While
The Dream Cards were based on many people's major dream symbols and are
designed for gaining meaning from your dreams, they also work effectively in
helping you find inner wisdom about your own life issues. People use these
Cards for daily meditation by choosing at random a Card from anywhere in the
deck and using it as a focus for what to expect during that day.
|
Dream Cycles by Dusty
Bunker (Author)
Dream
cycles offers a new and exciting approach to dream interpretation. The
premise is that dreams come from an inner source full of symbolism. Using the
nine basic cycles in your life that are determined from your birthday, you
can open your dreams and read them in the full context of the events in your
life.
|
Dreamwork by Jeremy
Taylor, D.Min.
on
dreams, myth and social change
|
We
spend (or should spend) eight hours out of every twenty-four sleeping. Sleep
is the time for our unconscious to be most active. For those seeking a sacred
connection, but unable to let go of their conscious selves in
meditation, Sacred Sleep proves a useful and informative book.
|
One Sunday morning, when I was
four years old, I excitedly said to my family at the breakfast table,
"Last night, I flew all the way to the bottom of the stairs, and I
didn't even hurt myself."
"Ohh,"
they laughed. "That was just a dream."
Just a
dream, I thought sadly and, taking my cue from them, neglected my dreams for
the next twenty years. Fortunately, before I reached thirty, my dreaming self
woke me up. I have spent the rest of my life trying to recapture and
understand the magic of that early dream, somewhat successfully.
|
Dreams That Come True: Their Psychic
and Transforming Powers Mass Market
Paperback – December 30, 1989
by David
Ryback Ph.D. (Author)
|
(Used) Tanous,
Alex and Gray, Timothy, Bantam Books, 1990. Your dreams can light the way to
positive changes in your life... Have you ever dreamed you were
falling...flying...floating...fishing? Have you ever wondered if a particular
dream was a warning, a premonition, even an out-of-body experience? Now Dr.
Alex Tanous, one of America's most respected psychics, reveals the powerful
workshop techniques he's employed to help thousands remember, analyze, and
use their dreams to: reveal valuable information confront and conquer
repressed feelings raise self-esteem solve personal problems release untapped
psychic and spiritual energy reduce stress and susceptibility to disease
uncover new reserves of love and courage Fascinating, clear, and easy to
follow, Dr. Tanous' methods are illustrated through dream examples that were
obtained firsthand in workshops, interviews, and therapy sessions. These
dreams are presented in a series of workshop exercises designed to increase
your ability to interpret your own dreams. DREAMS ,SYMBOLS & PSYCHIC
POWER is an amazing guide to dream exploration that lets you harness the
miracle of dreams..to communicate more directly with your subconscious, to
free your psychic abilities, and to promote happiness and peace of mind.
|
by Jess
Stearn
|
We dream always
about ourselves, and a dream is really nothing more than a stage presentation
in which no costs are spared – the actors and the properties and the theatre
with only one person in the audience, the dreamer himself. In the dream, all
ones different personalities, possessions, hopes and fears, are symbolized in
one way or another in a fictitious setting, and it is the business of dream
interpretation to find out what this nightly play – be it comedy, tragedy or
farce – means to the dreamer
|
Inner Guides Visions Dreams and Dr.
Einstein: A Field Guide to Inner Resources. Paperback – July 16, 2011 by Hal
Zina Bennett PhD
Description
Covers
spirit guides, dreams as vision quests, divination, shamanism, and more.
Interweaves the author's own life experiences, thought-provoking research and
quotes, and clearly written self-help material. This book has already won the
hearts of thousands of readers. (Reprint originally published by Celestial
Arts/Ten Speed Press).
|
EXCERPT: 1. WHAT COMES TO YOU?
What
are your associations in relation to the dream?
What
comes to mind as you think about the dream?
Or
pick a part of the dream. What comes to you in relation to that?
|
Living
Your Dreams by Gayle Delaney
Your mind works actively every night reviewing what you learned the day before, working out new points of view and solutions to the problems you face.
To
fully harvest all that mental labor however, one must learn the language of
dreams. Once you learn to put into words the visual images of your
dreams, your waking mind is much quicker at catching on to the parallels in
your waking situation. By example, and through discussion of the
Dream Interview Method, Dr. Gayle Delaney will help you get to the very
personal, very practical meanings and solutions your dreams offer.
Dr. Delaney does not focus
on the paranormal, new age, and dogmatic or superstitious dimensions of
dreaming. The focus of the Dream Interview Method is on using the products of
our sleeping brain to improve our insight and abilities to assess and solve
life’s personal, professional, and creative issues.
