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While I was Dreaming
Welcome to The Dreamery. There have been a few changes, but my blog is still simply a random series of Thoughts and fantasies, examining my past and my impossible future. Nothing on this blog is a lie. When I say nothing that follows is made up you can be sure it is the truth. Even the dreams are real dreams that I have had . And all the fantasies are my real fantasies.

There are however some questions which may never be answered:
Is it possible to actually laugh your arse off?
How sick is a parrot?
Are sandboys truly happy?
And just how mad is a box of frogs anyway?

And mostly, I do have it all in perspective!
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Sex as Athletics Training
Posted:Aug 8, 2014 4:55 am
Last Updated:Sep 29, 2014 4:41 am

Watching the Commonwealth Games reminded me of my somewhat unorthodox, but effective early training regime. Any budding candidates for Rio, take note. There is no better way.

I was school 400 metre champion. 54 seconds. Which is funny 'cos I hate running really.

But not many people know how much sex it took me to get there. I was at a boarding school in a well known English town. And I also had a girlfriend, ( we know her as Lizzy, ) living there. As I may have mentioned before, Lizzy was thoroughly gorgeous. A big generous smile, reminiscent of Lauren Bacall, kind, but forceful and self possessed, tall, swimmer's shoulders, flat stomach, long, wrap around legs and a mischievous desire to learn all she could about sex. From me. I think of her a lot these days actually, I'm not entirely sure why, except that she is now very successful in her career and is occasionally in the news. And I still care about her, even though we haven't seen each other now for twenty years, and it is over thirty since I last slept with her.

But at seventeen our relationship was at its height. And the school I was at, being very progressive, allowed senior boarders out of school any time after classes were over, provided you were back by 6.30 pm role call. And so my year and a half of training for the 400 metres began. I mean seventeen year old boys will do most things for sex, any old sex, let alone the kind of excited learning curve Lizzy and I went on.

Her parents both worked, so conveniently for us the house was usually empty on weekday afternoons. Pretty much everyday I would be lying close to her, feeling the warmth of her soft skin against mine and glowing inwardly as well as on the surface when the clock ticked round to six twenty. Tearing myself away I would realise I had less than ten minutes to make the three quarter mile trip back to school without missing roll call, and would start running. Most days it was more like five minutes and I would be close to flat out the whole way, because if you were late, you might not be allowed out in future, and that would have been a disaster!

I always wanted to be a high jumper, but I couldn't master the flop. I wasn't quite quick enough for the sprints and I can't be bothered to keep running for more than a few minutes, so I entered the 400. And found no one could beat me. If I set out at marginally less than a sprint, then I'd get round the bend level with the pack and cruise down to the line as all the others tied up behind me. (Let's not get carried away - I am well aware that even back then, the record was over ten seconds quicker, so I do know my times weren't anything to be overly proud of. )

The time I ran 54 was in an inter schools competition, and the first and only time I ever found anyone ahead of me in the straight, so I pushed myself a bit and got passed him five metres from the line.

Like I said, I hate running, and I'm not sure I ever really ran as fast as I possibly could, but the training came very naturally to me, lol.
Dangerous Toys
Posted:Jul 24, 2014 8:22 am
Last Updated:Sep 29, 2014 4:49 am

Okay, here's a weird one. I have a slight fetish about women holding their breath.

I used to think it was based on another fetish of mine (the one I don't talk about. And I don't know why I said that because nobody, well almost nobody, even knows I have one I don't talk about) but anyway I realise now that although they may be linked in some way, I have had this one for a while without noticing. Thinking back I remember getting unexpectedly turned on by a TV program about a woman free diver a while back. Maybe I might develop this one a little?

I would love to know what triggers these little things off though. I know a lot of the time it can be remembered experiences - which is why I think people tend to have more of these strange little triggers as they get older, because they have more experiences to draw on. But there has to be something else too, to make you appreciate the sexiness of seemingly unconnected things. Then once you start to feed it, it gets bigger. (Which is why you have to be careful if it turns out to be something which could be harmful.)

Whatever. My attention was drawn to this by a comment by the Sox, although the breath holding referred to in their case was, A) probably fictitious, and B ) more a reference to petulance than sex.

But it did make me think, I mean OMG, isn't there something just nipple-hardeningly exciting about someone sucking in a great lungful of air and then holding it until they are gasping........or am I a bit weird?

