Jun 5
Old Man’s Dream
In the all-too-brief sleep between pee awakenings
We hit it off right away. This was in a small café near the state capital where she was sitting with three others at a table and I was at the counter. It was the end of a long hard day in Bureaucrat Land, and I was tired. She said she was too. One thing led to another; soon we were checking in to a quiet hotel facing Capital Lake.
We went to sleep together easily and peacefully, naked as the day we were born. Her smooth chocolate curves were a stark contrast to my pink hairy bulk as we spooned. At some point, more asleep than awake, I became aware of a thick, pulsing erection against her rump. A slight adjustment of position, an unconscious loosening of her hips to permit access, and I slid snugly home.
Neither of us woke completely; it was the most delicious form of sleep-fuck, not quite awake, slow somnolent copulation as rhythmic and inevitable as an evening tide…then oblivion.
Next thing I was aware of, she was showering while I dozed. Dressing, she said she had an early day and invited me to breakfast. I didn’t have time to shower so I just threw on yesterday's clothes and went. All breakfast, I worried others could detect my ripe body odor.
She told me a little about her work and I was humbled, not my usual state. She worked for the state-court system, helping research and write opinions and decisions, and also was translator of record for defendants with no English. Given the number of languages she mentioned, she was the first true polyglot I ever met. Let alone slept with. Given her evident knowledge of every issue before the courts, maybe a polymath as well. She left me with her card and a quick peck on the lips, saying “call me.”
I headed back to the hotel to shower feeling pretty good. The front-desk clerk said she’d given my wife another key, confusing me. I said she’s not my wife and she went to work, why would she come back here?
“Not your dark girlfriend. Your pale wife,” she said. “A redhead.”
Well that was surreal, and should have tipped me off this was a dream.
Thirty years ago when I worked for the state, my then-wife never drove to the capital to surprise me. Or even when I invited her. She lived her own life at the other end of my 50-mile commute, and capital bureaucratic doings left her indifferent. Hell, me too. But my job paid the bills, so I had to affect an interest.
In the dream I found her asleep in the used bed and went straight into the bathroom. Awake, she would instantly recognize the origin of my ripeness, if the state of the bed had not already tripped her radar. I showered long and hard, and scrubbed thoroughly, and kind of hoped it would turn out to be a dream and she wouldn’t be there when I got out.
No such luck. She was awake when I came out of the shower to dress. She propped up in the pillows and said nothing. In real life I would have wondered how she knew which hotel to look for, because I had not known myself where I would stay. Or even that I would stay instead of commuting home.
Choice of hotel was the polyglot’s — her usual accommodation visiting the capital. The room was in her name. Which awake I cannot recall. Nor can I recall what my wife said, only my surprise when she didn’t act suspicious. I mean come on, I was caught dead-bang.
Before I finished putting on my shoes the dream faded. Or memory of it did.
An odd fragment remains about the front-desk woman’s smiling approval of my liaison, saying I was the first man the polymath ever took to her room, though many court and government big shots had tried to catch her interest. Subconscious self-aggrandizement? Pretty sure the ladies never thought I was all that back before age rendered me a eunuch. But hey, it was my dream. And it sure beats nightmares and frustration dreams.
(Lifelong writer, recent events and ailments have curtailed my creativity and time at the keyboard. This was a writing exercise not unlike the physical therapy I too often avoid. In my late seventies, I spend too much time sitting but not writing. Maybe my subconscious is trying to goad me to action before it’s too late.)
