind you, none of the usual suspects, but just this guy for which I have been able to form some sense of curiosity. Good enough for a dream, anyway.
I can’t remember where I was but it must have been a party at someone’s house we happened to both be at, he and I and a bunch of other friends. But it was getting late and I found myself to be very sleepy, so I laid down on the floor in front of the TV. He came and sat beside me. He leaned down, very close into me and whispered in my ear, “don’t go to sleep,” and all my senses awakened. I could smell his clean skin and feel his breath, and hear his voice so clearly. And i remember thinking at that moment, I want this. And as i turned toward him, smiling and sleepy, I kissed his lips and touched his face. His hands ran down the length of my arm and over my hips and around to my belly and his face remained quite close to mine, smiling tenderly. And then I woke up. The moment was so sexy it woke me up. So…as is my custom, I will dream of this person all day.
This dream followed one of great horror. I was at another party, looking for G and someone said he was out in the courtyard. I went outside into this beautiful, Spanish-style sunny courtyard and there he was, in the corner, looking very sick and pale and he was sitting on one of those toilet seats on wheels with rail guards for handicapped people. Right out in the open courtyard. And he was shitting himself. And there was shit every where, all over the patio. But worst of all, I was barefoot and stepping in it. I ran over to him and being the caretaker I am, I said, “what are you doing? we need to clean you up.” And he just laughed at me and said, “this is who I am, baby. Get used to it.” I was so disturbed.
This second dream was hugely symbolic. I had recently written an article about G on his uncanny ability to live green. As we’re dumping some 20 metric tons of C02 into the atmosphere every year, he’s only dumping about six. A heroic feat. So, I have been in contact with him more than usual. He came over last night with a beautiful bracelet that he had “acquired” for me. It was a Christmas gift. And the thought was quite nice. But my brother was over when he arrived and I was nervous about the dynamics. Mikie doesn’t like G too much. Never has. Anyway, G comes in looking more homeless than usual (are there actual degrees of “looking” homeless- yes). The dingy layers of black and gray hoodies, the dirt under the fingernails, the wirey Grampa Herman-looking side-burns. Oh! And the smell of fried foods from the diner. I have always loved G for who he is inherently, underneath the shoddy exterior. And when we were together I had a certain amount of influence over how he kept himself. But I was actually grateful last night that we are NOT dating anymore. I don’t know how I was able to put up with that. I see it as a sickness now. An inability to care for oneself.
Anyway, we watched Superbad and had a few laughs. Mikie left around 8:30 and G around 10ish. No hugs, no kisses, no nothing. I was content about that.
But I now see how my brain is translating the events and why I dreamed the dream about the sexy guy. G represents where I was and where I no longer wish to be. And the FB guy represents where I am headed. Whether anything ever comes of this FB guy and me is not the point. The point is that my brain craves maturity, intellect, sexuality, cleanliness, normalcy (one person in particular from the forums subtly helped to guide me to this realization). For a few years now I have been seeking out the superficial stuff– the musician, the rebel, the super sexy Rockabilly guy with tattoos and long hair. There is definitely a side of me that is drawn to that. But I have learned the hard way that those types of men don’t seem to answer my craving for normalcy– of which a huge part of me needs. It’s not that I have dated “bad” men or cruel-hearted men. It’s just that their goals and dreams are quite different from mine.
I remember when I dated M, briefly. He used to say to me all the time, Tracy, I’m a family man. This freaked me out. Scared me to death. I didn’t want a family man. I wanted a rebel. I wanted a man who represented where I wanted to go, who I wanted to be. I wasn’t able to make peace with the fact that I am a family woman. I’ve always resisted it. Like my suburban housewife friend SD always says, “I am not a suburban housewife.” Well, I too struggle with that reality. I am an artist. I belong with an eclectic clique of writers and illustrators and musicians. Don’t I? OK, in fantasy-world, yes. But my reality is quite different. My reality is that I am very family-oriented. I am a homebody. I enjoy my children. I can’t really live the life of a rebel. I’ve never been able to. When will I finally realize that?
Oh anyway…Despite needing to make peace with my reality, I’ll take a night of sexy dreams for now. I can’t come to terms with my whole life too fast. Besides, I quite enjoy the freedom of fantasy. And at least I am dreaming of a man who has kids. That’s a huge step for me.