You see suddenly I realise that this could in fact be potentially dangerous. Ok, simple breath holding, assuming you are healthy and don't faint and fall down the stairs, would probably safe enough for you to play with to satisfy my strange desires. (Should you feel moved to do so..... )

But I can see how, if fed, this fetish could lead me to things less safe. For example would I then start to get off on the idea of something like say choking. I am aware that many people do. I think we are probably all aware of the dangers of auto eroticism. Not having experienced it, or witnessed anyone become sexually aroused because of oxygen deprivation, I don't know what it is like, but clearly it does have an effect, and quite a lot of people have died, either by using a home made "fail safe" which went wrong, or by accidentally damaging a partner's throat, which, I remember reading, is surprisingly easy to do. And yet I notice that quite often even in fairly regular pornography, guys have their hand around their girl's windpipe.

I simply can not conceive ever of taking any risks with the wellbeing of anyone I was having sex with. So, perhaps even the effects of harmless erotic breath holding may have to be put on the long list of things I have to go without, (like real sex for example ha ha ha, (partly ironic laughter) things which, for me, fall into the category of "Too Risky to be Worth it."

People sometimes say you only regret the things you didn't do........but this is absolute rubbish. As I have mentioned before, a character in a second rate sit-com once put it rather well: "The problem about living in the moment is that it tends to bugger up the next moment." Often all too true.
Two Times Stronger?
Posted:Jul 17, 2014 1:46 pm
Last Updated:Oct 1, 2014 11:00 am

(Don't read this if you care about real mathematics.)

What's the difference between two times stronger, and twice as strong?


There is an advert which recommends a new deodorant because it is "two times stronger."

I suppose the ad men thought saying "two times stronger" would be more effective than saying "twice as strong."

But hang onaminute.............Maybe in that context two times stronger is different?

After all, if two times stronger was only the same as twice, then what would "one time stronger" be?

A-haaaaa? Not so easy is it.

Your thoughts?
Yes Please!
Posted:Jul 4, 2014 10:53 am
Last Updated:Jul 17, 2014 1:35 pm

Yesterday was one of those amazing "Summer Breeze" days. You know, the ones where I come on here and quote lyrics from Summer Breeze, and hear it playing in my head all day long.

(There are at least two posts of mine titled Summer Breeze I think, lol. )

It was blue sky and sunshine all day long, but without being too hot or humid, and with a cooling summer breeze too, just to really make it perfect. It was the kind of day when if you are out and around people sooner or later you simply cannot fail to see someone who makes you say "Oh Yes Please" to yourself under your breath as they walk by.

I guess for most (but not all) people reading this the image will be of a bare chested or T-shirted athletic looking Beckhamesque stubble-chinned hunk of ripped torso. But for me and maybe one or two others it's long legged girls in short skirts with the wind ruffling their sleeves and hinting at the promise of a glimpse of flesh between the buttons.

(I think it was Zandigal, or a friend of hers who first called this an Oreo Wind. I remember once standing waiting to cross Regent Street in London, when a tall woman in a very loose sleeveless shirt stood next to me, and the wind billowed out the shirt to reveal two perfect breasts underneath, seen through he armholes! The image is delightfully burned into my memory. )

I can't put my finger on what it is which makes me think "Oh yes please" about one sexy woman over another - it doesn't happen very often. But when it does, it reminds me that the chemistry between two people is never a quantifiable, logical thing. Sometimes someone, one particular figure in the crowd more than any other, just looks or feels right.
You Wish
Posted:Jun 5, 2014 9:48 am
Last Updated:Sep 29, 2014 6:49 am

I have been feeling a bit reclusive lately I think. It even seems to have affected my sex drive.

Not that I have any sex to be driven to, (well there was a recent opportunity, although I resisted trying to make it happen) but you know what I mean.

I think because for me sex (even imaginary sex) is all about mental intimacy as well as physical, and for some reason I don't really seem to want too much mental intimacy just now. I can't quite put my finger on why. I don't really like being like this and I expect it isn't terribly good for me either.

Part of the reason is that I just don't really like very many other people. A lot of people just are not very nice. It's not just that I expect too much of them, (I am learning not to be like that) but more that a lot of people really are too selfish to be likable.

But I also have friends, good friends, with whom I have not been in touch for a while, and I can't seem to find the enthusiasm to contact them. I don't want to let that go on for too long, but on the other hand I don't want to force it, as I have occasionally done in the past, and then piss them off by making excuses, appearing to not want to spend time on them after all.

