Dreams in Things That I'm Grateful For

Angel

I’m walking down some kind of passage, all I can perceive is a brick wall to my right. Somehow the pathway is lit before me in a way that completely directs my path forward. To the left is empty darkness, but I don’t need to know what’s over there because I’m not meant to go that way.

As I begin traveling forward, I become aware that I’m being followed. I am aware even though I cannot hear any footsteps or see a shadow, I just know. I also know that what or whomever is following me is not a threat. I feel safe.

As I continue forward, I can feel my footfalls becoming lighter, as if touching the ground is an option. It is at this point that I look up, and I see my grandmother smiling above me. She is reaching out her hand, not just guiding me forward, but guiding me up.

The next step I take does not hit the ground, but I feel firm in my step. And I take another, and another. Soon I am climbing higher and higher to the point where I can no longer perceive darkness. I am above the wall and can see the other side which is a beautiful beach, I can even see into the darkness which is also a beach. And the dark waves cascade across the black sand.

My grandmother then says, “Choose.” And I realize that once I can see everything I know that it is all the same, there is no difference other than how I perceive it to be. So I turn toward the darkness.

Tarantula

I awake from sleep in my parents’ house to a hustle and bustle. My little brother’s pet, a giant tarantula roughly the size of a pug, has just given birth to a host of babies. For some reason, we are able to control how many of these babies are released from the egg sac.

I begin petting the father spider, whom I know to be named Armand, and he looks at me with pride. His children begin fanning out and crawling all over my little brothers and me. They are playful and giggling.

Armand crawls up my left arm and rests himself on my left shoulder, locking my shoulder in place. One of his children begins mimicking him by crawling up my right arm and locking my right shoulder in place. Despite the fact that I cannot move my arms at all, I am not afraid.

I turn to Armand and ask him, “How long has it been since you’ve fed?”

Armand sighs and replies, “It has been over a week. I have been so filled with fear that my children might not make it that it has prevented me from feeding.”

I held out my hand and said, “You may feed on me as long as you make sure the children know that they cannot feed on humans without their permission.”

Armand looked at me, “I will make sure they know right from wrong,” and he crawled down my forearm to my hand, unfurled his fangs, and I felt a sharp sting as they bore into my hand. Even through the pain, I felt content.

Surrender

The road is empty as I drive home. Orange bubbles of light accentuate the loneliness of being on the road in the middle of the night. Quiet jazz spills out of the speakers, trying to lull me into loneliness.

But I am not alone.

Jai coos softly as his head rests in my lap, taking in the jazz music while his hand gently massages my balls. My right hand is resting on his back as it slowly works its way down his back. His halter hiked up even higher by his bent over position, with his pants pulled lower and exposing the top of his crevice.

My finger slowly traces its way down that sweet valley, covered in a light fur that instantly pulls the tensions out of my body through my middle finger. I reach his precious hole but I don’t push in, I like the feel of the fuzz. I like the quiet intimacy of it. In this moment he is mine and we comfort one another like this.

But this isn’t a dream, this is real. This is Wednesday night/Thursday morning. But at the same time, it is a dream, because he isn’t mine. He’s only surrendered himself to me for the night, and tomorrow we will break and I will be alone again.

But one day, someone will be mine… and I will be his.