When You Dream


From a story I am working on: (its all fiction, NOT real life!)

When you dream, I feel it. If you dream of me, I feel it.  If your thoughts turn in my direction, and you focus, I feel it.  Today, I leaned back, closed my laptop and I too took a nap.  The night before really wore me out.  Lots of emotions, too many, not enough, all wanting, no quenching.  I suppose I will grow accustomed to this feeling.  I will miss it when I do though.  It is a great feeling. I’ve gone a very long time and wanted nothing. 

I cried myself asleep.  I actually sobbed and let it all out, it hurt.  A lot! I won’t allow myself to tap into that place again.  There is no need to wallow.  It is what it is and there isn’t a thing in the world I can do about it.  I realize you think you are somehow motivating me, and I realize that everyone else you’ve ever met needs a motivator.  It’s kind of funny really, I am the developer for others, or at least I used to be, and I have always been my own best trainer and motivator, hard to believe, but I seriously push myself harder than anyone else ever has.  I know I can always do better.

I also know that doing better requires effort.  I am tired.  Life holds very little interest for me.  I am poor, and stuck in circumstance.  Anything that might interests me costs money, which is not going to happen for me.  And so I sit. I write to kill time.  I like writing, it’s a great outlet.  Fuck load of work, long, long hours and often its crap and wasted time, but heck, at least I burned that puppy and now am one day closer to this lifetime being over.

I know, it sounds so fatalistic.  I am not at all a fatalist.  I am just not that attached to living.  I seriously feel it is a bit of an exercise in futility, but heck, killing myself didn’t pan out, and so here I sit.

Anyway, I digress, today, after I sobbed myself into a partial sleep, I began to feel you.  New visuals, images I’d never before manifested sprang up into my mind, unbidden they barged in and demanded I notice.  I looked, I noticed, I liked.  My body immediately reacted, which it has been doing now since you started talking to me.  Two weeks you said, well for two weeks, my body has been in the highest state of arousal I’ve ever experienced.  It takes all my will power to not stare at my phone, waiting to see your name.  I even woke up incredibly early just to see if your name was there.  Sigh.

So here were these new visuals.  Something about me; I truly believe our brains are incredible communication devices and if one has a powerful enough need to reach another, they can achieve it.  With the horses, they send visuals constantly.  It’s the horses that whisper and us that needs to learn how to hear them, see them, communicate with them on their level. 

So, today I got your visuals.  I guess you were sleeping, it was intense.  There was so much need, I about melted on the spot. I love how powerful you are, you don’t frighten me, you mirror me, you are the first to be such a force that I must reckon with you and not vice a versa.  We were sleeping together, naked, sleeping.  You pulled me to you, wrapped your arm over my waist and palmed my stomach, dragging me to your front.  You got hard so fast you still hadn’t fully awakened, but you were hard as granite. 

I gave to you instantly, wanting to be pressed as close to you as possible, always.  In real time my body was a wreck at this point.  My heart was stuttering along, not so much hammering as it was literally doing some erratic, irregular stall and restart shit, and it was a bit painful.  My pussy was soaking wet, and I could feel my pulse deep inside my core.  My ultra-sensitive nipples were jutting and hard as erasers.  My mouth was watering too. 

You pushed me onto my belly and you mounted my ass, sliding your cock up between my legs.  I spread for you, opening my apex, your hands came around and found each tit.  You smothered me with your body and buried your face in the back of my neck, and within seconds you were deep inside my body. Sliding in and letting my heat sheathe all of your incredibly heavy length. 

You stopped and we just languished there, in the land of synchronized breaths and thudding hearts.  We felt each other.  It was the most delicious moment of my life, you kissed my neck and then you bit me.  You fucked me hard for long breath holding minutes and I came so quickly it startled both of us.  You were soon to follow, and it took all your air, it was heated and copious and it made me cum again. 

It was a blip in time, quick and fast and the most feeling I have had in this body in so long I can’t really remember.  It made me ache to be in bed next to you.  I want to wallow with you, I want to belong to you so you can access me at a moment’s notice and use me to satisfy your every need.  I want to be your every need.     

Meticulous Anarchy


I was just outside and got distracted with a climbing vine that I am training over an archway.  It is still fetal, small, its tentacles are soft and young and very unruly.  It hasn’t learned how to really climb upwards, it keeps getting confused and going back in on itself.  I talk to it as I try to carefully extricate itself, from itself.  Then I carefully wrap that arm up and in the direction I want it to go.  It’s still an unruly mess, but now it is all contained and traveling in the same direction.  Controlled abandon?