Oh well, I keep working, churning out the admin on other stuff I have to deal with and generally interacting with people, but my heart and soul isn't in it somehow.

Normally it would be. Normally I don't bother with anything much unless I give it all of me. I just don't feel like I currently have that much to give.

Downer of a post, sorry. Back next time with something up-beat, sexy or funny, I promise.

And if anyone I meet criticises me for being this way I am going to say "You wish YOU were reclusive." I learned that from V.
Posted:May 22, 2014 2:12 pm
Last Updated:Jul 25, 2014 3:42 am

Hippiechick has a post up in which she bemoans the fact that she is constantly asked whether she is shaved or unshaved....."down there."

Me? Who the hell cares?

See, I always think, that the moment you start saying "must be ......whatever" you just aren't going to find what you are looking for.

Like in Seinfeld: however perfect his girlfriends seemed to be, it was a running gag that he would always find something seemingly insignificant wrong with them, which for him would become a total deal breaker.

Falling in love, fancying someone, lusting after someone, isn't really like that. Yes, I suppose I could describe my theoretical perfect woman, (in fact I think I did once in a post called "Dreamer's crucial checklist" or something. ) But in reality, none of the women I have ever fallen in love with, or liked, lusted after, or had any other romantic, sexual or platonic emotions in between about, has ever fully fitted that description.

My "Lioness" was cross-eyed for goodness sake! But when you are open to feeling the real core of the other person's being, and you get it, you find that all those things that you thought would be deal breakers actually don't matter at all. In fact you grow to love the things about that person which in someone else might have put you off.

So, to paraphrase a wealthy retailer who I once remember saying "The people who buy my company's clothing are the type of people who don't ask how much something is until they have their pen poised over the cheque book," and to throw in a golfing metaphor which has just occurred to me as well..............................

I don't expect to find out whether a girl is fairway smooth or forested with long rough until I'm on the green with my putter addressing the hole.

By then, I don't care as long as I sink it.
Posted:May 22, 2014 2:12 pm
Last Updated:May 22, 2014 2:32 pm

Double posting somehow. No delete option. Just this rather heavy edit!
Fire and Rain
Posted:May 22, 2014 11:07 am
Last Updated:Dec 16, 2014 3:03 am

I had some dreadful news a little while ago. It’s taken a while for it to sink in, and I hesitated to say anything about it here, partly because I was worried it might come as a shock to any of you who had not heard, partly because anyway I don’t want to make any of you guys sad, and partly because I didn’t really feel like I had any right to be affected by it, or to write anything about it here, as I was only a bystander really.

Bubblevishous wrote to me, to tell me the news for fear of me hearing it first on line, and I was grateful for that, so I apologise to anyone who is upset by this.

One of our most cherished blogging friends, TheRedHeadinHeat has died. She was only fifty, and died in hospital after a very short sudden illness.

I only know Red from her blog and her comments here on mine, but from the very first time I read anything by her I was captivated by her straightforward honesty and kindness, and her ability to get straight to the important part of anything, but at the same time without ever taking life too seriously. Whenever I wrote about anything which was important to me, she always seemed to understand what I was saying, and I always looked forward to seeing that look of knowing amusement - the trade mark of her user picture – when she posted me a comment.

Bubblevishous was one of her best friends in real life, and although I knew Red first, it was Bubbles I met once, when she came to visit London. We talked about Red a lot, the fun they had had together, what a great friend she was, and how much she was sure I would like her. Bubbles was one of a few cherished women on this site who have recognised how to approach me without making me feel like retreating. As many of you know, I am really only here to blog, and I almost never initiate contact with anyone, but I am willing to respond if I am asked to.

Bubbles - it’s in her nature - took that a stage further, wanting to meet when she was in England, and I agreed. I wish……I wish, that Red had been with her. Having met and made friends with Bubbles, somehow I always thought that one day, through her, Red and I would also meet. But we never even exchanged emails, and now of course we never will. But she was still my friend, and I will miss her every time I log on, and every time I write something here. Maybe that's why I haven't posted anything for a while - I couldn't really face it. Now anytime I write anything, I will have to remember that I no longer need to wonder what she will think of it, and whether she will comment.

