Dreamed 1990/7/30 by Chris Wayan
I'm driving my old VW bus through desert hills. My dad's with me. It's a rough dirt track, not a true road. Gas is getting low, and I'm nervous. Should have brought more. On one crumbly, slippery slope the van gets stuck--we have to get out and push. At last, at the top, I park in amazement. Not at the miles of multicolored crags all around, but at the nearby rocks: they're a maze inset with brilliant-colored intrusions--fire opal? Start to see images in the patterns, and realize it's native art--ancient pictographs recut with more precious materials by modern tribal members. A small stand up the road sells copies of the designs on T shirts...
My father conspiratorially points out one motif he considers obscene. A human figure carrying another, with the lifter's face deep in the lifted one's crotch--either face up her cunt, or deep-throating an entire cock. It's impossible to tell their genders, and somehow I think there's more to it than the sex my dad sees.
Back in town, I ask my Asian meditation teacher to explain the image. She tells me "Oh, that! It's not sex; it's a native meditation technique called being swallowed."
I decide to try letting myself be swallowed, so I go visit my cousin Barbara. I'm attracted to her, but she's getting married soon, so she won't keep me swallowed long. A controlled case, before I let anyone else try it on me. She doesn't mind if I don't...
So I do as my teacher described: turn myself into a smallish furry dog, and crawl head-first down her throat.
I just fit. Strangely, I can breathe if I stay calm: my physical body, dreaming in bed, gets enough oxygen for my dream-self too. I go deeper and deeper. My little paws tickle her from inside, poking around for someplace that turns her on, some oral G-spot.
I emerge at last, marinated in drool but feeling rather cheerful. To find... my dad and my meditation teacher, discussing exactly the technique I just tried! They didn't notice me though, and refuse to believe I did it. "How could you possibly fit?"
I say "I'll do it again to prove it." Assume my teacher will swallow me, which I don't mind, she's kind of cute... but they argue about it for a while and finally choose my dad to swallow me. I'm not so comfortable with this! But I go ahead, prepare to transform again... even though I find his throat disgusting. "Ugh" I say, delaying... "Carnivore breath!"
And it's no lie. If you have a choice, get swallowed by a vegetarian.
"Yet," they point out, "Your cousin eats meat, and you didn't mind HER throat." Logic, schmogic. She didn't stink. Yet they're my dad and my spiritual teacher! Don't I trust them?
And so, reluctant but unwilling to back down, a droop-tail soggy doggy, I crawl down my father's throat.
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