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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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Please Please Please
Posted:Nov 11, 2011 6:58 am
Last Updated:Nov 18, 2011 7:28 am
8247 Views

Fearne Cotton played Slow Moving Mollie's new cover version of "Please Please Please Let me Get What I Want" by The Smiths on her show today, and I wanted to share some thoughts with you about it.

Apparently it's going to be used in a Christmas advertisment on TV so we'll be seeing lots of it.

I first came across this tune when I heard an instrumental version of it played by The Dream Academy, used for the famous Art Gallery scene in Ferris Beuller's Day off. I have watched that film countless times just for that scene. You can watch a clip of it in the usual tube place on line, and it's good, but out of context it doesn't quite make the same impression on me. What that impression is exactly I can't describe, though I have tried before. Skierchick would remember if she was still around, she was a fan of that film.

Something about the wistfulness of the music coupled with the way the are so carefree - and yet take their lives and their futures so seriously as well - perfectly describes the feeling of being that age. Or maybe for me, the feeling of being any age. And the way the film cuts from Cameron to the painting, and back again, getting closer in each time never fails to enthrall me. (The painting is called "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of Grande Jatte," by Georges Seurat, in case anyone is interested. )

Anyway, it took a long time for me to warm to The Smiths. I always thought Morrisey was a self-absorbed whinger who only ever wrote one decent melody, but I now realize I wasn’t really getting what he was on about. The total despair for a dead-end small-town life he conjurs out of "Every Day is Like Sunday" is an exceptional feat of showing those of us who have never spent Sunday morning "silent and grey," "trudging over wet sand back to the bench where your clothes were stolen," what it's like. I love various versions of Please Please Please, but no ones sings it quite like Morrisey, which is fitting as he wrote it after all. I’ve posted the lyrics, but they don’t really work without the music: that's what gives it its ethereal quality.

Good times for a change
See the luck I've had
Can make a good man turn bad

So please please please
Let me let me let me
Get what I want
this time

Haven't had a dream in a long time
So for once in my life
Let me get what I want
Lord knows it would be the first time


The way he pleads for just this one chance to be happy is an amazing feat of balancing desperation and faint hope, without it sounding self pitying at all. I don't know how he does that, but it resonates with me, because sometimes I feel like that is the story of my life. Always knowing I am lucky really, often getting chances, but somehow always longing for a contentment which for the most part stays tantalizingly out of reach.
5 Comments
When you look in her eyes
Posted:Nov 9, 2011 1:36 pm
Last Updated:Nov 29, 2011 3:34 am
8193 Views

Island Girl

She was rummaging through a box of records and complaining about the music when I saw her. She was slim, pretty, dark haired and - shown off by the shortest of blue cotton dresses - she had legs to die for. They were very sun tanned, in fact I noticed they were a bit burnt and had a white stripe down the outside of the thighs where the tan had recently peeled away, but they were no less beautiful as a result. Perfect Imperfections even, maybe.

I was twenty one, and walking back from work at a holiday job on the evening that followed the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer, I had gate crashed a informal celebration party in the garden of a local pub. There was no DJ, just a record player and some speakers. I walked up and pretended to be looking in the record box, not noticing her. I picked out a couple of singles and said something about not thinking much of the music, and she agreed.
"What have you got there?" she asked, and I showed her. I can't remember for sure, but one of them might have been Bob Marley. Island Records. She'd just come back from a holiday in Barbados. Hence the suntan "Let's put them on," she suggested.
I agreed, and we exchanged views on music generally. I wanted to get into conversation without her thinking I was chatting her up, and it seemed to be working.
"Want to dance?" I said, and she said, "Yes." She had the most amazing dark blue eyes.

I was reminded of this yesterday as I looked deep into them again for the first time in a few months, and saw them constantly flicker back and forth from side to side as she looked back into mine. I'd forgotten how she does that. She isn't the only person I've come across who does it, but she does it beautifully. There aren’t many women whose eyes I can gaze into like that without feeling uncomfortable. Unless I am in love with them. But with her......well, we were lovers for a while, long ago in another life. But it didn't last long and yet somehow over the years we got closer instead of drifting further apart, and now we are real life-long friends. But I had forgotten the way she looks into my eyes. It feels almost as good as being in love, and she probably knew I needed that.

