November 23, 2008 § 1 Comment
Last night I dreamed I was having sex with Stephen Colbert. He was quite enthusiastic, with interesting tastes. I grew fond of him in the course of it, as one does, and wanted him to stay the night, and the next night and forever, but he left me. When I was young I used to have very intense erotic dreams starring invented men whom I felt so connected to emotionally that I’d wake up confused and bereft, the way you’d feel if the moon disappeared and nobody but you remembered that it had ever existed. While I was in therapy I regularly received intriguing come-ons from handsome vampires and scotch-drinking ghosts, but my therapist unkindly insisted I turn them down. Now my dream lovers are either people I know or public figures. I always miss them in the morning. My husband once dreamed a spider crawled out of my vagina. He doesn’t remember this but I’ll never forget it. I think at the time (this was at least 15 years ago) I was scared that he’d seen my dark side, but now I would like to talk to that spider. Maybe she’d have a record of all my erotic adventures—have them on video in her crimson cave, ready to use as teaching tools for her many offspring with their tidy and delicate appendages.