Archive for dreamstate


Posted in writing with tags , , , , , , on January 8, 2017 by kimmy


Although my imagination tends to embellish more than I care to admit, this time he appeared more handsome and seductive than in my most fevered dreams.

Was it the lazy way he lounged against the elevator wall as it slowly lowered us to the ground, or the gently possessive curl of his fingers around my wrist that made me sweat? I wasn’t sure. The only thing of which I was certain was that my desire would never be satisfied; that this was only another one of our endless erotic preambles that invariably concluded with nothing.

For many years, too many to count, he has prowled my dreams. Like a jaguar, sleek and dark, rousing both apprehension and desire so often that the two chase each other in a never-ending circle. Predator and prey always in motion, neither captured nor capturing. And for all these many years, I blamed myself for not yielding, for not allowing the cat to savage my body and satisfy his need.

But he is and always has been a cruel hunter, not availing himself of easy game, but reserving his attention for only the choicest morsels, those who embody closest his ideal of physical perfection. And I, alas, never conformed to those lofty standards and was, in both life and dream, judged to be wanting.

Yet despite my imperfection, he maintains his irregular orbit. Sometimes so distant that I wither and freeze; and at other times, as tonight, I burn.

And so this chase would continue unabated, as it has done for decades, if not for those fingers snaking around my wrist and his dark eyes prodding me to begin my flight. I suddenly halted the game. The elevator had finally reached the ground floor and it was, at long last, time to exit.

I stepped out and the doors closed behind me, carrying him away to places I neither know nor care. The goddess may be generous and willing to forgive the constant rejection of her bounty, but even She can become weary of the game.



Posted in writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 4, 2011 by kimmy


I had the strangest dream last night.  Seated across from me in a dark and rundown coffee shop, was a man once dear now relegated to the past.  He seemed older than I remember, careworn and withered, nearly as faded as the peeling vinyl under me.  We sat in a booth festooned with cobwebs; the cups before us were empty and chipped.  Like movie noire, everything was in shades of grey… a departure from my usually florid Cinescope nighttime fare.   

I couldn’t recall how I got there, only that the interface required my attention.  I complied… somewhat unwillingly given the topic, and tuned into his voice.  He was asking me to take him back on the same terms and to return to the inappropriate place I once occupied.

It was a nervy request, but one without apparent guile… sort of like the man himself, or the man everyone save me knows him to be.  But I know him, perhaps better than anyone alive, and am intimately acquainted with his character.  It is not one I wish further acquaintance, ergo the plea to reconsider. 

I wondered why someone would choose this medium to make his intent known.  Surely the subjective nature of dreamstate makes it unreliable for communication.  I mean, who can really decipher the crazy symbology?  Yet here was one, determined to make a go of it and blissfully certain of the outcome, too.

Don’t get me wrong: I have a well-developed fantasy life and it nearly got the best of me.  I understand the pitfalls of such and have learned (the hard way) that expectation and reality rarely meet.  That’s why it’s so important to savor the life that one actually has, or be forever marooned on a mental atoll.  It requires attention and focus on the present, not some stylized version of it.

Those who maneuver through subtle realms might think they can outwit karma and try to live a parallel life.  Maybe that is possible in theory, but it still requires willing participants.  It is no longer a private fantasy, but a shared one and therefore subject to the demands (or refusals) of others.  It becomes just as confused and unpredictable as real life, and just as prone to karma production.  

Thus the real question is posed:  Is your life so awful that you’re ready to risk racking up karmic charges from two locations?  If so, maybe your attention is better served in dealing with mess you have now than the mess you’ll create later.


Posted in personal, writing with tags , , , , , , , , on October 22, 2010 by kimmy

Get behind it.  And I mean NOW…

Your all-access pass was revoked the day you voluntarily surrendered it, so don’t try to climb over the barrier.  I have enlisted the aid of large burly men -and one particularly vengeful seraphim- to act as bouncers and they will be delighted to throw you out on your ass… provided you have one after they’ve finished.