Living Your Dreams: The Classic
Bestseller on Becoming Your Own Dream Expert Paperback – October 18,
1996 by Gayle
M. Delaney
|
Hillman
wrote this book in the mid-seventies, and it is surprising to me how little
effect it seems to have had on the various schools of dream interpretation.
Perhaps this is because Hillman's "underworld" is an ambiguous,
sometimes frightening place, a place where each psyche is rooted into the
Beyond, and where daytime morality has no dominion. According to the author,
the underworld and its dreams contribute to the making of Soul, and are not
to be used as helps to fix up our daytime life. To do so is an act of
exploitation. This clearly is at odds with our culture's fixation on mining
one's dreams for images, ideas, and information that can help us be more
productive and functional players in the status quo world we inhabit during
waking hours.
Hillman
carefully develops his ideas through looking at the work of Freud, Jung, and
other twentieth century dream workers. He winnows out the wheat from the
chaff, and uses the wheat to thrust dream interpretation forward, and farther
away from the safe, cozy realm the ego would so much like to stay wrapped up
in. One gets the feeling reading this book that safety does not a strong soul
make.
Being
an inveterate "miner" of dreams myself, I was at first rather
resistant to Hillman's thesis. Eventually, though, I came around to his point
of view (with reservations), mainly because I realized that dreams and
soulwork are very much like art. Just as art should not always be made for
any practical "daytime" use, so with our souls and dream images.
However,
this opens a question. For thousands of years, shamans have traveled into the
underworld to bring back energy for healing individuals and their
communities. They act as conduits for energies traveling up from the
Otherworld so that this world can be "seeded" and keep evolving. Is
this, too, an act of exploitation? I don't think so. But I do think, after
reading this book, that we should be aware of, and careful about, how we use
the images and teachings that come to us, unbidden, as we sleep.
What I did find
both fascinating and helpful was his insistence that most dream analysis is
an exercise of the ego. We tend to impose our "dayworld"
preoccupations and interests on our dreams, and this, he suggests, is a
violence. Dreams are not symbolic recapitulations of what goes on in
our waking life. They are underworldly (from the viewpoint of death/the
dead) commentaries on or critiques of our waking life. The question is
not, "How can understanding my dreams help me to achieve my goals?"
so much as, "What does my dream-self think of my goals?"
"Therapy, or
analysis, is not only something that analysts do to patients; it is a process
that goes on intermittently in our individual soul-searching, our attempts at
understanding our complexities, the critical attacks, prescriptions, and
encouragements we give ourselves. We are all in therapy all the time insofar
as we are involved in soul-making."
- James
Hillman, Re-visioning
Psychology
|
DREAMS REFLECT YOUR WAKING LIFE.
BETTY'S "THE DREAM
BOOK: SYMBOLS FOR SELF UNDERSTANDING" HELPS YOU DECIPHER YOUR VITAL MESSAGES
|
Psychoanalyst Jill
Morris offers case studies and detailed guidelines to help the reader utilize
"dreamwork" to solve problems, enhance creativity, resolve inner
conflicts, learn new skills, and receive intensely pleasurable experiences.
Recognize and
interpret specific dream images and symbols
Keep a dream
journal and record the progress of self-discovery
Uncover the hidden
meanings of dreams
Turn nightmares
into sources of power
Share dreams with
a partner for enhanced intimacy and understanding
From
the Inside Flap
Dreams
are the ultimate personal creation -- a vast storehouse of insight,
information, and power. In this hands-on workbook, psychoanalyst Jill Morris
draws on fundamental historical, scientific, and psychological theories to
offer detailed instructions on how you can open the door to your inner self
and make the most of your dreams. You'll learn how to:
--
Draw on dreams to solve problems, enhance creativity, resolve inner
conflicts, master new skills, and discover intensely pleasurable experiences.
--
Recognize and interpret specific dream images and symbols.
--
Keep a dream journal and record the progress of self-discovery.
--
Use free association to uncover hidden meanings in your dreams.
--
Turn nightmares into sources of power, confront your worst fears, and
overcome them.
--
Share your dreams with a partner for enhanced intimacy and understanding.
--
Control the form and content of your dreams, make them end happily, and make
them come true. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition
of this title.
|
|
Thursday, December 8, 2016
Dream Workshop Booklist-Links-Videos
Labels:
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dreams,
dreamwork,
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short stories
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
Living Your Dreams, Online Workshops Intensive
Greetings,
We
hope that you and your family are doing well.
I am
reaching out to you to let you know that I have decided to forego our upcoming
I Ching Workshop Series for December 18, 2016 thru Jan. 22, 2016.
Instead
what I will be offering two comprehensive Dream Workshop Intensive. Each will
last 2 hours so bring your snacks and something to drink. I'm scheduling 2 so we can take into account
time zones, etc.
