Long dreams last night. I recall a subway line going through a shopping mall—as opposed to escelators—much more fun if you ask me. But I don’t recall much else. I don’t spend my showers replaying my dreams (most of the time) as I used to (most of the time).
I do recall sitting in a chair at some doctor’s office surrounded by pretty nurses. They were doing their thing and chatty and gossipy then as they were about to take my blood or whatever kind of tests were about to take place they sat to my left and right, a line of nurses on both sides interrupted only by me. Chairs were packed so closely together we were all elbow cuddling. The woman to the right of me, who reminded me of an ex, started nibbling on my ear. It felt wonderful. I sometimes think, post-Lyme disease, that I’ve lost the ability to feel so knocked over by something as simple as a tongue on the earlobe, but these rare dreams prove me wrong. She kept it up and who was I to say no? Felt damn fine. Better than any tests they might need to run. The nurse on my left looked at the one on the right as if to ask permission then started rounding me out from the other side. Next thing I know I’m ejaculating—or trying not to as some part of me recognizes I’m dreaming and doesn’t want to make a mess in my undies—but I end up (in the dream only, mind you) ejaculating all over the place while they head back to doing their chatty and gossipy thing. My god, it’s a mess now. I spend the rest of the dream (right up until the point my morning alarm shocks me out of this odd mess) trying to find something to clean the yellow, sticky, and sometimes syrupy mess, my hands sticking to everything, the sink and soap turning into something more akin to tree sap. What a fucking mess, I think to myself, I can’t even have a wet dream properly anymore!