I don't normally look into someones eyes that much I don't think. I normally watch their lips while they are talking, and then glance at the eyes now and again while I speak myself. But normally I feel self conscious if it is more than a glance. Unless I am in love, then I want to look into someones eyes all the time. I noticed when I met "Future Girl" in London, at first she kept saying "what?" because I couldn't take my eyes off her face. It was different though. It was too late, I wasn't allowed to look at her like that any more. I wish I had been able to just look and look and look at her. She has pretty eyes too. Maybe one day.
6 Comments
Adored From Afar
Posted:Nov 2, 2011 11:53 am
Last Updated:Nov 9, 2011 12:25 pm
7849 Views

Have you ever had the experience when someone loved you and you didn't know? I was watching a soap opera on tv and I had the feeling that I was watching the start of a new story line in which a young woman was falling completely in love with a guy who, for now, was oblivious to her feelings. Seeing the look of adoration on her face as she looked at him - while his mind was on something else - gave me a shock. I wanted him to realise, and be glad. I envied him that accepting, undemanding, lasting affection she held for him.

This was definitely one of the ways in which Future Girl made such an impact on me. I had such a short time to learn what a powerful feeling this can be - when you do become aware of it - before it was.....well.....not gone, but suspended again.

How wonderful it feels if you realise you are going to be able to reciprocate, rather than have to kindly deflect that love. How amazing to know that the way someone feels for you wasn't generated by the knowledge that you had feelings for them, but simply by them seeing you the way you are. That is a strange paradox though, because of course knowing someone loves you can make it more likely you will fall for them, I think.

It made me wonder whether it might have happened for me before and I never did realise. Or what about those times when I may have had feelings for someone and held them back because I didn't believe they could be returned? How do I know they would not in fact have been lovingly welcomed? But once again, "no one is ever told what would have happened."
3 Comments
Lost
Posted:Oct 31, 2011 8:24 am
Last Updated:Jan 10, 2013 5:04 am
10273 Views

I'm sorry – once again my blog posts seem to be mostly about me feeling sorry for myself. Some of you guys have seen me like this before; I know I am asking a lot for anyone to be sympathetic. I would like to be posting all kinds of interesting thought-provoking stuff for you, or erotic fantasies for you to dream about when you are alone. But it isn't in me. I am meant to be trying to stay strong, but it doesn't come easily. Even in those odd moments when I think of something that would be amusing, like The Incident with the Five Schoolgirls, or the Bacon Sandwich Fantasy it is almost as if I can't bring myself to feel good enough about life to write them out. I feel like it would be fake. "Fake it till you make it," they say, and that doesn't come easily to me either. Forgive me. If I do find the enthusiasm I'll write them, I promise.

Also I don't remember working from home being so hard in the past. Sometimes if I didn't have much work on, I would blog a little, or maybe do some woodwork, or some writing, or go outside and enjoy the sunshine. Then other times I would be busy, get stuck into a project, or maybe even earn some money. Now, I am at least having occasional momentary bursts of drive, but I think it is mostly an angry kind of "Oh well fuck it all and get on with it" syndrome. I don't like it, and nothing I do really seems to mean much. It feels like work is all I have, and yet my work has never been my life. I just sit and look at the computer and wonder what I am doing with my life. And this time I have the added sadness that my blog somehow feels less like a happy escape and more of a symbol of Life Without People Who Used To Love Me. There is no slight intended on those of you who are still reading, and whose friendships I highly value of course: it is just that sometimes it feels painful to be thinking of things to write here.

It's as if Future Girl is somewhere behind that screen. I am used to her being there of course. I had got used to her signing in and just keeping me company during the day, as well as talking to her late at night. Now, although she checks in with me when she can, she has too many other things to do with her time, and I feel lost and alone when I don't talk to her. I am happy that she is happy, genuinely so.......but I'm not finding it easy to cope without seeing her, hearing her voice and knowing she is out there. Knowing that her love still exists. I know this sounds rather pathetic.

I expect time will get me through this, like it has done before, but at the moment I can't visualise how being contentedly happy again would feel. I suppose I should be grateful: many people have known that kind of lingering disquiet all through their lives. I know I have always had it easy, but right now I still feel lost.
16 Comments
The Importance of Wrist Strength
Posted:Oct 26, 2011 10:30 am
Last Updated:Oct 31, 2011 4:26 am
7944 Views

A very loveable person gave me an early birthday present. It's called a power ball. Made of futuristic plastic and about the size of a tennis ball, but heavier, it incorporates a gyroscope, which, once spinning, can be induced to revolve at high speeds by the correct movement of the wrist, at the same time providing the perfect resistance to strengthen the tendons and muscles in that area.

