by Stanfield Major
(09/10/03)
I've always been a dreamer. But more in the sense of having my head stuck too far into the clouds to attend to the practical aspects of everyday life than that of having an abundance of the phantasmagoria accompanying sleep. I teach American and English literature, so the former sense of the word hasn't crippled my life too severely. And with regard to the latter sense, the truth is that for most of my life I've only remembered bits and pieces of the wondrous flow of images and sensory input that entered my slumbers.
Sometime in the 1970s I read the books of Carlos Castaneda, and was attracted to his discussions of dreaming consciously and guiding your dreams. A faint hunger for that kind of experience clung to me through the years. Then, almost nine months ago, I came upon a book by Stephen LaBerge, entitled Lucid Dreaming, and the faint hunger expanded into an aching void. I read the book very carefully over the period of about a month, and then began to practice the techniques.
It was a long tedious haul. There were many times I almost gave up. My forbearing wife, Anita, observed my antics with an amused exasperation. Over the course of our long marriage she has had to suffer through a multitude of my enthusiasms; some short lived, and some extending for years. This one, at least, she told me with a short laugh, she could simply sleep through.
I'd been practicing the techniques described by Dr. LaBerge for a little over six months with minimal success when suddenly it happened. At first I thought I was awake. But then, recalling that I'd crossed the room in a fraction of a second, I realized that I'd finally achieved my goal. I looked at my hands. They glowed in a way I'd never seen before. I looked toward the window. The late spring sun was just peeking over the horizon. In another split second I was outside, floating above the lawn. Now I had the freedom, and I didn't know what to do.
I decided to try flying. Instantly I was soaring over the neighborhood. I remembered having these dreams as a kid, and how much I'd loved them. As I sailed above the house of our neighbors, Hector and Eileen, I realized I was thinking of Eileen and found myself in their bedroom. Hector lay sprawled on his back, snoring softly. Eileen was curled in a fetal position, facing away from him. They both were nude.
They'd moved into this house two doors down from us almost four years ago, and ever since the day I'd first seen her standing in their driveway wearing a bright yellow dress, I'd carried a small torch for her with an exceedingly hot flame. No one knew of this torch. Certainly not Eileen. But many times over the years its heat had warmed my heart. Never, until now, had I seen Eileen naked. I liked what I saw. I flitted to her side of the bed and looked down at her sleeping form. I wondered if I was really seeing Eileen or was just imagining, in my dream state, what she might look like.
Then, with a shock, I realized her eyes were open. They were focused on me. We stared at each other for what seemed like centuries.
"Can you see me?" I whispered cautiously. Afraid of the answer.
"Holy shit! This is too weird," she muttered. Or thought. Or something. Her lips didn't move.
"Can you see me, Eileen?" I asked again. I was surprised by her thought language because she was usually very quiet and soft spoken.
"What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom, Arthur?"
"It's just a dream, Eileen," I said, still stunned by her language.
She sat up. Or at least some part of her sat up. A glowing, luminescent part. The rest of her remained in its curled up position. "But I can see you, Arthur. Don't give me that shit. What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Look at yourself," I said, pointing to her recumbent form.
She turned and looked down. "Oh my God! Oh shit! Oh goddamned motherfucking shit!"
"This is a dream," I whispered... or whatever it's called when you lower the volume of a telepathic communication.
She looked at me again. "Did you know you've got a dream woody, Arthur?"
I looked down at myself. My cock, glowing like my hands had, was stiff. I felt embarrassed and vulnerable. I looked at Eileen. She was looking at my cock.
"I think I've been in love with you since the first time I saw you," I said. I didn't seem to be able to help myself.
"Mmmmmm. I wondered," she replied, still gazing at my cock. "You always seemed to act so strangely when I was around."
"Was I that obvious?"
She looked up, into my eyes. "No, you weren't obvious. I was looking for the signs. I've had feelings for you too."
"I think I must be dreaming," I said. We both laughed.
"Shit this is strange," she said. "How did this happen?"
"I been trying to have lucid dreams, dreams I consciously control, and I seem to have succeeded. Except I didn't know it was possible to make contact with other people. That is, if you're really Eileen, and not some image created by my imagination."
