Dream

Give and take

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There is nothing I can give you
And nothing I can take
A shadow long and burning
A moment ere I wake

But I am lost to dreaming
I am lost, it’s true
The dream is of my making
Of building more to you

I am softly waking
A moment I’m confused
Your warmth has long fled
This heart we built for two

On waking I am empty
A space too big to fill

Your heart is slightly broken
But I have seen much worse
I will patch you up
Be a Latticework

You will heal
And when you leave
I will be undone
but a little fuller too

I will hold the hope that wounded birds
Made whole and now to fly
Will remember that broken man
And visit time to time

And secret kept in heart of hearts
That one will wish to stay
The foolish hope that brings,
And holds the reckless
tears at bay

Even in my dreams 

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I dreamed last night about a woman with dark hair. A bit curly. with dark eyes that smouldered. She had curves and valleys. She was looking for something and found me. I don’t believe that I was what she was looking for. We ended up in my bed. King size, cream colored silk sheets. With a 4 point suspension rig. Kissing her was like kissing a waterfall. Tentative, just the edge then power and passion that nearly wipes you away until you are standing in the middle, fierce joy and need, a fire burning. Our clothes disappeared and we stood with our imperfections baired. We fell on each other like starving wolves. Tongues and nails. Teeth and flesh. The first orgasm was a thing of abandon and need. Something that tore out of us to beat heavy on the warming air. We slowed long enough to hear her desire to fuck me with a strap on. Flash to me face down in the cooling sheet while she pounds into my ass with a fuschia dildo. It was glorious. Pain and pleasure and the thought of the beautiful woman wanting this. Flash to us spent on the bed.

I look quizzically at the suspension rig and she nods eagerly. She likes pain and being out of control, sometimes, then. I lock her in and suspend her. Black leather caressing and spreading her. Exposing her to me. Vulnerable. Safe. I take her. Edge her to orgasm then pull back. Until she’s writhing with need then push her over the edge. Again and again, until she is limp and spent. Her body shuddering in aftershocks. We are sweating and the air smells of sweat and other things. I get a towl. Soft. I clean her and myself off. She is falling asleep. I snuggle down next to her and sleep.

I wake some time later. She is gone. I rush out in a robe and find her walking home. I say, “Stay. You can stay. Have breakfast with me. Have lunch. Stay.”

She says, “I have to go. I’m looking for my daughter. I think I met you at the wrong time. We could have been something.”

I say, “Find her, then come back to me. You are safe here. Always.”

She just looks away.

I say, “There is no right moment, no perfect time. There is only this moment. This time.”

Then I woke up.

Dream 

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Dreamed I was in some town in Scotland for some reason.  I had the looming feeling that I was waiting for someone or someone was coming to see me.  Odd. 

Just questions.

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How can I be tired of not kissing you, of not being with you when I’m not sure who you are? Yet, that is how I feel. A bone deep weariness that steals over me, when I think about this person in my dreams. She always looks the same, her voice is the same. The thought of her voice fills me with longing. Does she look like she does in the dreaming? Will I recognize her? Or, depressingly, is she a hope unrealized of a heart cast open wide? Does she not exist, except in the heart of who will love me as I love them? Am I asking questions without answers? A chicken or the egg. Does she exist in my dreams because she loves me or because she will love me? Does it matter? I will seek her in my dreams, to hold her in my arms. I will do so until we meet and as often as I can after. Am I just a romantic fool, looking for someone who isn’t?

Dreams precede

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She waits for me when I close my eyes, delighted that I have come back to her. Who are you? I sent out a call and you appeared in my dreams. I can feel your lips on mine. The warmth of you next to me, snuggled down in bed under comforter. I feel the pull of you. But I don’t know to where. I cannot direct my feet when I know not the destination. The advice would be to allow the world to move and as it moves be pulled to you like gravity. And that’s wise. But the voice of experience says, you must find her and be with her. Life is fleeting it says and each moment should be lived in exquisite joy. And I want the latter but I have no choice but to follow the former.

