I've been having very strong dreams lately. They are completely nonsensical, as usual, but instead of floating idly through my dreamworld I feel as though I'm being dragged through mud like a plow hitched to a tractor.
Last night hit new levels of weird, as I started talking to people in my dream about the subject of lucid dreaming, and in my dream I was recalling another dream I'd had a few weeks ago. In particular, I was defending the real-ness factor of dreams. In the other dream I had a few weeks ago, I walked into an old, run-down farmhouse. I was touching things on broken shelves, and it absolutely felt like I was touching those things. It did not feel like a dream at all, and this startled me.
The best explanation for this is that I was probably groping the Russian lover, or something else within reach, in my sleep. Nevertheless, my dream self defended the experience to the dream audience. Which is right about the time this really butchy lesbian of exaggerated proportions came up from behind me, wrapped her arms around me, and started whispering raunchy things in my ear. My dream self shuddered and looked for a way out - I woke up.
Many people, apparently, often have hot sex dreams. This does not happen for me. However, on a few occasions, my dreams will turn lucid and I'll recognize that hey, I'm in a dream. And I remember that dreams have no limits and I can do whatever I want, and so the first thing I do is try to find some stranger to have dream sex with (must be working on all those years of teenage repression). I will spend a few minutes then running around my dream in horny circles, rejecting all the people I encounter in my dreams as not attractive enough for my fantasy romp.
Recently, however, my lucid dream self remembered that in a dream, I don't have to find things that are already there with me. I can actually conjure things up. So my horny dream self really concentrated on creating a sexy stranger out of thin air. But it was like watching Harry Potter trying to work magic at school on year number 1. Instead of sexy, anonymous-elevator-make-out-session-worthy stranger, I got...well, icky bad-touch mustache stranger. Who had no otherwise discernable redeeming qualities that might make my dream self reconsider having a go. So I was veritably furrowing my brow in this dream, putting all of my energy into creating a suitable dream sex partner, only to find that the second I made something yummy materialize for a moment, my excitement to jump his bones caused him to turn back into sketchy mustache guy. The effort was so exhausting that I gave up, and slipped out of the lucidity altogether, unsatiated.
Good thing I can wake up to the Russian lover.