You know when a dream is so real you wake up feeling pissed-off, scared, or whatever? Well, a couple of months ago I had one of those, only I woke up feeling confused and mildly uncomfortable. The worst dreams involve co-workers and sex, and that was the exact combination in my dream. Oh, and a dusting of lesbian sex. Side note: I’m not a lesbian and have never had a lesbian experience. Nothing against it, I’m just far too into penises. But, damn did my subconscious try converting me.
After my body floated into REM sleep, I found myself at a dinner party at my aunt’s house. There was a slew of people there, including my boyfriend (at the time) and co-worker, Shelly. It’s interesting that I dreamed about Shelly because the only interactions we had were her coming into my office, dumping her personal problems on me and then leaving. Well, at least she felt better, right? And me telling you that Shelly is unattractive is a considerable understatement. She’s short, like can’t ride amusement park rides short and has teeth that would tear of cob of corn up. Just so you know, I am one of those women who can appreciate beautiful women, but sadly this was not the case.
So, back to dinner. Well, what we ate is foggy and unimportant. The real meal came later. Next thing I knew, I was in the study with my boyfriend, Shelly and her man and the party of four was about to be cut in half. Shelly and I were huddled in the corner, whispering and our boyfriends quickly excused themselves. As if a fire alarm went off, I dropped to the floor and rolled over; Shelly perched over me.
In my dreams I must be irresistible because Shelly was ravaging me like it was her job. And I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed it – until I was overcome with thoughts of me having to do the same to her. Even my subconscious knows the rules of oral: You must reciprocate. So while Shelly headed south and navigated her tongue into my lady flower, I was dreading what was coming next.
And next came way too soon. I was awkwardly on top of Shelly, fumbling around. Her body was not a playground; it was more like an insanely intricate maze. My mind was swirling with thoughts about what I was actually supposed to do and how. I knew how I liked to be handled down there but I didn’t know how to do it—and frankly, I didn’t really wanna. It’s sort of like knowing you like lemon coconut cake, but haven’t the slightest idea of how to bake it. Having never been in this situation before, I was incredibly self-conscious. I’ve faked a lot of things in my life, but was lost at how to fake this. So, I stalled.
I lingered around Shelly’s neck, traveled down to her navel area, and then went right back to her neck. I sensed her annoyance. Apparently in my dreams, Shelly has no tolerance for novices. She scoffed at my lack of skills, tossed me aside and left. The blow to my ego woke me up.
The next morning I saw Shelly at work, well sort of. I was totally avoiding eye contact, so it was out of my peripheral vision. Per usual, she popped in my office and spilled her guts. This time I was happy to listen: Shelly accepted a job out of state and put her two weeks in. I was thrilled and spent the next six hours, with my door closed, Googling “lesbian dreams.”
Turns out, my dream had nothing to do with sex. It actually represented a conflict I was experiencing in a personal relationship and how I felt confused and grappled with making the right decision. The intimacy of sex was a symbol of me getting more in touch with my feelings. Apparently getting rejected by Shelly toughened me up a bit and I was able to make the right decision and leave that relationship. Aah, if only I could solve all my problems with sex.
