I had another one of my crazy dreams this week.

I was with my two older sisters and they were holding a baby but were getting bored, so I offered to take the baby.  Somehow I knew the baby was actually me.  I took the baby in my arms and it happily laid on my chest.

Then she started breastfeeding and my sisters were telling me I was doing it wrong because I was laying on my back when I should be sitting up.  I told them she was doing fine and soon she fell asleep.

I woke up with that sweet feeling of having a sleeping baby on my chest.  I really don’t think there’s a more amazing feeling than that- not even the warmth of a lover in your arms.

I swear that dream reignited my maternal instinct.

But, to psycho analyze it, it’s obviously signifying how I feel I have to take care of myself because nobody else will.  I like when dreams are easy like that.

Not all my dreams are so weighty though.  The next night I had a dream of Lolita doing piercing on me (there was more to it, but that’s all I could remember).   I like those fun dreams too.

I had the dream last night.

My reoccurring running away from something and trying to lock the door dream.  It was different this time though.  I was in my car at a gas station and I was being bothered by some guys outside my window.  I was nervous and afraid so I was trying to lock my doors and roll up my windows, but it wasn’t working.  Their hands kept coming in the window, but nothing bad was really happening.  So I don’t think I was really in any danger (a difference from my other running away dreams)(and also significant in the meaning of the dream).  I eventually managed to roll up the windows and pull out of there.

But that didn’t stop me from feeling so scared.  Tight chest, fast breathing, panic.

Fucking dreams.

At least this is the most decipherable dream I have.  I know exactly what it means.  Except it’s no longer about Jefferson…

There was a storm over my house last night that was so loud it woke me up (and kept me up until it passed).  The lightning would flash brightly and the loud cracks and booms followed immediately.  Some were so loud they startled me and made me jump a little.

I remember in hazy half sleep dreaming of Jefferson.  And it was a simple dream: I was at his place and we hugged tightly as I came in the door and then we just cuddled on the couch.  Then he started crying.

That’s all I remember before passing back out.

Celia wrote me this note in response to my post Snap and gave me the OK to post it, because I thought she made a really good point:

I admire you for your ability to endure a relationship that many would have found impossible. While a relationship with Jefferson (and his many girlfriends) may be “right” for some… it may not be right for all. And when you think about it, successful poly relationships are essentially relationships with many people. Not with just your one guy, but you have to ultimately get along with all of them. And if you don’t, well as you’ve discovered, there’s trouble in paradise.

In my opinion (and remember i’m in a mono marriage) any other partners need to do their best to co-exist and be respectful of each other’s relationships with Jefferson as well as respectful of any of his other partner’s needs. From what you’ve relayed, that doesn’t seem to be happening which is a recipe for disaster.

Whatever you decide to do, whether it be to continue lighting a fire and burning your bridge or allowing J’s water to wash over you, I hope that you find the happiness you deserve. You are a special, wonderful girl that is an amazing catch for any guy (or girl).

I really agree with that.

Now, I know it’s not nice call someone Miss Priss or Ms. Stick-up-her-ass, but I’m really no longer obligated to be nice or even civil now that I’m done with Jefferson.

But when I first started seeing Jefferson, I wanted to be nice and buddy buddy with all the girls I’d read about. So I had my blog and then I created a MySpace and I went to add Jefferson and Meg and Viviane and Madeline and Mitzi (she had a profile for a hot second). Jefferson, Meg, and Mitzi all added me no problem but Viviane and Madeline never did, and naive, silly me thought it was some computer error and I resent requests a few times until it hit me they had no intention of being friends with me.

And as time went on and I learned better the dynamic of Jefferson’s group I realized, “Ohh, so I’m back in the 6th grade.” Great, I fucking hated the 6th grade! Cliques, cattiness, rivalry and jealousy (now mind you, it took me a while actually before I started getting jealous as well).

You know something, times that I was happiest with Jefferson was when I was getting along with everyone else. And some of my top memories are from when Jefferson, Mitzi, and I would share a bed at the end of the night. And then there were bad times where I felt ostracized by the other women. Those weren’t very happy times.

I had this dream this morning that was quite pleasant and gave me the warm fuzzies as I was having it (and then I woke up and realized what reality was). I dreamt I was in bed with Jefferson and Madeline at the end of a sex party. I was sleepily curled up next to Jefferson while Madeline was on the other side. And in the dream, not only did she put her arm around Jefferson, but me as well, which I remember surprising me a little (she also had super soft skin in my dream). And then she said something about cheesecake and I said “Mmm, I love cheesecake,” and they laughed because they thought I was asleep. And then she had to go and kissed Jefferson and like petted my hair. I was cuddled up with Jefferson but remembered that we were broken up, so I didn’t think it was right that we were being all cuddly.

Dreams are funny, huh?

Boy do I wish a blog like mine had been around when I first met Jefferson so I just could’ve known. I may have still decided to meet Jefferson, but at least I would’ve been better informed and not caught up and disillusioned by the fantasy and romanticism of (especially) his blog.