If
this goes well, and folks would like to continue, then we can schedule another
Living Your Dreams Workshop Intensive.
If you
write your dreams down, bring your dream journal, if not, write down at least
one that you remember and bring that one.
Dreams
are the soul's steps into the multidimensional realms of reality, without our
physicality, which cannot do it as easily, while we are awake. We meet dream
friends, partners, animals, other worlds and sometimes enemies in these many
dimensions.
This
workshop will facilitate an awareness of what dreams are really telling us.
Feel free to come out and share them, especially those that repeat and those
that you just cannot seem to understand.
This workshop will focus on techniques to
remember and understand dreams.
We will discuss OBE (Out of Body Experiences)
and Recurring Dreams.
NOTE: DREAMS ARE MIRRORS. DREAM WORKSHOPS ARE SAFE SPACE.
BE RESPECTFUL.
Living
Your Dreams Workshop
Date:
December 18, 2016
Time:
2-4 PM
Time:
7-9PM
Location:Online www.zoom.us
Love
Offering: $20 via PayPal (nanabaakan@gmail.com)
Facilitated
by Nana Baakan Agyiriwah
Blog: Nana Baakan, Metaphysician
Journeys From Dreams
Living Your Dreams Workshop Booklist
http://journeysfromdreams.blogspot.com/2016/12/dream-workshop-booklist-links-videos.html
How The Remote Senoi Tribes Use Dreams for Personal Growth
Friday, October 28, 2016
Hillary Clinton's Townhall Meeting - 2 Days to Hydrate
So I am at a town
hall meeting in this huge Black Church. We are in the basement in the meeting
hall. The building is one of those old
historical churches, dating back at least a hundred years. The architecture is
beautiful and the building is filled with old Victorian furniture. High
ceilings steep winding stairs take us down to the basement meeting all. I am
upstairs in what could be called the mezzanine area and they have a huge wide
screen television playing a video of the announcement that they have
constructed a Hillary Clinton statue, that will travel the world hitting 500
cities in celebration of her victory in becoming the President of the United
States. The first woman to ever do so.
All I can do is
shake my head at the mad hysteria that is going on over this election and the
very idea that they already have the statue ready to go tells me that she has
already been "selected" to be the next President of the United
States. But who listens to me???
I am upstairs
watching the video screen. The building is so huge and spacious that I can see
the video screen from where I am without obstruction to my view. The meeting is
taking place downstairs and you can hear everything from where I am sitting
with a long time friend of mine, RSR. (I won't reveal his name cause he may
watch this video, LOL) But I do believe he is a Hillary Supporter. It's a few
days after my birthday and as usual, he has forgotten it but he has given me
plenty of little gifts to make up for lost time. So while they are down stairs
cheering the statue that is about to travel to 500 cities around the globe
after Hillary is "selected" I am standing at a table and going
through the gifts he brought me, all cute little things. Cards, Flowers, wall
hangings, etc.
"Oh wow, I love
presents!!" I exclaim as I open up one box after the other.
"I also brought
you some children." He says, jokingly.
"Um
Children??!! At my age, I don't think I need any children." I say
definitively. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but at 65, I certainly didn't
need no children. He was just kidding and showed me that he brought me
something the grandchildren can play with. It was an ensemble of materials the
children can use for their drawing since they both seem to love to draw.
We both laugh.
"Well, thank
you so much, that was really, really sweet of you to buy me all these gifts. I
forgive you for being a few days late after my birthday."
I pack everything up
and get it ready for the drive home after we leave the Church.
We sit down and
during the whole time he has his arm around my shoulder like old times. It
feels comfy so I don't complain.
From where we are
seated we can hear everything. The acoustics in this building are amazing!
After the video ends
the people begin to discuss their anticipation over having Hillary as the next
president. The discussion gets really lively and everyone seems to be cheerful
and excited about the prospect.
Then I hear a voice
above the crowd speak out.
"I was
dehydrated once!" a woman says.
The meeting hall
gets really quiet. I was like yeah! Somebody's gonna tell the truth for once in
they life.
There are two
ministers, or deacons who are officiating at this meeting. It is rather laid
back as far as I can tell because they didn't go through the usual praying and
laying on of hands, more like a social gathering more than anything else. And
of course, as you will find in most Black Churches there are mostly women in
attendance. The ministers are dressed in their Sunday best and of course they
are males!! But I digress.
Back to the silence
that fell over the attendees when she exclaimed, "I was dehydrated
once!"
It blurted out of
her mouth so quickly, I don't think she even realized she said that.
One of the
Deacons/ministers responds.
"Really? What
happened and how did that go for you?"
"Well, I was
fine, it took me 2 days……. I mean a half hour to recover. But I was fine."