It can be used to relieve carpal tunnel and repetitive strain injuries, (which fortunately I don't have, ) and to improve dexterity and strength for sports like tennis, cricket and squash, which happily I do play. I am starting to see how effective it can be, and it is fun and mentally therapeutic too. A really good present actually.

However, I can't help feeling that this present may have - perhaps subconsciously - been given with an ulterior motive in mind. Having been using it over the last couple of days, and getting used to how it works, I am finding that one of the muscle groups it is working on in my wrist is the one used for that two fingered beckoning motion which all lovers of the G spot have come to know and love. Being as out of practice as I am, I now realise that it might have been an unwelcome experience to find myself suffering a burning loss of muscle power in that area at a critical moment.

I don't know how much time I have got to work on toning up my wrist and fingers, under the guise of improving my game, but I hope by the time the giver of this present is ready to receive, the benefits will be apparent.
4 Comments
Taking Risks
Posted:Oct 24, 2011 9:36 am
Last Updated:Aug 16, 2013 12:19 am
8360 Views

There have been a few times in my life I have taken dangerous risks. Mostly I have got away with it - I have been an incredibly lucky person in all kinds of ways.

Sometimes I have taken stupid risks, without even knowing I was doing it, and only realized afterwards how easily a disaster could have happened.

Sometimes I have realized absolutely straight away. I was once messing with my car radio on a narrow road, only to look up and find I was on the wrong side with a truck bearing down on me only a few yards away. How I missed it I'll never know, but I did. Maybe my own Guardian Angel was looking over my shoulder, shouting "watch out" in my ear.

Hippiechick commented on my "Triceratops" picture, and I replied that it had taken a bit of dangerous scrambling to get the shot, so I was glad it was worth it. But then I thought: I suppose it wouldn't have been if I had fallen. I didn't, so it was okay. And it wasn't really that risky. You can't go through life always worrying that something bad will happen: you have to live. There wasn't much danger of falling, provided I was careful, which I was. But if I had fallen, I would have been killed, and it would not have been worth it.

This set me thinking about risks generally. I think I tend to work on the basis that serious risks are only really worth it if you think you would still say "well it was worth the risk," if, after taking that risk, the worst actually does happen. So whilst I have never been unlucky enough to have a life changing accident, or a permanent physical injury as a result of taking a risk, maybe that's because I have always been either careful, far-sighted, or lucky enough not to get caught out. But when it comes to emotional risks, wow, I have taken plenty, and got caught a few times too. Sometimes the consequences have been just pain. Sometimes they really have been life changing.

As Aslan famously says to Lucy - I think it's in "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader," - "No one is ever told what would have happened," So of course I have no idea of know how my life would be if I hadn't taken those risks. But I am not naturally a regretful person. So even now, I can still look back and say, those kinds of risks have always been worth it.
9 Comments
Guardian Angel
Posted:Oct 21, 2011 9:03 am
Last Updated:May 3, 2012 5:54 pm
8850 Views

Yesterday I spent the day with The Woman Who Will Become Future Girl. It was a lovely day, just hanging out in London together, and I think we both found each other to be exactly as we had expected. Underneath the simplicity of a day having coffee, sitting in the sunshine in Green Park, and going to an exhibition, it was the kind of day when, in months or even years to come, just looking at the clothes I was wearing will always bring back the memory in focus. We gave each other birthday presents which won't be forgotten either.

Despite the fact that we always find a way to make everything alright, there were moments yesterday when we found out that there are still aspects of how we feel which make life harder for both of us. But even though we can't be lovers, we both want to go on being as supportive as we can for each other. I think I have spent so much effort over the last few weeks dealing with being hurt over losing part of her, and she has spent so much love trying to make it easy for me, that I forget how hard it has been for her to make the decision to give me up. There was a moment yesterday - and again when we spoke today - when I saw that so clearly. I need to try to be stronger for her now, and let my lust for her drift away. Or maybe store it away in a corner of my heart somewhere, and only look at it in the dark.

We will still tell each other the truth, we will still confide in and support each other. And sometimes, when she needs to, Future Girl will come here quietly and read about my hopes and fears, like she always has, and take comfort in my life, whatever is happening in hers. As well as going on being her friend, I need to go back to being her virtual guardian angel through my blog. Because my blog will always be here for her, just like it is for you too. There are posts all through my blog, like this one, that she can and will always come back to. Whenever I write anything, I always think of the people here that I care about, and wonder what they are doing and what they will think of what I write. But especially now, I will always think of Future Girl.