How my dream ended

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I walk up to a table at some kind of gala. I sit down and look at the sad young lady sitting alone. She’s beautiful. I could describe her, but all women I find beautiful are pretty in their own unique way. Suffice to say she was stunning. I say “hello, would you like to spend tonight with me? I have had a bad run of it and I don’t want to be alone tonight. Just be with me.”

She asks, “I’m not going to be your vacation fling.” she says it with an unturned lilt. Questioning and almost timid.

I smile crookedly and say “Not if you don’t want to be. Let us have this night. And in the morning if you want to leave you can, but I would much rather you stay.”

We sit drinking champaign. Small sips. There is a small orchestra sitting around. Like they know now one is dancing so why play when no one will listen.

I stand and hold out my hand, “Would you like to dance?”

She says, “but they aren’t playing any music.”

I say, “They will.”

And we dance.
The song we danced to:

Waking dream 

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She stood before me. Tall in her heel, standing fierce. The soft paleness of calves curve upward. Her form is strength and hardship. But soft, so soft. Flesh that takes the markings of our lovemaking, that marks the lines of her possession. The heady scent of her cunt mingles with her soft perfume. Smelling of delicacy and delight, recalling the taste of her sweetness. Eyes take in the slight abundance of belly, this she sees as flaw and I see as beautiful. Yielding, the sound of a flogger slapping lightly, further marking her as mine. Her breasts are pillows, showing my bite marks, bruising in blacks, blues and yellows. She says they hurt and remind her of my attention and intention throughout the day. Each mark, each bruise, each small pain, reminding her of my total possession.

She watches me drink her in, wicked grin on her face. This our ritual each time. Her grin bursts wider pulling deep within me. This the smile that makes me want to ravish her, to take her until there is nothing left but grunts and pain and pleasure. All humanity torn away. Give in to shear animalistic rutt.

Her eyes twinkle, like she knows what I’m thinking. Like she knows and deeply approves. Knowing in my gaze and less than tender mercies, finally at last, how truly beautiful she is.

A rooftop view

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Love is a force all its own. It moves world’s as surely as gravity. But in its wake the things that are changed are you and me. Wiser, happier or devastated, all because the heart recognizes its counterpart and thrusts, dagger quick, into the mind. Taking residence, guiding us to each other. Leaves caught in the tempest. Clinging to each other, having at last found our way home.

Belief is not a prereq

Pelgris10 Comments

So, 5 days ago I had been dreaming about someone and I dreamed about them for three days. Dream walks don’t normally last that long and are generally not sequential. Dreams I have that are only dreams have an intangible cotton candy in the rain feel. This felt real. She disappeared halfway through night 4 and I’ve was unable to find her at all last night. It’s like looking through sand for a particular grain where before it’s like we were lodestones. There are aspects of my life that are insane from a strictly modern perspective. Eg Magic, spirit worlds, dreamwalking, soul constructs, wards, etc. And I realize I must seem nuts or at best odd, but I miss this person who I only knew in my dreams.

Thoughts that spill tears

Pelgris3 Comments

I haven’t been to sleep in 24 hours
And I can feel the sluggish nature of my thoughts, but I think I’d be OK if I never slept again. Because when I sleep I dream and I remember my dreams. I’m aware in them. And often I’m with someone who loves me. It’s not Morgan anymore. I don’t know who they are. I just know that they wait for me beyond the veil of sleep. They accept and love me for all of me, my flaws, everything that I am. And that’s great but I leave them. I wake and I’m torn away from them over and over. I don’t know how long I can endure that. So not sleeping seems the better course, but I feel like I could be betraying them by staying away. What if they are as real as I am and they wait for me? What if we’re both just searching and this is what we’ve found. It’s both insane and sad when I write it out, but that’s who I am right now. A sad, lonely writer, dreaming of something he had, that it seems he’ll never have again. Madness seams a refuge in that case.