I guess I am mostly
proactive in my dreams and my dreams stories cause I shot up out of my seat and
surprised my friend by my reaction.
"Did you hear
her, did you hear her? First she says 2 days, then she quickly backs it up by
saying a half hour! That's ridiculous! And she in the Church telling that big
fat lie. I am going down there. I am gonna find that woman, I bet you I know who
said that. I am gonna get one of them bibles and make her swear on it. You just
watch me!"
In a flash, I am
down them steps to find that woman. I could tell where she was probably located
due to the way the sound traveled up through the mezzanine, she was probably
right beneath us. The steps are wide and a lot of them too, but I was gonna get
down there and confront her before they change the subject, cause I heard that.
When I get down
there I say loudly.
"So, who was it
that said she was dehydrated once and recovered in a half hour???"
The silence returned
to the meeting attendees. You could hear a pin drop. Nobody wanted to admit it
and nobody wanted to point out the person who said it.
The people were
sitting in chairs, in no particular order, lining the walls and in some were in
what appeared to be a doorway to another room. You know how churches are they
have doorways, and kitchens and after school programs and all kinds of stuff
going on in those basements. So use your imagination.
I see three well
used bibles, each at different locations around the meeting hall, none of them
are in anyone's hands, they are on tables, small tables, like they are resting
there, just in case they are needed to be used.
"Okay, y'all,
you are in a church and you know you better be right in here." I am using
their own dogma now and I am in high gear.
"Give me one of
those bibles…. I want that person who said they recovered in a half hour to put
their hands straight here on this bible and say it again, that they recovered
from dehydration in a half hour!!! Come on now, we in church, you supposed be
on your best behavior when you are in Church!!"
I could feel my
friend watching me over the banister of the mezzanine but he was NOT gonna come
down there, not at all! Just let me handle it.
Nobody would move,
and it was getting even more and more quiet down there.
"Awwww come on
y'all, if it's the truth, and if you did recover in a half hour, you shouldn't
have any trouble admitting it and swearing on this bible right here."
I don't even believe
in that Bible, but I know they do, or they are supposed to believe in it, and
if they are telling the truth, they would have no trouble swearing on it.
"I'm
waiting……!!!"
Finally, a somewhat
elderly woman, maybe 65 or so, pushes a young teenage girl out to put her hand
on the Bible for her.
I am shocked!!
"Now how in the
world are you gonna push that young girl out to swear for you when you are the
one who said it?
Now you done
committed two sins (I don't believe in sin, but they do so it will work here)!
One for telling that lie and the other for making someone stand in for you for
telling that lie. Supposed you dropped dead right here and now, are you gonna
stand before God and say your granddaughter did it?? Well, you are in God's
House (I don't believe God needs a house) and you are doing that right now and
what do you think God is gonna think about you??? Or any of y'all who let her do that.??"
I shake my head at
all these self righteous Hillary supporters. They sit here and allow themselves
to go along with a lie and laugh and be cheerful about it. It don't make no
sense.
As I turn to go back
up the stairs, one of the deacons who left the area during my tirade, returns
with a tall glass of liquor for the lady who just went through the ordeal.
"Here's a
little drink for your trouble." he says. "It's a fine brandy that I
am sure you will enjoy."
I am really shaking
my head now, I can't believe it! She lied, she tried to get her granddaughter
to stand in for her and then she is rewarded, by the minister with a tall glass
of the finest brandy!!!!!!!
We pass each other,
and I am outdone, and still shaking my head, how in the world, in the so called
Lord's house, can these people carry on like this. Unbelievable.
When I get back up
to the mezzanine my friend welcomes me with open arms and says
"Don't worry
about it, it ain't that deep."
I just start shaking my head at him too.
I really wish it
were true, that it really wasn't that deep, but unfortunately it is.
People have been literally brainwashed
and rewarded for being so. It's a sad state of affairs indeed.
She’s not president yet! Hillary Clinton gets monument in Albania
(VIDEO)
This took place,
June, 2016
BUT CHECK OUT THE VIEW COUNT UNDER THIS VIDEO, SMDH
US
presidential elections are still months away, but a city in Albania has already
erected a monument to Hillary Clinton. Another Albanian city already has a
statue of George W. Bush, while Bill Clinton was honored by a statue in
Albanian-held Kosovo.
A bust
of Hillary Clinton was unveiled Thursday in Sarandë, a tourist town of some
20,000 people in southern Albania. The monument is intended to represent
Clinton “as a woman in politics, as a
representative of the old Albania-US friendship, for her contribution to the
Albanian nation in different historical moments,” the city
authorities said, according to AP.
