Thursday, December 8, 2016

Dream Workshop Booklist-Links-Videos


To Register Contact Nana Baakan : nanabaakan@gmail.com
770-580-3322
REGISTER HERE




Creative Dreaming by Patricia Garfield, PhD
The Dream Cards by Strephon Kaplan-Williams
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
Dreaming the Divine: Techniques for Sacred Sleep Paperback – February 8, 2016
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.
Dreams Beyond Dreaming  Jean Campbell
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: Hidden Meanings and Secrets  Paperback – June 1, 1983 by Orion (Author)
Dreams That Come True: Their Psychic and Transforming Powers Mass Market Paperback – December 30, 1989  by David Ryback Ph.D. (Author)
Dreams: Night Language of the Soul  Paperback – May, 1987  by Phoebe McDonald 
Dreams, Symbols, and Psychic Power Mass Market Paperback – October 1, 1990  by Alex Tanous
(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.
Dreams: A Way to Listen to God Paperback – 1978  by Morton Kelsey
Edgar Cayce: The Sleeping Prophet Mass Market Paperback – October 1, 1989
How To Interpret Dreams, Omens & Fortune Telling Signs  by Fred Gettings
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
How to Interpret Dreams, Omens and Fortune Telling Signs Paperback – June 1, 1940  by Fred Gettings
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).
Let Your Body Interpret Your Dreams by Eugene T. Gendlin
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
The Modern Witch's DreambookPaperback – April, 1994 by Sara Lyddon Morrison
New Approaches to Dream Interpretation.  FODOR, Nandor.
The Dream and the Underworld Paperback– July 25, 1979  by James Hillman
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
The Dream Book: Symbols for Self Understanding Paperback – June 1, 2001 
DREAMS REFLECT YOUR WAKING LIFE.
BETTY'S "THE DREAM BOOK: SYMBOLS FOR SELF UNDERSTANDING" HELPS YOU DECIPHER YOUR VITAL MESSAGES 
The Dream Workbook: Discover the Knowledge and Power Hidden in Your Dreams  by Jill Morris
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.
Wisdom of the Heart: Working With Women's Dreams Paperback – January, 1998

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.


NOTEDREAMS 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)


WorkshopTime

Facilitated by Nana Baakan Agyiriwah

Blog: Nana Baakan, Metaphysician 
Journeys From Dreams

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.
They must be talking about Hillary's dehydration episode.
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.

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.