Tag Archives: dreams

Sexy Rendevous & Really Weird Dream

28 Mar

D was called in for reserve, and even though we sometimes do not see each other for a full week, this time, since he was physically far away, it felt like forever. When he was unexpectedly released for a night in his own bed, we mutually decided on a night in my own bed, even though it was against our new rule of no sleepovers when my Boy is home. I needed to see him, so I made weak rationalizations in my head. He hadn’t had bad dreams in over a week now. And he’d had a long day, he would be too tired to get up in the middle of the night and come into my room.

A knock on the door and then a bone crushing embrace that lasted a full minute, and then his lips on my neck, and in my hair and on my mouth, soft, slippery and comforting. It was the best I had felt in a while. I missed you, he said, I had missed him too. Missed his mouth, and his neck, and his shoulders, and his biceps. Missed pulling his shirt off and feeling his warm skin against mine. Within minutes, we were making out on my sofa like a coupe of teenagers, fingers caressing and groping, tongues tasting, hips dancing. And then we moved into my bedroom, where we allowed ourselves more freedom, to explore each other’s bodies with our own, to turn off lights and thoughts and just be, easing in from a jumble of arms and legs and breasts, and hips, into rythmic movement, growing steadily deeper and faster, until that magnificent moment of complete oblivion, in which nothing has place, except the intense sensation of his final thrust and my legs wrapped around him, and my head tilted back as I muffle a groan.

But that night, back in our clothes, sleeping deeply, facing different directions, our legs still tangled like the roots of an ancient tree, I awoke abruptly to see his little face in the dark, “I can’t sleep”. Thank god for his little body, his head barely peering over the edge of the mattress. The darkness. D tucked away under the comforter. I got up immediately and took my Boy back to bed, patting his back for a full twenty minutes, which felt like forever, until he was breathing heavily again.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No. It’s OK.”

D held me as a made an honest effort to go back to sleep. Finally, there he was, my son. It was morning, the sun beamed through the open shades and he was asking me, “who’s this, mom?” With surprise and sleepiness I woke D up. I said, “This is D. He’s a friend.” And I put my boy with a bowl of cereal in front of the TV. My sister was suddenly there. And she was playing with him, as the doorbell rang. Shit. Must be BD and his new girlfriend here to pick up my boy. Quick, D, out the back door.

They came in, smug, and went straight to the Boy’s room to pack an overnight bag for him. A couple of minutes later, it was too quiet in his room, as it often is with young children, and I felt worried, that something was wrong. I opened the door and found them: D, BD and new girlfriend, and they were getting dressed. When I confronted them, they admitted to having had a threesome, right there in my child’s bedroom. What the fuck?? I was out of my mind with rage, but all they did was shrug it off. D even said I was making a big deal out of nothing. I remember thinking miserably, how gullible I was, how I allowed someone, once again, to become close to me, and hurt me so terribly.

At 5 am the alarm rang, a few minutes after I had woken up. D’s arms were around me again, consoling me after I’d nudged him and whispered “bad dream”. When I told him about it he laughed and quoted the Lonely Island singing It’s not gay if it’s in a threeway. Then he did an Eddie Murphy impression and said, “You know what? Yeah. I fucked her. OK? I fucked her. But I made love to you.” We laughed it off, and he went back to his reserve, and I woke my son up with oatmeal and smiles, awaiting the weekend, when we’d have the house to ourselves, making new promises to avoid sleepovers on weeknights, at least until D’s called in for reserve again.


I Don’t Even Know What to Name This Post

18 Oct

I am well aware that this is my third post in 24 hours. This is what happens when I’m left alone to contemplate on my weekend off.

All week I’ve been pestering my friends, trying to make plans for this weekend, and everyone’s been busy. Literally, there were no options, even my parents went away this weekend. So I binged on seafood and beer and watched a movie (girl’s life sucks and then she meets a dude) and spent too much time online, and finally I went to bed and took forever to fall asleep, and pulled a muscle in my shoulder which is bugging the hell out of me.

And oh, in case you were wondering, my preiod’s late and I have horrible PMS. And don’t worry, I’m not pregnant, last time I checked you needed to have sex for that to happen, and I’m just not that lucky. But, this waiting irritably for my period to come has one perk to it, which is that no matter how fucking lonely and sad I feel right now, I cannot sleep with an ex. And I think that should be my new life mission: no sleeping with exes.

Last night after finally falling asleep, reading a silly romance novel (girl’s life sucks and then she meets a dude, sound familiar?) recommended by my friend J, who guess what, went away this weekend with everyone else, I had a very weird erotic dream, which I am about to share with you lucky bastards.

