Silky's Inversion
Dreamed 2014/4/24 by Wayan
People tell me my familiar spirit, Silky, is back in town, but I haven't seen her. Is she avoiding me? I don't know why.
I try the spots she frequents--she often likes to hang with the gargoyles on the older churches in town, and with the carved critters on some of the neoclassical buildings in the Civic Center.
But she's not up on the first few buildings I check, and the gargoyles all say they haven't seen her.
At last I spot her in a colored drawing or painting of mine I forgot--a hearth seen in side view, in a large old-fashioned hall. Silky, in one of her favorite forms, a black mare, is standing rampant--but upside down, on the ceiling!
Being a spirit, she can decide what gravity field she wants to honor. Whimsical. That's Silky all over! Funny-looking, but not that outrageous for her.
But several other anomalies do throw me.
Silky likes to be played with. So she obliged!
Whatever feels good, I guess...
NOTES IN THE MORNING
"Five Heart Unicorn", sculpture of a dream figure by Chris Wayan, 2014 |
"Arrival", (dream?) painting by Alex Gross, 2001 |
2016 NOTE:
Today, I think the dream was prompting me to notice something sexual I didn't for another two years, till after I'd finished fine-tuning all four of the furry sex toys I was sculpting: I tried to make every mouth or vagina I built individual, interestingly different, and they were--except for one thing. Every one was at first too tight, too small, because I underestimated the size of my own cock--both length and diameter. (The reverse of every guy in existence! Don't they all think they're more studly than they are? But I underestimate. Consistently.)
I'm not surprised in retrospect. I grew up surrounded by sisters, with a female/androgenous body image--"I'm in a male body", not "I am male." Not gender-dysphoric enough to risk surgery; my intensest longings are for health and vigor that recurring Lyme denied me, so that's what I've focused on. Talk therapy had corrected my self-image, undone my early training to assume that I (and all males) must be sexist, suspect, always at fault in relationships [thanks, mom!]... but Silky's Erection was warning me I still had work to do: to correct my body image too. "Big cock. And that's OK. More than OK. It's good. Those who like them, like them big." And I was unconsciously building my sexy creatures to force that re-evaluation.
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