Sunday, July 06, 2008

Dream or Nightmare?


Let me start by saying, parents and family, bypass this post. Thank you. Loving...
I don't dream. I have wicked dark nightmares, so dark, I kept each to myself and compartmentalized them as one-of-life's-dirty-little-secrets. Recently, I dragged them out of my shame closet by writing about them and discussing them with Shrinktail. It took 8 months of shrinkdating to spill, but spill I did.

Anyhoodle...

Last night, I think I had my first hybrid. I had a thing with a guy for a while. We had a weird ass sitch. Our intimacy issues and bad timing led to disaster. Here's what happened in the dreamare:

He knocked on my door wearing a wetsuit and fins (he's not a diver). I was living in a dilapidated, massive tree house with oddly shaped large, dirty rooms and slanted floors. I had three bedrooms with mattresses on the floor, tattered posters of Journey on the walls and plastic pee cups everywhere, it was severely crack denish.

In Bedroom A, I threw him on the bed and said, "I'm giving you a God damned blowjob." After what felt like hours of fighting with his wetsuit, he was down to his boxers (white with little Ralph Lauren logos all over them, again, so not him). Once I made it to his flaccid peeny, I devoured it. He was so bored, he picked up a Mad Magazine. As he flipped through it, his giggling swelled to uncontrollable belly laughter, while his limp cock bounced around my mouth like a dying fish out of water, seriously.

I chased him around the house wailing, "I'm giving you a God damned, mother fucking, cock sucking blowjob and you will fucking like it." In two more bedrooms, I sucked myself into cheekbones, that's how hard I sucked this man's pleasure plunger. Bupkas-- nothing, nada, not an erection for days. He glared at me disdainfully, rolling his eyes, literally bored to tears.

Before waking up, the door slammed. And I was alone in the center of the tree house / crack den with two bags of frozen peas on my face.
Hence... hybrid.

21 comments:

bizQuirk said...

Sounds like you got great mileage out that hybrid. Must have been an Insight.

Jewgirl said...

Well, that's what's so odd. He never kvetched in "real time", only in my hybrid.

How's by you BQ?

DCup said...

Too much!

I think I woke up from your hybrid last night. That explains a lot.

The least he could have done was grace you with an erection.

Jewgirl said...

Ha!

Right?! A little wood would've gone a long way, baby :)

Bacon Lady said...

Off the cuff, non-professional analysis here...

Did *he* suck at talking to kitty?

wetsuit = muff diver

Just for the record, I'm willing to bet your blowjobs are WAY more interesting than Mad magazine.

John said...

I...erm...um...I.

I really hope I don't dream about frozen peas tonight thankyouverymuch!

JDC

Eebie said...

Well, your description seems to combine DalĂ­, Van Gogh, Warhol, Magritte and Mapplethorpe...so the inspiration is top drawer. Your hybrids are among the elite.

A few things I have heard/read over the ages. (Not saying they're always true but come from respectable sources.) [1] All the people in the dream are an aspect of you. (No surprise some things were not like him, how do you relate to those things?) [2] Sex is often about power, self-esteem or self-affirmation and competition (as well as fun). While many people relate these characteristics mostly to men, my observations is that they relate to all but in varying degrees. [3] It is typically a reflection of something going on in your life right now. Is there an unsatisfied desire that weighs heavy on your sense of personal power or self-esteem? (It may not be sex but as deeply personal as sex.)

Here is an example...if he is an aspect of you, then Mad Magazine is probably an expression of your coping through humor.

Just sharing thoughts...

Jewgirl said...

BaconLady: He never kvetched in "real time". Waking up from a hybrid like that shakes a broad's confidence. I need to run out and find me summit tah suck on, grrrl. ha.

PS: Love your analogy.

Jewgirl said...

Lewch, if you do, spill. every. single. word.

Jewgirl said...

Eebs: You're a genius. Spot on, kid. I appreciate the insight.

Gail said...

wow you had me at flaccid peeny... this could be a short story

Al Sensu said...

You forgot to turn your gaydar back on.

Jewgirl said...

Ha, Sensu. Nice response. Fuckin tits.

Bubs said...

Wow. Hybrid, I like that. It sounds a little more nightmarey than dreamy to me though. Your description of the treehouse caught my attention--I used to have repetitive dreams (they didn't quite rise to the fear level of nightmares, they were more anxious) about living in places with rickety stairs and balconies that were constantly in danger of collapsing.

Jewgirl said...

Agreed, it's more of a nightmare, really.

I know from repetitive nightmares. I'm sorry you've had them, too. The content is different, but they're annoying as hell, aren't they? Especially if/when you wake up feeling anxious.

How did you get rid of your nightmares?

Writeprocrastinator said...

"Once I made it to his flaccid peeny, I devoured it. He was so bored, he picked up a Mad Magazine. As he flipped through it, his giggling swelled to uncontrollable belly laughter, while his limp cock bounced around my mouth like a dying fish out of water, seriously."

What the hell???!!! You promised not to talk about our date back in '95!

Ooh, I hate you right now!

Writeprocrastinator said...

What Bacon Lady said.

Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein said...

I love how you know what a crack den looks like. Please reveal more of your sordid past to us in the future.

Jewgirl said...

HA, CORMAC. FAB.

Jewgirl said...

if I reveal everything too soon, there will be no reason to buy my book, studmonkey :)

Creepy said...

Boxers under a wet suit? Did you make him leave the flippers on, like us fellas like to make ladies leave their shoes on?

 

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