I was in Berlin, in my friend M’s uncle and aunt’s house, where we visited summer 2013. That was a hell of a trip. I’m going to sidetrack now and tell you about it for a second. M had only recently found out that she was sick, and it was as good an excuse as any to get together for a reunion trip. There was me, playing the role of the single mom, betrayed by her partner of 13 years, but awesomely strong and feeling hot post affair with SG. There was G, who now has three kids and is in a cult, but back then only had two kids and was in a cult. She had recently moved into a new house in the middle of nowhere and was weening her youngest from nursing, so had sore boobs the entire trip and basically could not believe that she was actually sleeping through the night. J was the stable one, which was weird because shortly before she had been the all-over-the-place-looking-for-herself one. She lived with a boyfriend, who we all loved, but now hate, since they broke up. She’d quit the life of unbearably low teacher’s income to work in hi tech and was overwhelmed by the hours, the emails and the stress, but at the same time enjoying immensly the sense of financial relief. E couldn’t come. She was busy going into labor. Actually, I think I should lable her as the stable one. She’d had a bunch of shitty stuff happen to her, but she was now living with her very kind and loveable husband and having a baby with him. Plus, she’d just handed in her thesis.

Then there was M. I met M when we were 18 and clueless and soldiers (gotta love mandatory military service), and I hated her at first because she’d made a comment about my weight. She’d been cynical, she later clarified, and I hadn’t discovered cynicism yet back then. A few months later we got to know each other and became best buds. Our gang got me through some rough times. I was horribly depressed in the army (and then I met a guy. Sound familiar?).

Anyway, M was going through some hard times back then, and her way of dealing with it was for us to go out dancing until the wee hours of the night. She didn’t like to drink back then, so she was always the designated driver. She lived with her parents in a gorgeous house in a beautiful town with the greenest most soothing views. And our favorite thing to do, after clubbing, was to come home at 6 am and order junk food and eat it at the best viewpoint in town, joking loudly about the guys who had hit on us, or who’d told us we danced like whores (true story). Our ears still ringing post BabyOneMoreTime and YourLoveGotMeSoCrazyRightNow, we’d fall asleep until it was early afternoon and then laze about in the garden, picking fruit from the trees.


I know I was talking about Berlin, and my dream, which now suddenly feels totally unimportant. I’ve been very honest and open in this blog until now, but if there’s one thing I haven’t written about at all it’s my friend M’s sickness. And I think I mostly haven’t written about it because she’s one of the only people I know who reads this blog. And it feels sort of unfair to write about how hard it is for me that she’s sick, and to have her read about it. Sort of like how my mom kept telling me how hard it was for her when BD and I broke up.

Obviously it’s hard to worry about her. Obviously seeing someone you deeply love in pain is the worst thing in the world. Obviously it pains me that I would like to be there for her more than I am able to, physically and emotionally. But in all honesty, the worst part is the most selfish part. I just miss our carefree friendship of early 20’s. I miss going out to a club and dancing “like whores”, and making fun of the boys that hit on us. And I’m not good at being patient. And you need a lot of patience to fight cancer.



That trip, I think, was a moment of forgetting about all the crap that was going on in some of our lives and just having some carefree fun. I think I remembered it now because I was going through some old photos and maybe that’s why it entered my weird sex dream which I was about to talk about when I began reminiscing like some sad 80 year old. So let’s get back to it, shall we?

I was with M at her uncle and aunt’s house, and I think the rest of the gang was there too. Yes, E as well, I’m remembering now, no kiddos, just us. And there was a guy there, his name was K, and actually, I know him. When I went on my three magical day vacation in Budapest this summer, he had showed me around. I knew him through M, because she was into couch surfing and he’d stayed at her apartment in the city the year before. K was really sweet, funny and had a sexy French accent, because he was originally from Bourdeau. Anyway, he was in my dream too, and we were sharing a room.

The room was enormous and our single beds were at two completely different corners of it. Before we’d gone to bed we’d had a dinner all together, with the aunt and uncle as well, and we were drinking red wine and laughing and K and I were slightly flirtatious, but only slightly. When we got to the bedroom though, I decided I was going to make a move.