"I feel like me," she said. "Strange, but like me in a strange fucking situation. Are you really my neighbor Arthur? Or are you some demon wearing Arthur as a disguise?"
"As far as I can tell I'm your neighbor Arthur. I don't feel like a demon."
She floated free of her body, which was still fetally curled, and reached out to grasp my cock. "Mmmmm. I've wanted to do this for a long time."
The sensation wasn't anything like physical touching. More akin to energy flowing into energy, throwing off twinkling stars like an Independence Day sparkler. I reached out and touched her breast with the same result.
"Oh shit, this is cool," she said. "I never imagined anything like this was possible in my wildest..."
"Dreams." I said. We laughed again. Then she took my cock in her mouth and the laughter ended precipitously. The nerves, or whatever, in our astral, or whatever, bodies must correspond pretty closely to our physical bodies because feeling her mouth around my cock took me to another planet entirely.
It was at this moment that Hector's alarm clock went off. If we'd been in our physical, or whatever, bodies I think I might very well have lost my penis given the amount of pressure, ethereal as it was, I felt at that moment. Eileen's gossamer self jumped back into her body and disappeared. I remained for only a moment longer, long enough to see Hector reach out to slap the button on the clock, glance at his wife's bare back, and struggle into sitting position at the edge of the bed. Then I too was gone.
The dream, when I awoke, was etched vividly on my consciousness. But in the full light of day it didn't seem real. As I retrieved the morning paper I glanced over at Eileen's house, wondering if she was remembering the same images I was. I was afraid I'd never know. On the other hand, I was shocked by the experience, by the intense intimacy, so another part of me hoped nothing would change. And I think she felt the same way. The few times our paths crossed in the next couple of days neither of us could look the other in the eye. Then one evening when I got home from work I found Anita and Eileen on the back deck drinking margaritas. At one point, while Anita was in the bathroom, Eileen said very quietly, "I had the strangest dream about you."
My heart started pounding. "I know," I said after a long moment of silence. She looked at me. In the light streaming out of the kitchen window I could see her blush.
"I apologize for my language," she said. "I can't seem to control myself in dreams the way I can in real life."
"I wondered about that," I replied.
Anita returned, and nothing more was said on the subject.
I continued to experiment with my dreams, but it was six weeks before I worked up the nerve to visit her again. Anita had organized a barbecue bash at our house, and Eileen, Hector, and their two young sons were invited along with several other neighborhood families. So on the night before the party, I suppose because she was in my thoughts, I was once more in her bedroom. Her dream body, or whatever it was, popped up the moment I appeared.
"Oh, I was hoping you'd come," she said. Or thought.
"I wasn't sure you'd want me to," I replied in kind.
"Oh Arthur. Arthur. I've been longing for you ever since the last time. I've wanted you so much. I've been driving Hector crazy, fucking him every which way I can think of. But shit, it's just not the same. I think of how it felt to have your hard dream cock in my mouth and the juice practically runs down my legs."
A man doesn't get many invitations like this in his life. I reached out to her and our bodies flowed together. It wasn't penetration in the usual sense but rather a combining, a commingling, an interconnecting on the deepest levels, becoming One in a way impossible for physical bodies. We weren't a man and a woman. We were two playful erotic energies joined in a ball of pleasure. We were two children before the age of sexual division frolicking with a marvelous new toy with wholehearted delight. Two puppies wrestling in the grass. We very quickly realized that gravity was not a concern. Very soon after that we became aware that a shared thought could take us anywhere. We ended up on a Florida beach, hovering like butterflies. Our eyes were wide open, with me feeling her pleasure knowing she was feeling mine.
"Is this how they fuck in heaven?" she asked.
"Do they fuck in heaven?" was my response.
"Well, fucking is heavenly, isn't it?"
"This is fucking heavenly, yes."
"Are you saying I'm a heavenly fuck? How sweet."
"Fucking A!" I grunted.
"Shut up, for heaven's sake, and fuck me!" She sighed.
