This morning, I had a dream that just will not quit me. Usually after I ponder for an hour or so, flipping through my dictionary app or through the website I prefer for this task, I figure it out. The thing is that, today, none of the words I’ve focused on to read in the dream dictionary have felt right to me. It’s as though I am trying to building a puzzle, but the picture itself is completely unresolved and no matter how many times I try to look things up, the picture is still completely out of focus. And I think because I can’t make sense of it as clearly as I normally can… this is why it sticks with me. There’s another reason, too, why I think it haunts me but I’ll get to that after I tell about this dream. So, let’s get started.
We were driving in a motorcade. It was a huge, long, snaky line of cars that were all heading in the same direction. I honestly can’t say where we were going or why I was in this motorcade. And it’s not the first time that I’ve dreamed of one, either; even just in this last week I’ve dreamed of being in one. I have never been able to satisfactorily conclude what the meaning behind a motorcade is for me. It wasn’t like we were in solemn procession, as though attending a funeral. There were stops. There was laughter. They were picnics. There were jokes. We were in the country – cows and manure smells; mountains in the distance and green, green grass in the foreground. There wasn’t any indication of where we were heading except that at some point, we would be there.
The thing is that the “head” the motorcade was TH’s stepfather. His mom was there too but she was periphery. It was definitely in the care of his stepfather. In a way, this makes sense. His stepfather is a man I associate with raw power, magnetism, and able to plan. He was a firefighter for years and years and years; that had to have given him a leg up somehow in the creation of such huge enterprises, such as a very large motorcade traveling through… somewhere. He’s also the one who always claims he “knows how to get there,” which invariably ends up with people getting lost. But in this dream, he really did know where he was going and how to get there. He was periphery for the most part of the dream, but his essence or aura or emotional associations were vaguely present no matter where I was in the motorcade.
We made frequent stops, as I said. There were hundreds of us and we would all go off and do our own things. I’m not sure if we would camp at night or stop at houses – it doesn’t matter. The rest of the people in this large traveling train were mostly unknown to me. They were faceless, for the most part. Later, I would learn the name of one – and I do know the name of this person and this person, as a real, live breathing human being – but they were nothing to me. At one stop, a strong armed young man flirted with me. I was nonplussed. He was towheaded with bright blue eyes. He was tall and imposing and what I tend to assume the general “popular” look and feel to people. He was listened to and admired by others. This is why I was unimpressed with his flirtation. He was not for me and I knew this.
He continued his flirtations throughout the trip, though.
At one point, at one stop, we were all staying in a house. Or maybe, I was staying in a house. It was the house of Niantic* from my childhood. I was in the back bedroom, or that was where I was going to be staying. The young man was there with a dark haired female. They were both utterly naked and he was inviting me to join them. I was both intrigued and completely alienated by the experience. On the one hand, I wanted to join them very much. It seemed like a good time and it wasn’t like any danger would come from this moment. It was as though I knew that this was a one-time thing. It was gift to me. He was trying to pursue me, to woo me, in any way manageable. This threesome was a gift, too. But I was turned off because, in reality, I’ve come to see myself as asexual and I have implicitly strict control over my sexual wants and desires. A childish belief that “sex is dirty” kept overshadowing the little bits I joined in on until finally, I left the room. I never said a word – and neither did they – but he must have understood.
The next time he found me to pursue me there were no female delectable gifts in the offing. It was just he and I. We were feeding a cow some long stemmed grass. I have never been near a cow, in reality, or fed it anything, but it was a peaceful moment. Later, that night, he came to me in a room I was staying in. And we had sex. It was gorgeous, beautiful, and exciting. I rode him like he was a horse and he reached down to touch me in that electric place. And I felt like I was filled with wild abandon. It was a nice moment. It wasn’t a forever thing. This pursuit was just something in the here and now. There would be no future relationships or consequences. It was just what I needed to release and to be free.