I was a little worried because I hadn’t showered, and I felt self concsious. Still, I felt like I had not been touched in forever (wonder where that feeling came from) and I decided to just go for it. I came to his bed and started chatting and kind of touching him on the shoulder and flirting. And he said: “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” Which I read as rejection. But then I said to myself, don’t over think it, and I kind of continued flirting and soon we were making out. I remember vividly thinking to myself that if he had said this was not a good idea, that meant this was probably a one-time thing. And I was OK with that. It also crossed my mind that he might actually stop in the middle, because who knows, maybe there was a good reason why he’d said that. And then I remember thinking, even if we don’t actually go through with this, at least someone is holding me right now. I should just stop thinking and enjoy this warmth because who knows when anyone is going to ever hold me again.

He was warm, and I remember it in a non-sexual sort of way, like it was just comforting and nice. And then, it started to become sexual and I was totally worried about the shower thing again, so I told him I needed to go to the bathroom and went to shower quickly. I had to run around the entire house half naked and couldn’t find the shower, and finally did, and there was no door or towel, and I sort of washed myself and somehow dried up, but then the shower curtain fell and I just decided not to fix it and run back to the room.

He was still in bed and was waiting for me, and I was surprised he still wanted me, because I was sure I’d taken too long and he would be over it. And then we fucked and it was totally boring and missionary, but just so nice and comfortable and warm and when it was over I was prepared to go back to my bed but then I got the nerve to ask him to hold me and he did.

There will be no paragraph tying everything I’ve writted here together, with some hopeful message to the world or to myself. In two hours my Boy comes home and I go back to being a mom, which is something I can handle. So for now, goodbye alone time. I hope to not encounter you any time soon.

It’s a New Dawn, It’s a New Day (It’s a New House, It’s a New Fling)

14 Apr

porch swing

Imagine this: I’m in my 2001 Mazda, windows rolled down, on the highway, and this is blasting on the radio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zu4kQRnz75E

Chewing gum and blowing bubbles.

Nodding my head like it’s 1992 and I’m Mike Myers.

It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day. Ten days ago, I left my city apartment, with the chattering neighbors, and the stuffy stairwell, and the streets crammed with buildings, traffic lights and garbage cans, and moved into a quiet suburban neighborhood, where morning sounds are birds chirping, coffee dripping and children playing. After a lengthy search and almost having given up on the idea several times, I finally found a cute little house with an itty bitty garden and a more than decent landlady.

I moved!

I packed, I sorted out books and CD’s and other accumulated possessions into His and Mine boxes. There’s nothing in my new house that isn’t mine. No forgotten pair of men’s underwear intruding on my drawers. No How to Become Rich inspicrapical books that I’ll never read on my book shelves. It’s all me and my boy.

Third morning in my apartment, my Boy slept over at his dad’s. I opened my eyes and looked around the room. I did not feel disoriented, I felt content (in more ways than one). The light coming through the windows, and the quiet of the empty house were soothing and comforting. The coffee I shared with a friend in the sunlit garden and the stories that were told between gulps made me feel free… Stories about the date, first one since Skating Guy, stories about after the date, stories about 5 am goodbyes.

God, I needed that. The second he laid his hands on me (finally, I had been signaling for most of the evening) my body turned to butter as I blissfully parted with analysis and judgment and allowed myself to sink into the sweet oblivion of arms and legs, and lips and tongues and necks, and backs, and other parts.

That was last week. Then there was unpacking. I pretty much deserve a medal for having the house completely unpacked and organized in 7 days. Including, obviously, a PORCH SWING! Including sitting on that porch swing, hugging my knees, with a nice cup of herbal tea. Happy place.

Ever since I can remember, this has almost always been the case: If I wanted something so badly, that I could literally envision it in my head, that I was able to make myself believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that it would come true – it did. I’ve seen this picture in my head so many times before. And here it is materialized.

The highway, the car, the music, parking under a tree that will cover my already dirty car with a sea of dry leaves before morning. The radio switched off, the windows rolled up, the car door shut, the green gate opened, and here I am, in my little haven, with the birds chirping, laundry drying on the line and my son’s toys left outside on the grass.

I made this for myself. And I’m almost as proud of that as I am of the gorgeous little boy I get to share this with.

Back to My Future

31 May

Back to the Future

Baby has been sick this week, and I was home with him, cleaning his vomit, coaxing him to drink water and consoling all 11 kilos of him in my arms for hours… This morning, when he finally went down for his nap, I collapsed in bed and fell asleep at once.

Suddenly, I was on the set of Back to the Future, and it was being filmed. I wasn’t really taking part in the movie, but I was more than an observer, it’s like I was an extra, just there. I remember thinking to myself, hey, I’ve seen this, it’s a great movie. Yes, I know that’s weird since it was just being filmed, but you know, it’s a dream. Then Baby woke up and nap time was over.