There wasn't the familiar building up to an abrupt orgasmic release, but rather a growing intensity, like the turning of a rheostat, that reached a powerful crescendo and then slowly subsided. It was a sensation something like being immersed in warm honey and then stimulated with the vibrations of a billion angel's wings. It wasn't me feeling it. It was Us feeling it. And sharing that mutual feeling was the deepest pleasure of all. We were One in the profoundest pleasure possible.
"Oh!" Eileen exclaimed, once the vibrations had died away. "I've never felt anything remotely like that before."
I was speechless. We were lying naked in the sand under the blazing sun, cuddling together. 2300 miles away Hector's goddamned alarm clock went off and Eileen was jerked out of my arms. Then I too was drawn back.
"You musta had quite a dream," Anita said, leering across the breakfast table. "You splooged all over my butt last night. Or, more precisely, this morning."
I looked at her startled, the shamed little boy welling up, "I'm sorry."
"I'm just razzing you, honey," she said. "But it just better have been me you were dreaming about," she added with an edgy gleam in her eye. I wasn't sure how serious she was.
"Of course it was," I said, lying, and knowing she knew I was lying. She just laughed.
Most of the rest of the day was spent preparing for the barbecue. I often found myself recalling the magical time with Eileen and smiling. Not just smiling, but humming and walking with a bounce in my step.
"That really must have been some dream," Anita said again, late in the afternoon, just before the guests were scheduled to arrive. The little boy welled up once more and I wilted. "Hey, honey, I'm just teasing you," she said, seeing my distress. "I don't care who it was. I kind of got a kick out of seeing you so excited."
That only made me feel worse.
And then we were caught in the whirlwind of our invited guests arriving. I focused on greeting the men while Anita took care of the women and children. I avoided Eileen, but could sense her hurt and bewilderment. Later, after everyone had eaten and the party had settled down to leisurely talk, I went into the bathroom in the master bedroom to take a leak, and when I came out, I found Eileen sitting on the bed I shared with Anita. I stopped cold.
"What's the matter Arthur? You haven't said two words to me."
"I don't like cheating on Anita," I said
"Oh, are we having an affair?"
"Physically, no, but mentally I have to say yes."
"Well, no one I know is a mind reader that I'm aware of so I think we're safe."
"You want to keep doing it?" I asked.
"God yes! Don't you, Arthur? It feels so incredible."
"Yes, it does. But I do feel guilty. I've never cheated on Anita."
"But it's just a dream. Haven't you had wet dreams before?"
"Yessssss."
"Did you feel guilty?"
"No," I said softly.
"Well, this is the same thing."
"Not exactly. Those other dreams were just dreams. This is real in a weird kind of way. I mean, we're here in my bedroom talking about a sex dream we had together for God's sake."
"But it was still a dream, nothing more. No one's going to catch us in flagrante delicto. I'm not going to get pregnant."
"I don't know Eileen. I have to think about it."
It hurt to see the look of disappointment on her face. She looked like she was about to cry. I turned away and for most of the evening my thoughts were in turmoil.
And then I watched my small daughter completely caught up in playing with her friends, all of them running joyfully around the yard, their faces glowing. Like puppies, playing in the grass.
Not long after that I took Anita aside. And told her the whole story. I could tell she didn't really believe me, that she thought I was describing a run of the mill wet dream.
"Honey, I'm really not jealous of your dreams," she said. "I'm glad you're having fun. But if you touch Eileen in the here and now I will break off your arm and beat you with it. Comprende?"
"Yes, dear."
She gave me a good humored scowl.
"And darling, I'm going to try to meet you in my dreams the way I did with Eileen." I told her.
"I can hardly wait," she said, clearly unimpressed. I knew that if I succeeded she might extend the prohibition against touching Eileen into the dream world as well, but I'd wait to cross that bridge when it appeared.
One of the traditions of these gatherings was for me to bring out my guitar and accompany a sing-a-long around a fire winking and sparking in the fire pit. And this night I played for almost three hours before people began to nod off. So, for the last song of the evening I began plunking out the chords of the Huddie Ledbetter classic. I saw a secret happy smile cross Eileen's face as she recognized the words I began to sing. The others heard the standard version, but with the simple substitution of a single syllable she and I heard something different.
Eileen goodnight, Eileen goodnight
goodnight Eileen, goodnight Eileen
I'll be with you in my dreams.
