Test flipping thru $ in my wallet.
Perfect start/stop precision. My control is
the best I’ve had and with such little effort.
Floating wasn’t as responsive. I know I’m sleeping. I see thru touch and feel
myself in the bed.
I can play and not fear lucidity.
I remember reading a quote online talking about 99 percent of lucid dreamers
do it to have a sex dram. What a stupid thought, especially since I dream like this and can’t stop.
So why not have a sex dream right now.
I can feel my body in the room.
I know this is a dream and I can do as I please.
This girl of my manufactured dream was.. plainer than I
thought she would be.
Literally the girl of my dreams.
Even more magical and mysterious, the girl of my lucid dream
In which, I have the most control ever, and she has nothing
distinctive about her.
Still, we enthusiastically embrace with continuous and increasingly aggressive kisses.
Time loose itself as it does in dreams.
We meet intercourse with a pleasure heighted fervor. The pleaser and writhing is
Translated beyond the boundary of the dream and I feel it in physical reality.
Plunging deeper into the earthy sensuality, I become an auburn
pleasure-conducting gaseous mass.
Different notes of sensation confidently danced from me into the austral space.
My dreaming body dovetailed my sleeping body, dream acting in tandem with the physical.
I feel my hands relearn its body. I fear someone in my house seeing me.
Another gap–the most tragic.
Her mouth is a sweet whirlpool so softly wafting, floating, tugging me closer.
I pull away from her face to see how our pelvises connect. Pry my penis from its ethereal
home and awake in my bed.
I had been on such an adventure, reality felt like an odd place to be—possibly the wrong place.
I expect to return to splayed hands, sweat, and ruffled sheets.
My hands are exactly where I left them.
It was all a dream.