2008/02/23
i had a dream last night that a crush of mine met me in this old log cabin somewhere out in the woods. i was staying there by myself and he drove up on his own to surprise me. it was coming on night and i was in the bedroom making the bed with those old flannel sleeping bags everyone had in the 70s - you know the ones, stuffed with feathers and heavy and the inside fabric had sepia cowboy scenes on it? i know you know. anyway, he walked in and i was all surprised and tickled by his appearance. he pulled out this gorgeous underbust corset and asked permission to lace me up into it. i said yes. it was incredibly erotic, feeling the boning and jacquard fabric close in tighter and tighter around my rib cage and back and under my breasts; the sound the laces made as he yanked them through their grommets.
2008/02/04
dearest,
i woke up with the words, "stop shouting," mummering from my lips and my hand patting the part of the bed where you'd been only moments before - at least as i dreamed it. as i dreamed streamers of sparrows drifting past the bedroom windows, as i dreamed flickering dawnlight through ragged earthtone wings, shadows over our faces slack with lovemaking, through your voice calling for me down a long hallway, or over the high frequency flightbeats against glass.
it was weird, and i should have known it was a dream, because while your face was above me, lost in our passion, i could hear you were yelling for me from some distant dreamplace of your own. a place i know pretty well as i've been there too. i've hung around in the coppery dusk and watched portals throb open and swell closed and the parades of memories and fantasies striding by; alternately ignoring me and pursuing me as packs of wild dogs down alley ways. they aren't vicious, just hungry, but they frighten me anyway.
you know your voice carries subsonically. it sounded like that whooshing noise you get when you open the door on an airplane midflight. like they do sometimes in the movies. sucking the wind out of my lungs, dragging my hair violently over my face, pulling on me so hard i needed to hang on to rough upholstery to avoid been yanked into the void. it sounded like you were saying my name backwards but you weren't. maybe you'd recorded it backwards, and practiced saying it that way over and over again until you got the beat right, until you got the counterintuitive breathing right, until you knew my secret self both ways. all ways. always.
anyway, this note is just to say, i didn't like waking up with your dream-shouting for me echoing in my ears only to find you were not beside me where my dream promised you would be. so why don't you just tell me what you were trying to say, right now, in the light of consciousness and day? if it's so important. if you must try so hard.
all my everything,
~c
i woke up with the words, "stop shouting," mummering from my lips and my hand patting the part of the bed where you'd been only moments before - at least as i dreamed it. as i dreamed streamers of sparrows drifting past the bedroom windows, as i dreamed flickering dawnlight through ragged earthtone wings, shadows over our faces slack with lovemaking, through your voice calling for me down a long hallway, or over the high frequency flightbeats against glass.
it was weird, and i should have known it was a dream, because while your face was above me, lost in our passion, i could hear you were yelling for me from some distant dreamplace of your own. a place i know pretty well as i've been there too. i've hung around in the coppery dusk and watched portals throb open and swell closed and the parades of memories and fantasies striding by; alternately ignoring me and pursuing me as packs of wild dogs down alley ways. they aren't vicious, just hungry, but they frighten me anyway.
you know your voice carries subsonically. it sounded like that whooshing noise you get when you open the door on an airplane midflight. like they do sometimes in the movies. sucking the wind out of my lungs, dragging my hair violently over my face, pulling on me so hard i needed to hang on to rough upholstery to avoid been yanked into the void. it sounded like you were saying my name backwards but you weren't. maybe you'd recorded it backwards, and practiced saying it that way over and over again until you got the beat right, until you got the counterintuitive breathing right, until you knew my secret self both ways. all ways. always.
anyway, this note is just to say, i didn't like waking up with your dream-shouting for me echoing in my ears only to find you were not beside me where my dream promised you would be. so why don't you just tell me what you were trying to say, right now, in the light of consciousness and day? if it's so important. if you must try so hard.
all my everything,
~c
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