Dreams are strange.

Well, mine are at least. And I have been having a lot of dreams lately. I really should remember to write them down all the time. Because I forget them. Duh.

Even last night’s dream is really only bits and pieces and more memories of how I felt rather than what happened.

But I dreamt I was getting married. And it was a spur of the moment thing that my sisters planned for me. My half sisters on my dad’s side. And therefore my mom and step-dad and those sides of the family weren’t invited.

And although it wasn’t clearly spelled out, it did appear I was marrying Jefferson. But a Jefferson in his 20’s.

And I remember stalling because I wanted my family to be there and my sisters kept pushing me to get the ceremony started. I felt like I was waiting for something else too, like waiting for Jefferson to arrive.

I remember standing in a small back room in a wedding gown, and it was really crowded and bustling outside.

I’ll have to analyze this because I’m not really sure what it means at this point.

I haven’t really been giving my sisters much thought these days, so I’m not too sure why they popped up last night.

So I dunno, but at least it’s written down now so I won’t forget any more of what happened.

I was talking with my step-dad tonight about my nightmare I had this morning and we came up with this interpretation that I feel is dead on:

The first part where I’m stealing but I think it’s the other girl doing it is how I see myself as two different people (like Avah and then the real me) and the real me doesn’t see myself doing those outrageous things but does actually do them, but in a calm, “I’m not doing anything wrong” way.

And then the second part where I’m in NY was in general about my sexuality (being beat up and on a crowded NY street, for example) and then the man who was chasing me is representing my attachment to Jefferson that I try to run away from because I’m afraid it’s going to hurt me.

If you ask me, the unconscious is fascinating stuff.

Technorati Tags: sex blog, dreams, nightmares

“What are you doing?” I asked her as she picked at a lock inside the dark store.
“Shhh…” she responded. “This way the cops won’t find you.”

She didn’t mean me though. It was her that was stealing and picking a lock.

I picked up items from the electronics store and put them in a grocery bag.

I watched her snip a wire on a lock and bolted with her when it set off the alarm.

I hurried away from the store with her, but walked casually to my car, confident I wouldn’t be stopped because I had my things in a bag.

I watched her run and duck behind a car as a security truck raced to the front of the store.

When I got to my car in the back parking lot there were 2 young men right by my car where I noticed all my electronics (laptop, phone, camera) in plain reach! I hurriedly put them away, nervous about how close the men were to me.

My bag was on the side of the car next to them and I quickly grabbed it to add to my trunk.

But it turned out they were only scavenging for food.

“Are you guys hungry?” I asked them, looking in my car to find food.

They shrugged their shoulders.

“Here, have some fritos,” I offered, handing them a Ruffles bag containing some chips
They took it and scurried off.

I left the parking lot of the stores by my house and next found myself in an apartment in New York.

I said goodbye to my girlfriends and walked down the stairs of a brownstone onto a busy New York street when I saw one of the men from the store.

I tried to pretend I didn’t recognize him, but I saw he recognized me.

I was petrified. I couldn’t run back inside for fear he’d follow me.

I called my friends upstairs frantically.

“Call the cops,” they tell me.

I dial a number and get a music ringtone and then dial another number for Fire Response (I just saw “Just My Luck” last night) and get the dispatcher.

Except I’m back inside the apartment for some reason.

“Yes, there’s this man outside I’m really afraid of and I recognize him from back in Jersey and I don’t know how he found me in New York. I’m at 67th and, shit! What the fuck’s the address here?” I shout at my friend.

“66th and Ams.” she replied.

“I’m at 66th and Amsterdam,” I relayed to the woman on the phone.

“Well we can’t help you until you arrive.”

“Arrive where?!”

Then I’m back on the street corner.

I hang up my phone as I see him approach me.

“Can I take you out for coffee?” he says.
“No that’s ok.”

I try to cross the street, but it changes to red and there’s a stream of taxis blocking my way.

The light finally changes to walk and I try to loose him in the crowd.

When I get a little further down the street, I turn to see where he is and scream and try to run when I see he’s right behind me.

But he grabs me and I fight back, scratching at his face and pounding on his chest. But he hits back, getting me in the face and breaking my nose.

We’re in front of a crowded cafe and he’s beating me up and is trying to bury me in big holes in the sidewalk but I keep fighting back.

Suddenly it’s all over and I’m in another apartment in the city with my parents. We’re celebrating my survival over dinner.

I go to the door to deadbolt it, scared of leaving it open after that ordeal.

The door starts being pushed open as I struggle to turn the lock.

I manage to shove the door enough to attach the chain on the door, and instantly the fight against the door stops.

Next scene I’m locking the door again, except as I’m turning the lock, my attacker pushes open the door and grins evilly at me. I scream and try to call for my mom as he grabs me.

I don’t know if I was ever rescued because that’s when I woke up and refused to go back to sleep.

If there are any dream interpreter people out there who could maybe have some insight on what that all means, it’d be much appreciated!

Technorati Tags: sex blog, dreams, nightmares