dreams: August 9, 1998

playing with penises

I'm wrapped up in a blanket with a male. We're getting intimate. (He's a cross between R.B., M.R., and J.S. -- mainly just M.R. though.) He wants to get it on with me. I reach down and find his dick. I'm surprised and disappointed to find how little it is. It's long, skinny and floppy; it's like the penis of a young boy. I'm playing with it in one hand.
Yet I really just want to finish a piece of art that I was working on earlier. It's on a small table in front of me. My creation is made of clay. I can envision what I want the finished product to look like: a sculpture of a man and a woman in a sexual act, the whole thing no bigger than my hand. The shape is very fluid, and it rolls back and forth. The little guy has a prominent phallus, which connects him to the woman, going between her legs (but her smooth butt cheeks are actually on the front side of her body). I want to finish my incomplete design by adding the second person (the one with the penis), but M. wants me to fool around with him. So I finally oblige, fingering his little uncircumcised pee-pee. Then it's in my face, so I open my mouth and suck on it; it feels like a little noodle.

separate the belongings

NEXT, I'm getting my belongings ready for a yard sale. Phoebe decides to add some of her stuff to be sold. I ask her to please put labels on each one of her things in order to not get our stuff mixed up.

a morphing of males

NEXT, I'm in my bank. I see Mr. Gabriel. I talk to him. He's actually a professor from Swarthmore. I ask him his name (since I've forgotten). "John," he says.

- FIN -

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