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 -