Dream of: 08 December 1986 (2) "God Came Up ..."
While three people were in a room with me – a woman who was my mother (not my actual mother), a girl who was my sister (not my actual sister), and another person – my mother began describing to the other person some sexual acts in which my mother and I had engaged together. After listening a short while, I asked my mother to accompany me to another room. I walked from the room we were in, walked through an adjacent room and stopped in the following room. My mother followed.
Once we were alone, I immediately began chastising her for talking about our sexual relations to the other person, especially in front of my sister, who I thought had been deeply embarrassed by the talk. At the same time, as I spoke, I reached out and began squeezing my mother's breasts. She turned around so her back was to me and she pressed against me. Continuing to feel her breasts, I also ran my hand down between her legs.
Over a mantel in front of us hung a large mirror in which I could plainly see both our reflections. My mother (probably in her early 30s) had black shoulder-length hair and was dressed in a yellow sweater and blue jeans.
Disgusted with myself for engaging in sex with her, I continued talking and telling her about my feelings. As I looked at the reflection of myself caressing her in the mirror, I mumbled, "This is sick."
Although ashamed of my actions, I felt compelled to continue. I quickly inveigled her to slip down her pants and bend over on her knees. As she complied, I rapidly pulled down my pants and in an instant decided to insert my penis into her rectum – something I had never done before. After thrusting my penis in about a fifth of its length, I detected something resembling Vaseline in her rectum, a substance which allowed my penis to slide fairly freely. As I looked down at myself, I felt extremely uncomfortable and utterly unhappy with myself. Disconsolate, I abruptly stopped, stood back up and pulled up my pants.
Suddenly it occurred to me I had been dreaming. On one hand I was relieved I hadn't actually performed such a despicably sordid act; on the other hand I was chagrined by the heinous dream. I had just begun writing a new book of dreams and this was exactly the kind of pornographic dream I had wanted to avoid, the kind of squalid dream which I hadn't wanted to include in my book. And now here it was! I was unsure whether I would even write it.
When I walked out onto the porch of the house, my mother followed. As we stood on the porch, a small child which belonged to my mother suddenly romped out of the house. Although the child was a baby boy not more that a year old, it ran like a much older child and seemed to already understand language well. In a flash the baby darted off the porch onto the sidewalk and headed for the corner of the street. My mother ran after the refractory child, screaming for it to stop; but it continued to the corner, made a sharp right turn and disappeared behind some houses.
Thinking I could cut across a vacant lot and intercept the child, I also started running. But when I suddenly heard my mother talking to the infant, I looked back toward her and saw the child walking slowly toward her. I crept back toward the child until I was close enough to grab it.
Now that we had the child in custody, my mother and I both believed it should be punished. Seizing its feet, I held the child upside down in the air. My mother picked up a switch and flogged the child as hard as she could four or five times on its rear. The baby shrieked and cried furiously. I finally became afraid my mother might injure child – she was striking it so hard – and I pulled it away. However I thought I should also spank the child. I picked up a small switch and whacked the baby once on the rear, but not as hard as my mother had. At the same time, I demanded, "Why didn't you come when mommie called?"
The baby wailed a moment, then stopped. I was getting ready to strike it again, when suddenly I noticed a man storming across the vacant lot toward me. Feeling guilty about the way I had been handling the baby, I stopped thrashing it and instead simply began shaking it. It cried for a moment, then stopped again.
The powerful-appearing man (probably in his late 30s) had short blond hair and blue eyes. Almost upon me, he seemed extremely concerned by my handling of the baby. I immediately knew he was some kind of preacher. As he marched up beside me, I starred straight into his interceding eyes and detected a strong sense of concern radiating from him. He pulled up next to me, wrapped his right arm around me and spoke. His face was right next to my left ear and as he spoke, he almost seemed to bury his lips into my hair. He continued talking, .".. but the strangest thing happened – God came up and said ...."
I was quite moved by his speech. He was describing a transcendental experience in which God had communicated with someone. His last words describing God's message seemed snarled and tangled to me, but somehow made sense.
I wanted to tell him that I understood, that I also had recently felt God communicating with, and that I thought I should find someone like him to join in endeavoring to follow God's voice. But I also felt weak and unclean. That very day, even after I heard God communicating with me, I had performed some despicable act which had drained me of strength and sullied my soul. Nevertheless I still felt that God was with me and that it wasn't too late to listen.
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