I wish I had been asked some of these questions closer to when I actually woke up. But I'll do the best I can:
'Survivor' Aspects
It was like the game, but it wasn't. There was difficult stuff to be accomplished, but I don't remember a winner or loser. I don't remember doing so much as seeing. That's a common element of many of my dreams: I see myself observing things but not understanding why they happen. What I remember was outdoors and involved building structures. Was it my team or was I there but only watching? They were all girls, on my team. The competition got people dirty. One last element of the game meant one girl was unable to take a shower. Another woman/team-mate/my partner? took her to a hotel room to get cleaned up. There weren't any cameras, it just sorta resembled what I've seen on TV.
Lots of Girls
All of my dreams involve girls. Well, let's just say a majority that I remember. I feel emotionally close to them all. Sometimes there is a great deal of sexual tension, but rarely full-on sex. I've never had an orgasm while dreaming. Although as a teen boy, I did have "wet dreams." I never remembered any sexual dreams from that time in my life. My assumption was that I didn't have sexual dreams. The many girls were in the Survivor part of the dream. I don't recall that any of them especially stood out to me in that dream. I only find it remarkable in that I seemed to be the only boy.
Girls—women—have always been alluring to me. I used to be particularly bad at letting my gaze follow attractive women. That's been... corrected. Mostly. But don't think I don't notice. God, do I love to make eye contact! I'm sure I'm just scaring people, but I hope not.
I remember one time, being at a public flower show in an auditorium of a large local department store chain. I found myself wondering off slightly away from the crowd in the same direction as this attractive woman I had been making eye contact with. We were both on a trajectory to "look at" the same group of flowers. I had the urge to start talking to her when suddenly I realized what I was doing. I sort of stopped dead and started to look around. Whatever male she was with was looking none-too-happy and also looking at me. I just turned around... and walked back to my wife. I was there with her, after all. We had been married for five or six years by then. I don't think she saw anything. It's not unlike me to pause too long in a place like that or sometimes move ahead alone without thinking... so I'm sure she must have assumed that.
Maybe I'm supposed to learn I can't have them all or something... I don't know. Clearly I have issues. My addiction to fantasy imagery is certainly just a symptom of something else, no doubt.
That reminds me, I'm supposed to check out a book called "Don't Call It love." My sponsor says that most of my personal background is textbook for a predisposition to addictive behaviors. You know, I used to think (in my teens) that I was so much better than people who smoked or drank or did drugs. I did none of those things. Until college. In college I drank stupid wine coolers. God did I feel like crap after that! But I've still never smoked a cigarette. I have smoked Marijuana, but I was like 32 or 33 at the time. The mushrooms I ate that night had a much more profound effect than anything else I've ever had before or since. I would do them again any time... You see?
Just don't offer me a cigarette. I would probably like it and I don't need that. They killed my grandfather. He stopped several times. When I smell cigarette smoke, I have good associations with my grandfather. So don't offer me a cig. I find it very difficult to say no. But most people see me as straight-laced and uptight. So that usually isn't a problem.
Building a House?
It started as a really simple room, but over the course of the dream it became increasingly sophisticated. None of the work happened on front of me, and the work had finished before the characteristics of the room changed. The room was dark and simple. I single coat of paint over unfinished wood. Curtains had been put in the windows, but had the same coat of paint on them. Although it was bright outside of the room, it was dark inside.
I remember the main builder of the room (He looked like Ethan from Survivor Africa) taking measurements to see of we had met the requirements of this part of the competition. I complemented him on the placement of one of the ceiling lights, because although it was not in the center of the ceiling, it had been placed directly over the center of the conversation area we and several team-members were seated in, then. My Dad was one of the people in the room. I don't know why, other than that he is the one person in my life who has ever taught me tradesman-related skills. I don't recall interacting with him directly, though. He seemed concerned with how things were proceeding, sort of watching or monitoring. I guess it seemed good that he was there—it wasn't negative.
I remember being concerned with the placement of lots of other lights in the room. I demonstrated to myself as much as to others why they were necessary. They lit areas better than a single overhead light could have.
'Cafeteria Girl'
This part seemed like history repeating itself. It looked like her, the one I obsessed over originally when I first wrote BAMS on Blogger.
It felt like (way back then) she was still interested in me at some level. I'm sure that's just wishful thinking on my part. Yet, it seemed like I got more than one chance to interact with her when she could easily have avoided me had she wished to do so.
There were many things I wanted which conflicted in me. First of all, I did not want to be involved romantically or even just sexually with anyone at work. I know how people gossip and I didn't want to be the subject of it. I didn't want to be seen as a cheater, or as opportunistic. And I really did not want to be sued with sexual harrassment if I was oh-so-wrong. So I thought the only thing I could do was have all of these insane feelings but tell no one. Some of my friends knew some of it, but to my knowledge, none of them knew all of the details. If they do know, I don't want to know. I would be embarrassed at thinking at was really hiding anything.
In the dream, I knew she was in the crowded cafeteria. I saw her on the way in. The lines inevitably moved in such a way that she and a were face-to-face for a moment. I showed no emotion on my face, just tried to shut her out. I'm too afraid to find out I was wrong. Too afraid to find out I was right and didn't take the chance.
I'm not certain what the dream she was in had to do with the others, if anything. Clearly I still haven't come to terms with the issues my feelings for her raised in my life.
The Spanking
It was dark in this part. Literally black. I didn't see or hear as much as feel. I remember striking again and again, not feeling that I was doing it in a way that I was happy with. I remember the feeling of the muscles in my arms and shoulders as I swung. I used both hands but at different times. I remember finally thinking that I had learned where to position myself, how to swing, and how to hold my hand. I didn't want it to just make noise, or just to be a hit. I wanted it to sting. I knew I was doing it righ when it hurt my hand. There was a specific sensation I was looking for. When I got it, then I was done.
I don't know what all of this means, really. There was so much more that happened in my dreams, but those are really the details I can remember.
Does that help?
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