Lucid orgasms

Admiral Fubar – don’t read this post.

I woke up this morning after pretty powerful lucid dreams.  I haven’t tried to lucid dream in awhile and I felt pretty rusty even forgetting I was dreaming because it felt so real. Though, how could I forget it was a dream when I’m standing in Antarctica with Orlando Bloom and thinking that the ice looked like white glass. He was talking with the penguins and I wandered off to explore the area and found a cottage on a flat plain of ice. White plains as far as the eye could see under harsh arctic light, except for this little cottage with smoke curling out of the chimney.

So I made my way there, and thought “Olri will catch up eventually.” So I trudge across the ice field feeling strangely warm and enter the cottage that looks like it could have been imagined by Thomas Kinkade.  Once inside I am totally at peace.  I strip off my parka and boots and sit in a cozy chair by the fire, and a tiny old woman ambles in and we have this conversation that I don’t really recall the details of, but I evidently discuss with her a thought that’s has been in the back of my brain in real life for quite some time.

*ahem* my sexuality – or lack thereof.

Anywhoo, the wise woman nods her wrinkled head and sagely leaves the room and for a second I feel a little afraid before she returns with – get this – a beautiful and very lifelike dildo.

Holy dildo, Batman!

AAnnywhooo, the old wise woman smiles and says something reassuring then leaves me alone and closes the door behind her. So there I am with a fabulous rubber cock and I wonder – how did I get here?

Next thing I know, I’m in my comfortable bed, my familiar covers and pillows and I think, Oh! Thank god it was just a dream! There’s nothing wrong with me sexually, I just haven’t met anyone who sparks my flame to life. All is well, right? So I think to myself, “hmm. I am actually kind of horny. Let’s go ahead and masturbate. Yeah, what a great idea.” I pull out my trusty steed from under the bed, and go to town in the early hours of morning and as I am having one orgasm after another I think to myself, “God! I don’t have any shame about my body! This is awesome! I don’t have any fears about my safety! Wonderful! I don’t have any hang-ups about really loving someone – I just haven’t found someone I trust enough to get this safe with…” I think I even screamed, as I lost count of the orgasms and fell asleep sated only to have my alarm go off and scare the hell out of me.

I bolted out of bed and realized.

I had not actually been masturbating – I dreamed it all. I lucid dreamed my own bedroom and my own sexual intercourse and my own orgasm. I fucking dreamed my orgasms. Damnit! Then my second thought was just as disorienting, because I went, “Oh, Crap. I left Orlando in Antarctica.”

As I finally woke up enough to realize it had all been a dream, and I drank a couple cups of coffee – the message finally sank in. My subconscious was telling me to relax.  There is nothing wrong with my sexuality.  It is in fact very healthy and vibrant.  I just haven’t found someone I want to share it with yet.  I am enjoying loving myself. I’m enjoying going to the gym, eating well and writing. I’m enjoying being creative and having a full social life and sleeping alone and making my own way without being complicated by anyone else. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and I’ll be spending it with people I care about.  I don’t need to hurry and find a lover. 

I already have one – but I left him in Antarctica.