Future Girl has never left a comment. She probably never will. But that doesn't mean the rest of you can't, just because this post is about her. Many of those who I have blogged with for ages are either gone or inactive, but my blog thrives on the interaction between all of us, and sometimes I need that to keep going. Please.
9 Comments
Meeting Future Girl
Posted:Oct 18, 2011 1:45 pm
Last Updated:Oct 25, 2011 2:52 am
8603 Views

So far I feel remarkably relaxed. At eleven o'clock on Thursday morning my heart might be racing a bit. I am meeting The Woman Who Will Be Future Girl. We are both excited. Maybe at some point, as a train speeds her towards our meeting place, Future Girl herself will be time-travelling in. It might be hard for her to make her presence felt, but I believe she will, at least a little. I think I spoke to her yesterday. She was scared. Frightened we won't love each other after all, and frightened we'll love each other too much and make life hard for ourselves. It is too soon for us I know. But she should know better.....or maybe right now she can't remember what happens next.

It's hard to explain, but for Thursday, if we don't stretch the boundaries too far, maybe we can manage to exist in a little time bubble of our own, where the world of now can't reach us. Where we can remember that there is something that has happened between us that has become part of us both, and which we don't want to hide away from. Maybe we can reassure each other than it can still be something good, even for now, and that it isn't something that is likely to die away over time, but that it will still be there when enough time has passed for Future Girl to have a lot less far to travel.
9 Comments
A Triceratops?
Posted:Oct 18, 2011 12:25 am
Last Updated:Oct 25, 2011 2:51 am
7064 Views
I said "Stegosaurus" on my previous post, but it was a slip of the mind - the Stegosaurus had upright plates of bone armour on its back - this looked like a Triceratops, a three horned dinosaur version of a modern rhinoceros. In a few years it will have eroded away even more and won't look like this any more.
5 Comments
Stone Glacier
Posted:Oct 17, 2011 2:41 pm
Last Updated:Oct 25, 2011 4:49 am
6933 Views
On holiday in Scotland, I scrambled down to a rocky forshore to find this river of stones, fallen from the cliffs and progressively rounded by the waves as they neared the sea, looking like a stone glacier gradually flowing from the hillside into the water.



Further along the coast, a rock stack faced the atlantic storms, which had sculpted along fault lines and strata to leave a shape like a prehistoric stegosaurus, complete with horns and vestigial tail. I wondered how long it had been like that, until in a local pub I saw another photo, some thirty years old, in which, though fascinating, the image was simply one of a strange rock; not reminiscent of any animal.

On a holiday for ever to be remembered for the intricacies of timing, I realised how lucky I was to have stumbled on this natural sculpture just at the right moment for it to resemble this ancient creature - in another few years the sea will have chipped away that tremendous horn, leaving no more than an off-shore standing rock face......which people will admire and think beautiful none the less.
4 Comments
Orgasm from Nipple Stimulation Alone - Is There a Name For it?
Posted:Oct 14, 2011 9:05 am
Last Updated:Oct 24, 2011 4:26 am
7152 Views

Many years ago a friend and I had a conversation with someone who I shall call "Outdoor Sports Girl," in which she mentioned that once, (and only once) she had had an orgasm simply from having her nipples played with. She wouldn’t let us try though....at least not at the time…..

I was reminded of this the other day when he and I were discussing our latest relationship traumas, and somehow he got onto the subject of his Bucket List. (I don't have one yet, or at least only a partial one, and he is encouraging me to write one – I think perhaps I should, but that is another story…… )

Anyway, it came out that "To make a woman orgasm merely from having her nipples stimulated" had been on his list, and he has now achieved it!
"Not with Outdoor Sports Girl?" I queried.
"No," He said. I guiltily told him that a year or two after we'd had that initial conversation, I had got her close like that, but not quite all the way, and anyway....that's another story too.

So, as many of you know, my own nipples are sensitive, and they are also a bit of a mental trigger for me. I am a firm believer that whilst some people's nipples are more sensitive than others', their connection with all the nerves that make us come, or want to come, is something that can also be learnt and intensified with practice and by paying them the right attention. Certainly when I was younger, mine seemed less sensitive and less connected to the whole sexual process than they are now. Even so, as yet I have never ejaculated merely from a woman's attention to them.