The
monument was a way of thanking the “American
people and government for what they have done for the Albanian people and
nation,” said Florjana Koka, mayor of Sarandë, specifically citing
Clinton’s involvement with the Albanian community in the US, and her advocacy
on behalf of ethnic Albanians in the Serbian province of Kosovo.
“Clinton gives us the model of women in politics,
diplomacy and governing at the most democratic country in the world,”said
Koka.
NATO
bombed the then-Yugoslavia for 78 days in 1999, claiming the Yugoslav security
forces were committing “genocide” against
the Albanians in Kosovo. Up to 14,000 people were killed in the conflict. In
June 1999, the province was occupied by a NATO-dominated peacekeeping force and
turned over to ethnic Albanian separatists, who declared independence from
Serbia in 2008. One political faction continues to advocate the establishment
of what they call “Natural Albania,” to
include more Serbian territory as well as parts of Greece, Montenegro and
Macedonia.
“Albanians wherever they are, will be grateful to the
Clinton family and the American people,” said Agim Shahini, leader
of the Business Alliance of Kosovo, who was at the ceremony in Sarandë.
The
monument features Clinton’s signature, in cursive relief, and a dedication from
the “Diplomatic Mission Peace and
Prosperity,” an Albanian-centered international lobbying
organization created by former US diplomat Richard Holbrooke in the late 1990s.
This is
not the first time the Albanians have honored the Clintons. A gilded statue of
Bill Clinton, dedicated in November 2009, overlooks the Bill Clinton Boulevard
in Pristina, the capital of Kosovo.
Former
US President George W. Bush also has a statue; the monument in Fushë-Krujë, in
Albania proper, was erected in 2011 to mark his 2007 visit.
Statues
to US presidents can be found in many corners of the world. Rutherford B. Hayes
(1877-81) is popular in Paraguay. Abraham Lincoln (1861-65) has multiple
monuments in Mexico and one in Cuba. A statue of Harry Truman (1945-53) is a
popular spot in Athens, Greece, while Dwight Eisenhower (1953-61) stands guard
outside the US Embassy in London. There is even a fire-spewing statue of
President Barack Obama in China – and a controversial monument to Obama as a
boy in Jakarta, Indonesia, erected in 2010.
Clinton’s
statue in Sarandë may well be the first and only monument to a US presidential
candidate, however.
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Saturday, August 27, 2016
A Coming of Age
NB
Commentary: I dream stories. When I first started documenting my dreams almost
40 years ago, they were little snippets. Some of them were really strange, but
I wrote them down anyway. I started reading a lot of books on dreams and their
interpretation. I would spend time interpreting my dreams and then I branched
out to interpret the dreams of others.
Little
by little the dreams evolved. I remember dreaming stories every once in a while
back then. I need to pull out those old stories and enter them into this blog.
This
blog contains dream stories but includes various dream stories that took me to
the internet to look people, places and things up. I sometimes get information
in my dreams that make me wonder how true it is, and I am quite surprised to
find correlations and even people whose names come to me in dreams, on the
internet somewhere. In waking life, I never forget a face, so too in the dream
state, I see faces clear and distinctly, even if they are strangers, and may
even cross paths with them some time in the future. I once met a man at
the fish market. He asked me if he could help me, and when I looked up I
recognized him from my dream. I impulsively said to him, "You were in my
dream!" and he responded, "I didn't do it!" and we both laughed.
I am a
writer, so I guess my dreams are my muse. They truly inspire me to write. And
yes, the dialogue and elements are all there in the dream..
Reader
Alert: This dream is a little erotic and a little dark. Happy reading and leave
your comments below. And remember, some stories never make the headlines.
Thanks.
A COMING OF AGE
At the
age of 13, he didn't seem to be too assuming. A gentle soul, sorta of
dorky looking and somewhat non assuming.
He
lived down the hall from my apartment with his mother. I don't recall any other
siblings. But it appeared that he and his mother were very close.
He had
great manners. The kind of kid that would say good morning and good evening. A
rare kid in this day and age. So attending his funeral was heart
wrenching. But knowing why he lie there cold and dead and about to be
14yrs of age was even more disconcerting.
He's
dressed nicely. They did a great job so there could be an open casket. All the
family who could be here is here. Some from far away. Some may have had the
same DNA. I wonder if I see signs of guilt. Is he there because of all of
us.
Those
who knew and the others who wondered, maybe even asked but never said, and
never tried to stop him or it.
I
tried. I think I can say I really tried. Besides I wasn't family. I really
didn't know the family except for his mom. She was nice. She was pretty too. He
didn't carry her genes though. She was bright and petite. A little short. She
was so witty. She would make me smile no matter how many times I wanted to cry.
I wondered if she knew. Sometimes I would blame her. It had to be her
fault. She was the parent and parents are responsible for their children.
