My dreams are really something of a crazy miss-mosh of what-the-hell anymore. The last month and a half–maybe even two months–has seen them just go nuts. There are all over the road, making less sense than a GOP debate. And there doesn’t seem to be any reprieve coming soon.
I wish I could say why. Well, I probably can, but to do so means going into places in my mind that I don’t like to go. Or, making admissions that I’m not ready to make. True, at the moment I’m going through some rather interesting times; my life has decided to take a couple of twists and turns I hadn’t expected for some time, and it’s playing heavy on my psyche.
Let me see if I can rope this sucker together and have it make some sense . . .
My current story is proceeding nicely. Couples Dance hit 3,350 words yesterday, and I’m getting ready to spring a hell of a surprise on my main male character–lets say, when one comes home for dinner, what they’re going to find isn’t what one would normally be served.
I have a certain detachment to the story, but then, I’m usually that way when I write erotica. I get caught up in the story, but the sex is usually not a big thing for me. It’s there, yeah, and it’s integral to the story, but I tend not to get caught up in it; I end up viewing it rather clinically.
When I was writing fetish fiction years before, I used to freak people out when I’d tell them this. I know a few writers of erotica, and once in a while they’ll come online and go, “Oh, I need to be cooled off!” ’cause they just finished a sex scene, and they’re a bit overheated.
I’m almost never like that. To me, I’m trying to get it right, and when I do that I’m so into the now of the writing that I don’t have time to get turned on by my own writing.
This story also has a very unusual genesis, because the whole thing almost instantly came to mine during a conversation I was having with a friend, a very Sexy Lady with whom I chatted a lot over the summer. During our conversation the opening scene of the story instantly flashed into my mind’s eye, and began to gestate and grow.
And now I’m writing the damn thing.
Now, last night my Sexy Lady friend was on my mind. Oh, sure, there were a lot of other things on my mind as well, but she was there for sure–you can even say I took her to bed with me. I was tired, so I was out pretty quick–
There she was, in my dreams, waiting for me.
She was laying next to me in bed, smiling. I hadn’t seen her smile in a long time, it seems. She touched me and whispered something; I never actually heard it, but I know it was comforting, because the feeling was there. She slide up next to me, pressed against me–
Just like that, she vanished. It was as if she was never there.
And then the dream became one of those where I’m always in a dark space, trying to find my way around, seemingly all alone, and even when there is light, I can’t see more than a few feet through the gloom that’s almost impossible to penetrate.
I do get this a lot, the feeling that I’m all alone in a dark space, and I can’t see where I’m going. I can’t find what I’m looking for.
It’s madding, I’m telling you.
Sexy Lady is out there, I know that. Somewhere she’s sitting, working on something. I would venture to say that she’s even thinking of me when she gets the chance.
I see her in more than my dreams. I see her in my writing, and it’s her that’s bringing this story out. In a way, she’s my muse for this story, and a number of others.
She’ll always be there.
Travel day today. Talking about great leaps into the unknown, today just might be the one where I stand at the edge of the chasm and make the move to jump . . .
Maybe I’ll see what waits for me in the light.