Stop with the lame explanations.  It’s not as if you didn’t have it coming.  You’ve been lurking around like a thief in the night and and helping yourself to that which is not yours.  I’m tired of it.  Who said you were welcome?  Get back behind the rope and stay there.

It’s obvious you’re accustomed to having your own way and not being denied anything.  Get used to defeat, my friend, because you’ll never win this one.  There are some lines that cannot be crossed even for those who never observe boundaries, and you’ve crossed the last one.   

You’ve managed to avoid discovery by assigning blame or denial, but that won’t work with me.  Consequence follows action in this world.   It doesn’t matter how convincingly you plead your case, the outcome will not change, so heed my warning and back off. 

I don’t care if you object.  This is not yours to decide.  You’ve crashed my VIP lounge for the very last time.


Posted in fiction, musings, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 17, 2010 by kimmy

The invitation was rescinded long ago, yet he continues to drop in unannounced.  He skulks along the perifory, either alone or with his unholy companion, until he sees an opportunity.  He leaps, but seizes nothing.  I’ve eluded him once again.

He’ll never catch me.  It doesn’t matter how clever he is, I always know when he’s around.  His presence is a toxic wave that sends its selfish intention before it.  That alone prompts me to action and I’m gone even before he steals in.

Confidence will be his downfall.  He overestimates his ability and thinks that he’ll easily regain what he casually lost.  He’s mistaken, but because he’s never been seriously challenged, he’ll continue his fruitless assaults until I confront him.

There will be no mercy when I do.  I will wield my sword and cut him down even before he can utter a word.

For I am weary of his intrusions and inflated sense of importance.  What he took was gotten by deceit and no pretty words will convince me otherwise.   Only his head, rolling free from his body, will guarantee that the nightstalking is at an end.


Posted in musings, personal with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 5, 2009 by kimmy

I absolutely did not want to get out of bed this morning, being caught up in a dream so vivid and sensual that I wasn’t sure where I was.  When the alarm sounded, I wanted to throw it across the room for daring to interrupt.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t return to that moment.  It was like a soap bubble that once punctured could not be remade.  But as fleeting as it was, the effects are long term.  I am, hours later, still plagued by vision and deep-seated longing.

It would be easy to dismiss this as an act of the overly-imaginative, but why?  Is the activity of the subconscious mind unimportant?  Or does its non-linear nature disturb us so profoundly that we disregard its messages?

Granted, it’s difficult to reconcile two seemingly disparate factions.  If your waking and dreaming minds are at odds, then your behavior must be tailored to the medium in which you operate.  Clearly, we cannot move from one impulsive act to another without carefully weighing the consequences, but dreamstate eliminates them.  You are free to act from the deepest part of self, exploring scenarios which otherwise might be off-limits.

And was do your secret activities say about you?  Are you repressed and only able to express creativity and emotion in the privacy of your own head?  Or, are you problem-solving and making sense of your life through strange metaphor?  More importantly, how have you integrated what you’ve learned into your life?

If you’re like most people, dreams are just pleasant (or occasionally terrifying) diversions to which you attach no significance.  Think of all the dismissive commentary that comes to mind.  It was just a dream.  Just ignore everything and learn to mistrust yourself.  Go back to sleep.  Like that will make a difference?  There are no such things as monsters under the bed.  They only exist in the bed, and are usually parked next to you.

Worse yet are the condemnations of the uplifting dreams.  It’s just a pipedream.  Happiness is only for the stoned?  You’re dreaming your life away.  I thought I was devising ways of making it better.  You’re just a dreamer.   True, but only if I believe that the sole measure of success is that obtained by mindless adherence to corporate principles and the utter disregard for the soul’s yearning for truth.

I’m not going to limit myself and pick through the crumbs offered by external reality.  I’ve seen no evidence that living by its code unifies the world’s inhabitants.  Much to the contrary, they are being slowly ripped apart and devoured by the same entities that promise deliverance.  I will not add myself to the feast.

If that makes me a dreamer by default, so be it.  I accept my lot and embrace the happy dreams that both waking and sleeping provide.