Can that, "it takes a village. " If the child comes out the house
wrong what can the village do. I am not gonna swim in a pool of guilt
Fuck that. His deeds are not my fault. I
was the fuckin victim! I didn't ask for it! Fuck, he wasn't raised right. Fuck
that!
The
funeral is taking too long and I am feeling smothered by this pretend grief.
They all knew and nobody said anything and nobody stopped him. And now these
hypocrites want to mourn and say "Sorry for your loss."
Fuck
that too. What about my loss?
I wish
I could lose this guilt, bury it with him. Bury it and the memories. Like what
happened the last time we were together. My mouth waters when I think about our
last encounter. His round body, his chunky frame and squinty eyes. He was
taller than me, maybe 6 inches. Kinda tall for a 13 year old.
I feel
the usual erotic sensation thru my body. But let me focus on his smile and his
soft voice..... and his....
Several months ago he came to see me.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"How's
the morning treating you."
"Well,
and you?"
"Just
fine."
"What
are you doing. Can I give you a hand."
"No,
I think I got it. I just need to put this on the top shelf."
"Okay.
I will stand here. I wouldn't want you to fall."
"Okay,
that's fine."
He
stands really close to me as if he wanted to catch me in case I fell. I am
dressed in a loose top, and shorts for my casual Saturday morning chores. I am standing on a step ladder and as I
reach up, I feel a warm wet mouth on my left boob. What the fuck? What's
happening? The sounds of suckling wet mouth move thru the room, thru the air, and
thru my body.
Damn, nobody ever suck my tit like that, I think to myself. His mom must have breast
fed him for a while.
Damn!
What am I thinking? What's happening? Why is he suckling on my breast and why
oh why am I enjoying this shit!
What's
wrong with my body? What happened to my reflexes. Why ain't I slapping the shit
out of this brazen fool who had the nerve to turn me inside out and upside
down.
Why does this feel so damned good?
Shouldn't
I feel ashamed?
What's wrong with me?
Why are my knees weak?
They
say that thoughts move faster than the speed of light. For sure I have just
proved it. Lightening speed, my thoughts could have only taken 10 seconds. Ten
seconds that seemed like an eternity.
I
think I quickly jumped down but I'm not sure how quickly. But I had to
end this cause somewhere on this planet this ain't right!
"Um,
honey, what are you doing?"
I
barely mumble.
He
doesn't respond.
He
just walks away. Far away down the hall to his mother's apartment, just a few
doors down.
I slump back in my chair an wonder "What the fuck just happened?"
Sometime
later, I'm standing outside my door fumbling with my key. As I struggle to get
my key out of my purse he walks up behind me. Then he penetrates me. In a flash
he is having sex with me right there in the hallway. Maybe I should have worn a
different kind of panties under my skirt. Maybe the other time, I should have
worn a bra. But if I had??
Days
go by. I am trying to understand why I let him have sex with me right there in
the hallway... I haven't seen him, I think it best to avoid him so I stealthily
leave the building each day I go to and from work. But, but, I'm not sure why I don't
feel raped. Why don't I feel violated? Why did I enjoy it, why did I let him
penetrate me, right there in the hallway? I must be sick. I have to be sick.
What else can I be but sick that I wanted it to happen again, and again.
I am
so torn.
I have gone crazy.
A few
more days go by. As I get closer to my door, he spots me from his. He runs down
the ever so seemingly long hallway from his mom's apartment, just a few doors down. I quickly enter my
apartment and shut the door. He grabs the door handle and attempts to push the
door open but he is not fast enough. He knocks on my door. I don't respond. I
pretend I am not there. He is peering thru my venetian blinds, I think he sees
me. I am frozen. I can't move. I wonder, can he really see me. I am shaking. He
knocks gently at the window of my apartment. It is right next to the door. I am
still frozen and he is still knocking. He knocks a little harder, then harder,
then loudly. I am still frozen.
"Why
won't you open the door!" he yells.
"I
know you are in there, open the door, let me in. I want to see you. I want to
talk to you."
I
can't. I am frozen. I can't. I just can't. I can't let him see how weak and
frozen and crazy I have become since that day.
His
mother calls him. Her voice startles both of us. He doesn't respond. He doesn't
move. He continues to peer through the blinds covering my window next to the
door of my apartment.
In a
low husky voice he says.
"I
know you are in there, and you are gonna let me in. One day, you will let me
in. I want to see you. I need to."
How
can you be frozen and seething with heat at the same time? How is that
possible? When he penetrated me, I leaned forward and I let him. I let him do
it and I enjoyed every moment of it. I didn't even care if anyone saw us. Of
course no one did and besides, who would see us just a few doors down from his
mother's apartment, down the hallway.
