Not to diss people who are actually posting, but it seems light, lately. On the other hand, I haven't taken much time to write, either.
Disturbing dreams. Okay, not so much disturbing, as weird, and unusually not wanted. As in, stirring stuff I don't care to stir that might at other times be quite enjoyable tyvm.
Okay, so I'm going through an intentional period of non-sexuality. It's part of insulating myself while examining sexual history in the No Stones class. Now that we're actually working the workbook, I am of course being attackedno, plagued well, anyway, visited, by erotic dreams. They've been echoing my attitudes in an evolving way - - the one the other night was me from totally unconfused poly days; the one last night more from now, but with totally ingenous ideas about boundaries. The weird part about last night's dream was that I spent the dream with a good friend who has never been a lust object for me in waking hours. And here I was in the dream, being non-sexual in only the most literal of ways, and casting him in the role of a happily sexual archetypal dreamboat. With, to be frank, a most envious set of erm, anatomical endowments. :) The dream did include a heavy sense that I was depriving myself of a very good time.
Frustrated myself in dreamland, but at least there was frosting. Cake frosting, no euphemism. Except in the most interpretive dream sort of sense, I suppose. When the dream is busily being explicit, it seems silly not to call a cake a cake, after all.
But as for symbols... Shallow, warm pool. Cake and frosting. Books, shelved, but in a new, unfamiliar layout. Okay. I suppose there was some symbology going on there.
Awake now. Dealing with the real, not the symbolic. Yay me.
curious