The motorcade ended and this is the first time that speech actually entered the dream. We were at TH’s parents’ home. The whole long huge summit of cars were gone, but there was a huge crowd. In that moment, TH’s stepfather came out of the garage to announce that one of our number – a boy I went to college with the second time around – had to go down to Connecticut because his girlfriend was giving birth to a baby and we had to all hope that everyone came out of that okay. And that was when I woke up.
Part of the reason, I think, that the dream stays with me to this moment is because of the general feeling of good will and peace that was rife within the dream. The moment with the cow in the pasture is only one of a thousand little moments where I felt content for once. And I think it was that feeling, more than just the fact that I can’t figure out what this all means, that this dream sticks with me. Perhaps it will be a solace of sorts when things get out of balance in my life (as they almost entirely are every second of the day). Maybe it was a gift, the dream itself, to keep me more sane than I’ve been feeling lately. Or maybe it was just a way for my subconscious to remind me that there are days and days where I feel completely out of control when I shouldn’t.
I don’t know.
I will tell you this.
Aside from the desire to understand what this motorcade was about, I have to admit that in writing this dream out to the masses, the popular boy has stayed with me (and not just because of the thrilling dream orgasms). When I first woke, I thought he was a stand in for how I used to view and feel about TH. But that never seemed quite correct, either. He never actively pursued me in any way. We danced a dance around one another until one moment, we broke the imagined distance that separated us. But while I was writing about him and the sexual moments with this unknown boy, I realized that elements of it represent or mirror moments that I had with a certain high school ex-boyfriend who I am friendly with to this day. (He deserves his own shadow work, this boy, although the entirety of our relationship was not awful. In the grand scheme of things, it was completely nonfunctional and parasitic, but it kept me sane in a time where insanity loomed constantly within my reach.) I’m not sure if it was the sexual freedom I felt back then, with him, that I’m to focus on or if it’s more than that.
You see, this sex stuff has made me think more clearly about things than I normally have. It’s the act of being wooed so to speak that gives me a more sexual freedom than I have on a regular basis. I’m not sure what it is about it but there is something in the act of being pursued by another that makes it easier for me to open myself up to sex. This dream could also be my clue that I want to be pursued. I don’t feel like I can be or should be, especially by strong-armed young men. After an intensely miserable time last night where my self-esteem ended up not just in the toilet but irretrievably flushed down said toilet, I curled into a ball and ignored it. My body image has always been bad – even when I was little more than a hundred pounds, all told – but it has only suffered as time went by and the weight I’ve tried to get rid of has either stuck around or come back.
I may be at the giving up point in all of that.
But in thinking about my self image and my self esteem, I’ve come to realize that I don’t really believe that I deserve to be pursued. Not in a sexual sense, but in a general romantic one.
This dream has repercussions all across my mind and throughout my body. On the one hand, it was calming and freeing and like a little vacation from the vagaries of life. On the other hand, it has opened up so many more questions than I could ever hope of answering. All I do know is that I want to know what the hell I keep doing, dreaming about motorcades, and why someone who is strongly beginning to identify as an asexual would require a sex dream.
* Niantic, Connecticut. My great-grandmother owned a house out there for who knows how long. In the summers, if we were lucky, we would be able to rent it for a week or two. I know we didn’t spend a lot of time there because there were a ton of grandkids and great-grandkids who all wanted to spend time there during the summer. As a child, I tended to believe that since my father was dead and there were living grandchildren to let stay in the house, we were given the dregs if anything at all. This is why I spent a week out of my summers in Misquamicut, RI instead of in Connecticut. The thing is that I can still very vividly recall that house – which is still in the family but I’ve only been to once since my childhood – and it was in the back bedroom that I stayed one week in summer as a youth with my childhood best friend, Meg, that I can recall. I believe it was called the “blue bedroom” to distinguish it from the “flower bedroom” next door. It was that room, the blue one, that I was in when the strong-armed boy offered me the dark-haired girl as a gift.