I
really enjoyed it. The shock, the capture, the penetration, the groaning and
the climax, all of it, I enjoyed it and it stayed in my frontal lobe every day
and every night afterwards. He took it and I gave it to him. And that day, I
lost my virginity. The virgin that says no to a teenage boy half her age. The
virgin that would never in a million years even think of being taken by a
teenage boy half her age..
I lost
my virginity that day. No, actually, I gave it away. To be honest, I threw it
away. I threw it to him with all my indiscretion and no care or shame. He could
have it. Whenever he wanted it, however he wanted it, all of it, with no
exception. All of it!!
My
thoughts are racing again. I really should be ashamed, but I am not, far from
it, I am wondering when we, well, not we, because he had always been the one to
initiate it. So, I wondered, when would he do that again. You know, initiate
penetrating me.
"I'll
be back, and you better let me in!" he says.
The
tone of his voice shocks me. He sounded so self assured and nothing like the
gentle soul that took my virginity. It was quite strange but I shrugged it off.
I am safe in my apartment, hiding from this 13 year old teenager that took me
in the hallway, just a few weeks ago. His mother comes down the hallway and
grabs him by the arm, as any mother would do to her child who appears to be
ignoring her call. He goes along with her and I wonder if she knows what he did
to me, or rather, what I let him do, for surely I could have stopped him.
I
chase these thoughts days and days and nights and nights. Finally I feel safe
enough to see him again. When I do, I will invite him in for milk and cookies. Ain't that what you give kids?? Milk and cookies?
Eventually,
I see him, but this time, I am fully clothed. I have on long pants an bra and a
long sleeve shirt and light jacket. He will not be able to suckle my breast nor
penetrate me this time. But why am I playing this game, I know that's what I
want. But I should not want that so I will focus on the milk and cookies.
When
he comes to my apartment this time, a few doors down a very long hallway full
of the expectation of what will he do, what can he do, what will he want to
do... But this time when he knocks, I open the door and let him in.
He is
nonchalant and we talk a little bit, chit chat, nothing too earth shattering. I
mean, what do we have in common? What can we talk about. I work 9-5 and he is
still in middle school. Ouch, that rings loud in my head, he is only in middle
school???!!! He's in the 8th grade, seriously, other than school and homework
what else is there to talk about?
I sit
on the floor. He sits on the floor across from me. We eat cookies and drink
milk. For some reason, I raise my knees up, towards my chest. I don't know,
maybe I wanted to be more comfortable. He eyes me. He looks directly at the
crotch of my pants. He takes a deep breath. Then he says.....
"I
know what you want me to do, but I am not going to do that today. Besides,
there's a hole in your pants. See that?" He says and points to my crotch.
WTF?
There's a hole? I didn't realize I had a hole and I didn't have on any
panties cause I thought the pants were enough. Now he is looking straight into
me and saying.
"I know what you want me to do?"
I am
more than embarrassed. I had no intention of enticing him or even insinuating
that I wanted him to "do" anything. I didn't even realize I had a
hole in my pants. I quickly draw my legs flat to the floor.
"It's
okay. I won't be doing that today, so it's okay. You can relax.
Thanks
for the milk and thanks for the cookies. See you next time."
I am
stunned, confused, mixed up and pissed. WTF! How dare he act so impudent and
then walk off!!
I sulk
for a few days after this one.
Mom
comes down, she knocks at the door. She is so sweet. She is so cute too. A
little female envy, cause I am far from as petite as she is.
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Have
you seen my son?" She asks.
Hmmmm,
that's strange, why would she ask me if I have seen him as if we are friends or
something, or like we hang out all the time or that I would know where he was.
She's his mother, shouldn't she know where he is??
"Um,
no, I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him in a while so I couldn't
say." I resentfully respond.
Of
course she could not notice my resentment nor the reason why. In my head, I am
wondering, where could he be besides with his mother or........... well, maybe
he should be in school or something like that.
"I am
really worried" she continues and frankly I am beginning not to care,
besides he was so rude the last time I did see him.
"Okay,
let's go back to your apartment and see if we can find something in his room or
in his books, maybe there's a number to a friend or something that you can
call. He could be just hanging out a little longer after school." I say,
attempting to cover my own rudeness and a little anger with a tinge of
jealousy.
We go
back to her apartment.
"Can
I get you something to drink?" she asks.
"No
thank you, I'm fine."
"Are
you sure?"
"Yes,
I am sure, don't bother yourself. I have plenty and I am just down the
hallway."
"Okay,
well, let's go to his room and see what we can find." She says invitingly.
