An Absinthe-Loving, Polyamorous, Kinky, Sex-Positive Couple talk about all things Sex, Kink, and LGBTQ.

I Dreamt of Her: A Wicked Wednesday Post

I don’t dream often, now, nor have I for decades. Most of my memorable dreaming stopped around the time I entered puberty. This isn’t anything I’ve really explored, although I understand I might want to. Not remembering dreams isn’t what is considered normal behavior, I guess. Still, when I was single in my early 20s, there was a night where I dreamt of my ex-girlfriend strongly; vividly; memorably.
We’d not seen each other in years. Opening the door to see her standing there was not on my list of expectations for the day, especially considering the distance. Questions rushed through my mind. I’m sure confusion washed over my face. I opened my mouth to speak, but found myself with nothing to say. How could I? All this time and I still loved her, still yearned for her, and here she was, on my doorstep, waiting.

I recovered my wits and invited her in, asking her if I could get her something to drink or eat or … whatever. She asked for a glass of water. I poured one for each of us from the filtered pitcher in the fridge as she kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch with her legs tucked under her and her back at attention, her head held high. Walking over to the couch I had the moment of realization that she’d always done that when she had something important to say to me but was unsure what my reaction might be. My nerves, already high, kicked into full butterflies in the stomach mode. I think my hands trembled slightly as I passed her glass to her and settled on the couch opposite her — close enough to touch, but far enough away to give her the space I sensed she needed. I wasn’t going to rush her. She’d shown up unexpectedly; something important was surely involved.

After taking a long, slow sip from her glass and licking her lips — gods, those lips! — she looked at me in that eerie calm manner she had and said decidedly “My family has gone apeshit. Mom and Dad have split, my brother and sister are both fighting addiction and legal problems. The divorce proceedings fucked up my college loans, and I can’t stay in school until it gets resolved. I had to get away from all of that shit for a few weeks, and to put some distance between all of them and me. Can I stay with your for awhile? I promise I’ll stay out of your way, and help around the house, and do whatever you need me to do while I’m here. Please. I need your help, and … I missed you. The entire drive over, I was imagining what I would do once I saw you again, and I had this grand speech all planned, and I got some it out but the rest has just fallen to shit because fuck, Mister, you’re still pretty and parts of me still respond to your presence in ways I wasn’t expecting and I don’t know what I’m going to do while I’m around you and now I’m rambling and am going to shut up now, okay?”

Stunned, I did the only thing I could think to do — I leaned forward and offered her a hug. She fell into my arms, and I caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes. I kissed the top of her head (“just like you used to do when she’d cuddle,” my brain screamed) and I just held her for awhile. We didn’t say anything; nothing needed to be said. We simply were.

Eventually, though, my stomach growled, which ended the peaceful silence. She rolled her head to glance up at me and asked, with a smirk on her face, “What, I show up at your place and it makes you hungry?” Daring to be bold, I countered “I never stopped being hungry for you.” She blushed and sat up, pulling away, and paused for a moment before replying “Maybe we should go get dinner and talk about that?” I agreed, and went upstairs to dress for heading out while she attended to her needs in the half-bath downstairs.

We ran out to a little local Japanese place that I knew, as we both needed some comfort food and both gravitated to Miso Soup and Tempura for that very thing. We talked about everything she’d been facing, from the troubles in her family, the frustrations of having school effectively kick her out while they processed appeals for funding, troubles she’d had with guys she’d dated over the past few years, to the fear of just showing up unannounced and being potentially turned away. Her glance started slipping away at that point, the subject obviously uncomfortable. I reached across the table, touching the back of her hand lightly, and told her that I’d promised once that I’d always be there for her if she needed help, and that I was holding to that promise. It didn’t matter how ugly things got for a time; we’d already reconciled that. Now all we had to do was get her back on her feet. She smiled, nodding. We finished our meal laughing.

After getting back to my place, I apologized for only having the one bed and offered to crash on the couch so she could get a good night’s sleep. She accepted. I grabbed a blanket and the spare pillow I kept, and made my nest for the night. I settled down with the book I was reading and tried to focus on the story, but my mind wouldn’t relax enough to remember anything in front of me,. I read the same page four or five times, but none of it was sticking. Hoping for peace, I put the book down, sat up, and started meditating, thinking if I could just maybe get my mind clear then my body would find behind. I closed my eyes. My breathing became my entire focus. My mind wandered, diving and twisting through scenarios of what might happen now. I thought I heard a noise from the stairs, but they made noise all the time, and I was trying to keep myself from being distracted. Just keep breathing. Let the mind go.

A hand touched my shoulder. My eyes shot open. There she was, standing in front of me wearing a thin sleeping shirt and sheer underwear that was clinging desperately to her hips. Her long legs captivated me, as they always had. Speechless, I looked up at her questioningly. She leaned forward, a look of peaceful longing on her face as she whispered “I need something more than sleep tonight,” and kissed me with the fervor and passion of a long lost lover.

I awoke, gasping for breath, as alone in my bed as I’d been when I’d gone to sleep. Glancing at the clock, I could see I only had another 20 minutes before my alarm was scheduled. “Well, might as well get up now,” I muttered. I started getting ready for work, wondering when, if ever, I would see her again outside my dreams.

This was a Wicked Wednesday Post. Click the button below to see who else is playing along.

10 responses

  1. I really love how detailed your dream was. And of course, I would love to know what happened next… but, you woke up 😉

    Rebel xox

    January 10, 2018 at 3:19 pm

    • It’s been nearly 15 years and I still don’t know what happens next! My subconscious never chose to continue the story, I guess.

      January 10, 2018 at 3:24 pm

  2. Jo

    Wow – that is a *really* vivid and lengthy dream for someone who normally doesn’t remember their dreams!!! Had you lost contact with this ex when you had the dream?

    January 10, 2018 at 5:22 pm

    • At the time of the dream she and I were in fairly regular contact via AOL Instant Messenger, and were both fairly recently single after having relationships of relatively substantial length.

      And yeah, the bonus of almost never remembering my dreams is that the ones I do remember tend to be of feature film length and include full sensory involvement. Reading, writing, tasting, smelling, touching; all feel real in the dream, and create memories that can be vividly recalled years later. I’m a fun anomaly.

      January 10, 2018 at 5:31 pm

  3. Firstly may I just say it’s been so lovely to re-discover your postings recently . . . as eloquent and insightful as they were previously.

    And . . . secondly . . . what a wonderful dream. I was so hoping that your waking-up would end in an emotional and passionate consummation !!!

    Xxx – K

    January 10, 2018 at 5:56 pm

    • I was away for far too long, but I’m letting the need to write take hold again and it feels wonderful!

      I too had wished for a better awakening, but alas, we cannot always get what we want.

      January 10, 2018 at 7:37 pm

  4. Mmmm yummy. “There she was, standing in front of me wearing a thin sleeping shirt and sheer underwear that was clinging desperately to her hips.” I can see that so perfectly.

    January 10, 2018 at 6:18 pm

    • Thank you! I could think of no other way to describe the image that was in my head for that. I am ever so glad that others see it as well! Perhaps I’ve not lost my touch.

      January 10, 2018 at 7:39 pm

  5. Oh I have definitely had feature length dreams like this, not often mind you but it has happened.


    January 11, 2018 at 5:49 pm

    • Do yours become overwhelmingly realistic as well? All my dreams like that are completely indistinguishable from my waking life, which is simultaneously awesome and disconcerting.

      January 11, 2018 at 5:57 pm

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