This past month has been a trip back to the past for me, and it hasn’t been easy. I know I’m having a hard time when I have a need to blog every single day, and I’ve had times like that. But I also know I’m having a horrible time when I don’t blog at all, and I haven’t been. I was doing much better, getting used to my new life as a single mom, thinking about the future, making plans, living as I wanted to live. This couple’s therapy thing with BD is really getting to me. It’s making me feel like I’m regressing. I’m sad again, I feel less in control of my life, I get to the end of every day feeling like I need a drink, or make that three. Last night I stared at the TV for an hour. I know most people do that on a regular basis, but I don’t. It wasn’t even a show I enjoyed, it was just some stupid reality show that I hate and find degrading towards women.

I’ve made a decision to keep this up for two months (one down, one to go), and I hope I get what I’m looking for at the end of this process: closure, certainty, confidence that I’m doing the right thing. But in the meantime, I’m craving that future that just a short while ago seemed so close and now seems farther than ever.



Naked Bathroom Search and Party of Five

11 May

party of five

The Dream

So in this one I was in BD’s old apartment, where he lived with his parents when we just started dating. And he and I were having sex for the first time in his bedroom, only he wasn’t really BD, he kind of looked like him, but he was different. I remember thinking, OK, he’s not really amazing… but there’s potential there. Then we were done and I wanted to go to the bathroom, but his parents were home, and for some reason the option of putting my clothes back on did not occur to me. So I tried to sneak out into the hallway naked and find the bathroom.

Then, suddenly, I was at a red carpet event, and weirdly, talking to the cast of Party of Five (Yeah, I know). They were all there and they were as young as they’d been when the show aired. I remember specifically Neve Campbell and Jennifer Love Hewitt were talking about this other series they had done before Party of Five, and how this one was so much better.

Finally, there I was at BD’s parents’ house again, looking for the bathroom. I met his mom in the hall, and she directed me, thankfully ignoring the fact that I was totally naked. Once I got to the bathroom though, I realized that there was a door directly from BD’s bedroom to the bathroom. It was weird, because the bathroom was tiny, but still had two doors, and I realized that BD probably had it put in specially.


Working on it with BD means that he’s going to have to change, just as I’ve changed dramatically these past almost-eight-months that we’ve been a apart. So the BD whose bedroom I entered in the dream was different, but he also resembled more of the BD I fell in love with in the year 2000, when I was hooked on Party of Five, BTW.

Why Party of Five? I don’t know. I guess the show represents a nontraditional family to me, one that can still find happiness despite facing great difficulty. So maybe they represent not getting back together with BD, but rather pursuing a different road, a road to nontraditional happiness. After all, this show is much better than the previous one, at least Neve and Jennifer think so.

But if BD and I do get back together, I need to  know that things will be different. Maybe not dramatically. He won’t become a different person. He’ll still be him, just like his old room was still pretty much the same in the dream, just like the bathroom was still tiny, and there were still a lot of inconveniences. But – he might have a door put in specially, to make my life easier. He might make more of an effort to accommodate my needs.


Working at it with BD is turning out to be harder than I thought, especially since, well, we’re NOT working on it. He’s still on his business trip, we hardly even talk on the phone, and I’m basically spending most of my time moping around and missing SG. The more I think about it, the more it confuses me. Every day I find it more difficult still to explain to myself why on earth I gave up something that made me so happy for something that so far, has only brought me misery.  The weird thing is that all my life I’ve been a super decisive person. I don’t remember EVER debating over a decision like this. I always know what I want, and I’m also aware that my decisions may not always be right, but that at least I’m making them and moving on. And here, for the first time in my life, I am truly unable to make a decision. It’s so fucking hard, it really feels like it’s tearing my up inside. To be honest, I’ve never had much empathy for BD’s indecisiveness. It always drove me nuts that he couldn’t make up his mind about anything. And now, for the first time, I get it. At least, I kind of get it.

But I also don’t think I’d be having such a hard time with this if he were here, and we were actually working at it, rather than keeping things on hold, which is BD’s specialty.

Part of the reason I want to give BD a shot, is that I want Baby to have a traditional mother-father-child family. I want him to have a brother or a sister. I want to have big family dinners with grandparents, and uncles and aunts and cousins. But going back to that, means going back to that tiny bedroom. It means going back to a relationship that confines my happiness. It might be more convenient this time, I might be more comfortable than I had been. But if I’m brave, I can say FUCK EVERYTHING, and continue living my fabulously difficult life. So I guess that’s the decision really. isn’t it?