We go
and she opens the door and there he is, lying in bed, on his back, penis erect
as he massages it. I am frozen again, staring, mouth open, breathing fast and
wondering how obvious I must be to his mother. My heart starts beating loudly
in my ears, my eyes burn as I cannot believe the magnificence that I see on
this young man. To be honest, I have never seen such a huge finely sculpture
penis like that in my whole life, not even in my porn magazines. It had a dark
purpleish hue to it and it had ridges on it, all the way up and all the way
down. Tiny little ridges that encircle it like a potter's wheel had fingered it
so that it still had the imprint from the potter's fingers. The ridges were
soft and delicate. And it solved the mystery as to why I could not get him out
of my mind or my vagina. He was rubbing it up and down, as if he were polishing
a car or a piece of fine silver. He seemed to be shaping and molding it as if
it was his favorite treasure. He was making sure it was just right.
When I
finally come to my senses, his mother is scolding him, not about jerking off,
but about staying out to late and not calling to say where he was. She also did
not rush me from his room. It was as if she didn't even notice that his huge
penis was sitting there, staring us both in the face. She didn't seem to even
notice that I was standing there, drooling.
How
many times did I replay "OMG" in my head I cannot begin to answer.
And why did she not rush me away from his room, I cannot begin to answer, and
frankly, I really didn't care.
I kind
of turn away, I think body first as my head, was still there, eyes staring. As
she continues to fuss him out, I leave and go back down the very very long
hallway to my apartment a couple of doors down. I gingerly open the door to my
apartment and sit in the chair. Actually, I think I fell into a sitting
position in the chair and I cannot remember how long I stayed there as that
scene of him massaging his penis, danced over and over and over in my head.
The
next time I saw that penis it was in me. It was in and out, gently...... Then in and out, more firmly. Then in and out of me so deeply it must have hit my soul. I am groaning and moaning. The pleasure was so exquisite I
could barely stand it. And he never seemed to tire. I am lying face down across
my bed and he is going in and out of me too many times to count. The climaxes
doubled and trippled and continued until I was raw and he never stopped. He
just kept going, in and out till I had to finally beg him to stop! Which he
did. He stopped and I caught my breath. It was over and he left to go down the
hallway to his mom's apartment, a few doors down a very, very long hallway.
The
morning paper reads...
"Mother
kills son and step father after she found them in the Jacuzzi together
having
sex"
It
continues....
A
mother arrives home from work to find her son and step father having sex in the
Jacuzzi in the master bedroom. She retrieves a gun from the bedroom dresser
drawers entered the bathroom and shoots them both dead.
"I
couldn't bare to see my son have sex with my husband. We had just gotten
married. I knew about my son's sexual prowess but I never thought he would have sex
with my husband. We had a healthy sexual relationship, me and my son.. but that
was all." The mother says.
"His
sexual prowess? Ma'am, you were aware of his sexual prowess, Ma'am. Isn't your
son just 13 years old." asked the investigator.
"What
does age have to do with it? He has been sexually active since he was 7 years
old. I showed him how to suck my breast. He does a great job of it. Well, he
used to, he can't now, obviously."
"Ma'am,
he was sexually active since 7 years old? How do you know that?"
"Because
I showed him how, that's how I know, and because he told me about the lady down
the hallway that he has been having sex with for months."
Now my
fingers are frozen holding the morning paper. I am in shock. I am implicated. I
am the lady down that long hallway a few doors down. I cannot read anymore.
What if she tells them my name. What if she tells them where I live? What if
she implicates me as a child molester and I go to jail?
"Ma'am,
are you able to tell us who that lady down the hallway is?"
"No,
I am not able to do that. He asked me not to and so I won't. He's dead now so
what difference does it make?"
"Well,
we can have her come in for questioning."
"Why
do you need to question her? He's dead. I killed him and that lying husband of
mine and she doesn't need to be in it at all."
"Well,
you said you knew her so we thought we would ask if you would be willing to
have her come in for questioning. Why did you call your husband a liar,
Ma'am?"
"A
liar? A liar? He is a liar and now he's a dead one. He never told me he was
gay! So now he's gay and dead too. Luckily Rufus our retriever saved the other
dog that was in there with them. He grab him out by his mouth because he was
about to drown in that Jacuzzi with them two, and I didn't care if he did
drown. He shouldn't have been in there with them having gay sex. How awful,
they deserved to die."
The
paper showed a faded out picture of the "step-father floating face down in
the water... obviously dead from the gunshot wounds he received. The report
said she fired 5 or 6 times and killed them both and wounded the dog.
And
now I am sitting here at the funeral for her son. The lady who lives down a
very short hallway, just a few doors down. And my feelings are going in ten
thousand different directions. And I am angry at all the hypocrites at this
funeral, who knew about his DNA. A DNA that would produce such a magnificent penis that even a straight
man and step father could not resist, not to mention me..............
The
lady who lives down a very short hallway.
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