As I was helping with the shoots that were splayed out into nowhere, searching for something to grab onto, I thought about myself and all my little parts, the tentacles of my personality and intellect and also my emotions.  Rarely do my emotions get the best of me, rarely do I succumb to their nagging.  I am a girl though, and sometimes, rarely, but sometimes I feel something much stronger than I think I should.  Or my body reacts without any forewarning from my brain, and I start to cry. 

This sucks by the way. It is embarrassing and seems weak.  I am anything but weak.  I am strong, and self-aware and sure of myself, and in general, I am the one doing to others or ‘happening,’ to others and rarely is the converse true.

This week for me has been strange.  I have writers block.  I suddenly have ADD too, something I’ve never experienced before.  I am the queen of focus.  Not this week.  This week has tumbled me this way and that, and I am still feeling as if it isn’t quite over.  I feel as if I need to protect and go fetal.  I don’t want too, I haven’t done that in years.  But still, that is where I am right now. 

My tentacles need help, I need to tuck them back in, unwind the ones that went the wrong way and get them going the right way.  But what is the right way?

When my mind does this to me, I am always in an existential crisis.  It happened to me over and over when I was on my horsemanship journey of good-better-best-never-let-it-rest.  I would reach a new level of competence and suddenly think I had no business teaching others and I probably shouldn’t even have horses.  It was a moment of oh shit, I’d been doing it wrong all that time before, and just now, all of a sudden, in that moment, I got it and I would forever do it correctly. 

Problem is, how do you say sorry to those you’ve taught, if you taught them wrong? It’s a tuff one for a teacher, and I am sure I am not the only one who’s taught others, that has gone through this exact thing. 

I definitely need some gardeners tape wrapped around a few stray limbs just to help me stay on track.  Unfortunately, I am my own keeper, and I don’t know quite how to apply.

The good thing about horses is that they forgive and forget.  They are in their moments, always will be, always are.  It’s over, it’s done, let’s move on.  It is so much harder when our big brains fire off random memories of past wrong doings, errors and mistakes we’ve made along the way.  So much harder to un-do, and then re-do.  If I let this vine do whatever it wanted, and a year from now I went and tried to untangle and re-train it, I couldn’t.  It would be set, it would be rigid and firm, and its soft delicate little tendrils would be hard and woody, unwieldy. 

I don’t want my heart to be this way, I don’t want my soul to be hard, woody and unwieldy.  So, I’ve allowed myself to open up and be honest and real, raw, truthful.  The problem is that others are still responding to me like they do to all around them, as if we all lie about ourselves and we are never truly honest. 

I am not like that, I am not lying at all, I am trying my darndest to be transparent, although I hate that word.  I think the word naked, is better.  My heart is undressed, my heart is open, my soul is exposed? I feel naked and exposed, all the time. 

I said something to a writer friend.  A young writer friend who is having a difficult time putting emotion into his work.  I told him something interesting, and it really hit home for me as well.  I said that emotions come from a place of experience.  The good and the bad, they are all slowly uncovered and exposed over time, after living for a span and duration.  Then, after they are uncovered, after we feel them and experience them, and whatever trigger that happened for us to see them, we either embrace them, and begin to strive to feel them again, or we start to cover them back up, push them back down, bury them, go numb.

Then they turn into this raw place, a slightly callused place that gets rubbed once in a while, and re-exposed, disturbed enough to crack open and bleed or weep. It is from there that we find depth for our words, and it is from there that we must learn to live if we want to be good writers.

The problem however is this, it’s a place of angsty upheaval, controlled abandon, governed chaos, meticulous anarchy.  Plain and simple, it’s a very uncomfortable place to live.  It’s your softest parts being unwound and then redirected, all without breaking, all without pruning.

I feel as if the first part of my life involved a lot of pruning.  Now though? Now is so much different.  I can’t just discard parts that are unpleasant, I can’t chop them off and walk away like I did before.  I don’t know why I can’t, but I just can’t.  So I am trying to train all these parts of myself into some sort of coherent clutter of personality, and at the same time, I am attempting to put all of that into words, to create a visual so others might feel and understand what is happening inside themselves. 

That’s all.  For now. In this moment.  Feeling deep, too fucking deep.  Sigh.