Damn, I Need a Patch For This
Back in the day, my He-Could-Get-It List was the equivalent to a gold leaf I.O.U. The power of my mind, and the reach of my voice, made it so. It was never intended to be so precise, but if I even played and said, “he could get it,” as long as they weren’t public figures, they did indeed get it. I never planned it to be that way, just kinda how it went down. Like my imagination would start plotting and the perfect arrangement for the ep to be swung would line itself up like sight on a target. Just like that, he was taken down, a hunter and her prey. This sounds all Black Widow Spiderwoman-ish. The intention was never as vicious and the details were never gory. I promise.
But that was a different period in my life. Now I’m trying this new approach. And in doing so, I’m very careful about even thinking my way through a sexual fantasy. No need to stir any unnecessary witches brew and have to return to stepping over the bodies on the Welcome Mat. My conscious mind has accepted it, but some very key "parts" are being overlooked, and I think they’re leading a coup against me by night.
So, last night’s dream featured me being rescued from a cat I’ve never looked twice at. He’s always been more like...the makings of a good friend/brother type cat. I love him, appreciate him, even miss him since I don’t see him much anymore. Some trouble broke out where we were, in the dream, and he picked me up like his daughter (weird) and I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on for the ride. My head burrowed in his neck for safety and comfort. Our faces brushed against each other and we stopped cheek to cheek, mouths hovering close in an almost-kiss. We never took it there in the dream but I certainly woke up feeling a little like “well dayum...”
Unbeknownst to me, where I was BS’n in my own dream and not acting on the simmering attraction, I was the lead in a male friend’s dream. Where I woke up from my own with all kinds of unresolved sexual tension (tense from not actually having sex), I was face down, ass up in my boy’s dream. Silver heels sparkling in the sunlight and getting my public displays of...uhhh...grown up affection on. The vivid details from his dream only made me relive the tension I had just earlier shaken off to get through my day. There I sat, reading myself into a tizzy, reeling from the feeling of sitting--literally--on the SERIOUS desire to have my toes curled and sing Negro Spirituals.
It was A LOT easier when I was busy speaking things into reality. Now I’m trying to ensure that I release this...uhhhhh...pressure, before I run up on said friend who cast me as lead in his dream. Cuz I don’t want it to be as easy as “he can get it” anymore.
Lawd, Lawd, Lawd, change is hard!
Watch me move.