Posted on July 25, 2014


My last mini-post apparently planted an errant seed in my subconscious: last night I dreamt about DK.

As far as I can tell, time is pretty elastic in the realm of dreams. In the waking world, for all I know this dream may have only been 30 seconds long. But in the slumbering one, it seemed to last a very long time. If it had been a movie, it would have been Giant or Ben-Hur. As for content, had it been a novel it could have been written by John Irving, Stephen King and Anais Nin, all tripping.



My dream world is vivid and dynamic: full color, surround sound, often intricate plots, amazing special effects. But even for me, this one was elaborate and, at times, startling. I remember my dreams when I awake which can be disconcerting, as this one was. It was one of those dreams that, upon awaking, continues to seem very real for a time.

DK came to my house, although it wasn’t really my house, it was someone else’s and it had a very deep pool where I swam nude while he looked on from a balcony above. I could hold my breath for an astoundingly long time with no difficulty; I swam the length of the pool and back, skimming the bottom, never surfacing for air.

But that was just a sidebar; like all dreams it leapt from one conversation and place to another and then back again, making complete sense. But try to describe it in full detail and it sounds nonsensical. So I won’t even attempt it.

I was angry at him when he turned up, which is no surprise. But I found it hard to maintain that anger. And he was different in some ways than the last time I spoke to him (in real life), over two years ago. Less self-absorbed, more compassionate, older. As if he had had some rough times since last we saw each other which lead him to self-examination, inner exploration. (Which, in the dream, he had. Something quite horrible had happened to him, but he was calm and at peace about it.) He was gentler. He was, however, still charming and aware of it; he turned it on me full force. He still wanted me to be in his life, but on the side. We did eventually touch and it was still electric and our bodies melded.

You know, the whole thing was just damn weird. The content and that I dreamed it at all. I’ve written about dreams here before. Maybe the cause for this one was a blot of mustard or a crumb of cheese, maybe something buried in my subconscious that bothered me, like the lack of closure in our relationship as well as the lack of fruition. Maybe a little of all. Who knows? Not me.

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Posted in: 2014, mind