Like I said, I was only a bystander in her life. I can not imagine how her real friends and family must feel. I didn't think I had any real right to cry for someone I never even knew, but then a few days ago a well known voice came on the radio and suddenly I was in floods.

"Just yesterday morning they let me know you were gone."

Showering the Tortoise
Posted:May 3, 2014 1:40 am
Last Updated:Aug 8, 2014 5:43 am

Simon Mayo (Amiably urbane UK middle aged DJ for those who don't know him,) was on good form last week.

He reads out three word texts his listeners send in, describing their day, which are often quite amusing.

"Trod on Nail. John in Northhampton,

Too Many . Beverley in Ipswich.

Showering the Tortoise......can that mean something else?" (Muffled laughter from back of studio, before he continues, audibly smirking.)

Guess what Simon - I think it can now, lol!
Two Arses
Posted:Apr 18, 2014 2:32 pm
Last Updated:May 3, 2014 1:32 am

I haven't been feeling myself recently. And I don't mean I have given up masturbation. I wish I could. I don't mean I have been trying to, I just mean I wish I had less need of it. Although in fact I haven't been feeling at my sexiest recently either. Maybe it's connected?

Anyway, those who know me know I am a curious mixture of very easy going, and fairly volatile. And recently my volatile side has been bubbling up to the surface more often in a way I don't like. I am frustrated by small things seemingly trying to go wrong all the time, and by people expecting me to go out of my way to help them as a matter of course while they remain the centre of their own selfish worlds. It is making me into a frustrated angry person I don't want to be.

My mood wasn't helped when I went to cut the grass at a sports ground I help to look after and found that some arse had let the tyres down on the set of gang mowers we use. All six of them as flat as Miley Cyrus' stomach. (I was going to say "as flat as "E"'s chest," but it would have been harsh, untrue and anyway, you know how acerbic she can be and I don't think I could have faced the come back she would inevitably have thought up for me. She has gorgeous tits really, not that I have seen them in the flesh, but even covered by a bikini they look great. But I digress.)

What possesses these people? (The tyre letters down, not the gorgeous lesbian women. ) I mean he must have sat there poking a finger nail into the valves just enjoying listening to the air coming out and laughing to himself thinking about how annoyed whoever uses the mowers was going to be. I guess I should feel sorry for someone whose only source of Good Friday entertainment is letting tyres down. Fortunately, having had the experience of flat tyres before, I had cunningly left a foot pump in the shed. It only took me half an hour to pump them up again.

A bright spot occurred on my way home however when I spotted another, extremely fine arse walking along the street in front of me. It was pert, perfectly formed, and clothed only in skin tight leggings under which it quivered like a lemon and lime jelly as if it had a mind of its own. I am normally more of a breast lover, but this was a particularly nice example. It was attached to a pleasant looking girl with a knowing expression who looked as if she should be rogered forthwith and forced to orgasm incessantly to within a moment of sensory overload. Probably is being by someone very lucky right this moment as I write. Bastard.
And me, I'm a part of your circle of friends
Posted:Apr 10, 2014 3:33 pm
Last Updated:Aug 18, 2014 7:33 am

I was walking into town, humming this song to myself ("Circle" by Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians if you are interested - tube it, you won't regret it, I may have mentioned it before,) and I realised, that if my life fell apart completely, and I really needed a support network of friends to get me through it - people I could really turn to, who would always be there for me.................................then there are a couple of life long friends I have had for ever, and maybe one or two newish close friends, but out of maybe my ten closest friends in the whole world, (and I am talking about people I can confidently say really do care about me) then at least three, and quite possibly four or five of them are people I met here on this very site.

That's pretty amazing when you stop and think about it.
Gliding down the highway
Posted:Apr 3, 2014 9:51 am
Last Updated:Apr 10, 2014 3:50 pm

I am now looking at developments in the aspect of my life referred to in the previous two posts as having similarities to an aging porn star's cock: the angle of the slope may have diminished, but the surface is still very slippery
The information's unavailable to the mortal man
Posted:Apr 2, 2014 6:02 am
Last Updated:May 22, 2014 10:36 am

Well, fate stepped in and slowed my descent, at least for now. I'm not sure if I am relieved or disappointed. Both at once probably.

Sometimes chance gives you an insight into how you really feel, and that helps. Excitement and danger is still lurking though.

But I realise that now I am older, and have seen the turmoil a wrong turn can create, I am, and want to be, a lot less adventurous than I used to be.

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