But I know that there are women for whom this can occasionally happen, and I find myself wondering if there is a name for it. You know – in the same way that a Unicorn is a bi-sexual woman looking for couples, and a Cougar is an older woman sleeping with younger men. I can't think of anything yet, at least not a noun. Maybe "Norgasmic" would do as an adjective though, as in: "Mate, I can't believe it – I had sex with Outdoor Sports Girl last night and she came just from me nibbling her nipples!"
"Really? Wow, I didn't realise she was norgasmic."

Any ideas anyone? Experiences? Thoughts generally?

Dreamer, curious of Bloghampton.
7 Comments
I am in the movies
Posted:Oct 12, 2011 3:00 pm
Last Updated:Oct 24, 2011 9:36 am
6757 Views

Does that happen to you? You see yourself played out on the screen with someone you care about? I mean you know I have done it before - I was Jude Law in "The Holiday" while partygirl played Cameron Diaz. But that was a long time ago, and it turned out to mean nothing.

So tonight I spent the evening watching "Music and Lyrics." Daft, and soft like candy floss, but somehow I love it and can watch it again and again. This time I was Hugh Grant (obviously) and Future Girl was Drew Barrimore. (I've seen her as Drew Barriomore in other films too actually, "Fifty First Dates," "Never Been Kissed," but I've never dared mention it before. ) It is a compliment from me of course, but.....I don't know....she might not see it that way........Maybe she will.......Anyway, it's out there now.

"I've been looking for someone to shed some light, not just somebody who can get me through the night,
And if you help me to start again, you know that I'll be there for you in the end."
5 Comments
Making Love With Future Girl
Posted:Oct 11, 2011 3:11 pm
Last Updated:Nov 2, 2011 12:08 pm
6806 Views

In some ways this is just a vision I used to have of the future, but in some ways nothing that follows is made up.

Forgive me, I know that this story has been hard to follow so far. This woman, who for a while was part of my life without me knowing it, has a vision of her future self who, sometime - when the timing is right - will be my lover. Not long ago we were able to make ourselves a link to that time, but now the link is hard to find, and part of her is out of reach in the future again.

But before the distance between us stretched beyond touching distance, we both saw how it would be if, (or when, as she would say,) we were together. I think we would spend a lot of time talking, relaxing, being sure of each other again. But in the end, the bedroom would beckon. There are already a great many ways we have talked of making love. Maybe this would be one of them.

I see myself lying back, propped against the pillows, half covered by the lightest of duvets. She also lies back against me at an angle, her back against my chest. My arms are around her, softly playing over her breasts and her stomach as I nibble gently on her shoulder and along the nape of her neck towards her hair line. But as my hand begins to stray lower, I feel her fingers close over mine and guide them, as if they were her own. She takes my middle finger and with exaggerated care touches it ever so slightly against her clitoris. Her sharp intake of breath and reluctant exhale are more sexy to me than anyone other than her can possibly know, and my heart thrills and races as her head rolls back limply against my shoulder, and I begin that gentle insistent circling motion she has taught me so well.

Her loss of self has me hard and ready, and I notice my cock is wet with pre-come. I scoop some onto my thumb and touch it to my tongue, checking its sweetness for her. Then I bring more to her lips for her to taste. The thought shocks her several stages closer to orgasm, and soon her hips begin to gyrate and I start to hear that beautiful series of little high pitched gasps I love so much. "Oh, oh, o, O, O-O-O-O-Oh!"

My finger guides her through her first orgasm, and then I need mine, so I roll her over and slip my cock into her in two easy thrusts until I am as deep in her as I can be. Then I begin to move, finding the perfect friction inside her and feeling my sensations build. I am rocking gently in her and I see her hand has replaced mine on her clit between our bodies. Knowing she will come again if I do, I sink down closer and begin to kiss her, our tongues playing cock and quim with each others mouths until I begin to get closer. Then my lips move to her shoulder again, my mouth open and biting a little into the flesh. She begins to moan, and then to whisper in my ear, "Come in me Dreamer, please, please come in me." And I do, jets of semen forced deep into her body by the strength of my orgasm. It triggers her again, bigger and stronger, gasping and crying out my name, and I say her name softly too, that special version of her name that only I use. I tell her I love her, and she says "I know. It's all okay now, just like I promised." Then I lie quietly in her as we both subside, and relax into her arms.

And maybe then I think about a time, somewhere in the past, when I cried because I couldn't be with her, and didn't know how to wait. And I smile, and know it has been worth it.
5 Comments

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