I'm at a music concert. A huge crowd of people is pressed up to the stage, where an animated young woman is singing. I'm holding a tube of toothpaste and my black purse/wallet. I don't want these things in my hands, so I ask someone to put them in their backpack for a while, which they do. As a mass, the crowd of people looks grey, as if everyone is wearing only black & white. Suddenly I'm holding onto a big rope-swing. I swing over the crowd, just above their heads. Now the crowd turns into a big, grey, king-sized bed, and the auditorium is now just a big bedroom. I don't have the swing in my hands anymore, but I decide to jump off the bed. I'm at the head of it and take one huge leap, bouncing off the foot of it. This propels me into the air. I almost hit the ceiling, and then I land on the thickly-carpeted floor. It was a fun jump, almost in slow motion. I realize that I can do whatever I want to do. I get back on the bed and jump again. This time when I jump off the foot of the mattress, I sail forward and upwards, way across the room to the opposite wall. It feels as though I'm defying gravity. It was all so smooth, slow and graceful. There are others in the room who were watching me, and I know they're impressed. Now I'm standing on the floor, and I have a glimpse of lucidity, for I believe that I am capable of doing almost anything. I begin to jump up and down, and gravity isn't quite exerting its normal force on me. I float. Others are watching.
tangled layers of sexuality
I get back on the bed. I look down at the floor and see __?__ (beautiful Asian male from Swat) stretched out on the floor next to the bed. I tell him that I know him, and that his name is -- all of a sudden I can't remember his name. He starts to sound it out for me: "Yyyy...". "Yu!?" I say, even though I know that's not his name. As he sounds out the "yyy" sound, his mouth is stretched open, and I can see his teeth. They look like little kid's teeth, huge, white and clean, with rounded corners. There are wide spaces inbetween them. Phoebe is on my left. I hop down to the floor with what's-his-name and stretch out on the carpet. I notice that Maureen and Don are in the corner almost having sex. I only look for a second because I don't want them to see that I'm watching them. I continue to talk to my young friends. I try to discern if they have noticed the couple in the corner, but they haven't seemed to. I look over at Maureen and Don again. They seem oblivious to us, since they're so wrapped up in their own lust. Each is half-clothed, their exposed tan & pink skin shiny with sweat. They roll around together. I see Maureen on top of Don. Then she rolls off and slides a leg up. I see Don's hand between her large thighs, and he seems to manipulating a dildo. A little later, Maureen has gotten up. I hear some commotion in the next room, so I go to check it out. There's a set of big windows on one wall, with a small counter under them. I lean on the counter and look out the windows. We're high up, on a top floor of some apartment building. I look down and see that many people are sticking their heads out to look down. There's also a balcony one level down from us, and a crowd is on it, many people practically hanging off the ledge to see the ground below. I look down and see Maureen's body far below on the sidewalk. She's naked and her body looks pale. She's entwined with the body of a black boy, who also looks dead. She must've fallen or jumped from this level. I get the impression she was going for the black boy (in lust or love). Some apartment levels have planks extending from their windows, and people are standing on them to see the sight below. Don comes up to me from behind. He asks me what's going on. I tell him to look down at the street. He's trying, but from his perspective, the balcony blocks his view of Maureen. Then he moves his head and sees her. Suddenly I'm naked, leaning my elbows on the countertop. Don is now a composite of several men I know, and he's also naked. I feel sexy and stimulated. He slides his penis into me. It feels good. We begin to rock together in rhythm. I realize this is also the perfect position for me to also masturbate to get full pleasure. I reach around front, between my legs to touch my clit. Then he stops for some reason, even though I want him to go on. Now I'm back in the other room, talking to a man who is a combination of E., D. and S.. He asks me if I remember him ever "approaching me". I say I don't. He looks relieved but then asks me if I have any recollection of the time, years ago, in the restaurant. I say no at first, but then it sounds very familiar. I have a quick visual flash of me sitting across a table from him, with his feet between my legs or something. Then I have a memory of his denial/defensiveness to my protests. I tell him I do remember, only slightly. He tells me he talked to someone about that incident the day after it happened, and they told him that that was one of the worst things he could've done for me. They said it would have a lasting, upsetting effect on me. I'm surprised because I had forgotten it until now. Did it really affect me? I ask him to tell me what really happened because I don't really know how accurate my hazy glimpse of a memory is. He won't tell me. I beg him to, but he refuses. Suddenly he's in a big sleeping bag sac that's shaped like a small playhouse, all zipped up. He's protected inside and won't talk to me. I want to reach him to make him tell me, so I tear through the bag, ripping the fabric with my hands. It gets down to another layer of batting, which I also tear through. That only reveals a thick layer of insulation (like the pink stuff in the walls of a house). I rip it apart, wondering if it will hurt the skin of my hands. Finally I make a breakthrough. All I see inside is my green bathroom bag, filled with all my daily toiletries. I pull it out, for I don't want it inside the bag with him. Then I'm wandering around the house alone. I feel turned-on, and I want to come. I'm looking around for a book of erotica or something. I'm now in a big room that's supposedly Mom's bedroom. I know I can find something here. There's a huge, tall bed/dresser. It has a mattress on top and big drawers on the side. I pull one of the drawers out and peer inside. I only see junk, papers and clothing in this huge drawer, not the kind of book/mag I'm looking for. Phoebe's now in the room with me. I ask her to help me look. We pull out the next drawer, but it's just filled with the same sort of stuff. I look around the room, wondering if she has any '70s porn hidden away somewhere. I want to find it.
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