midnightlamp
Active member
- Joined
- Jan 7, 2008
- Messages
- 25
- Reaction score
- 0
I spend perhaps 98% of my time without any human contact during breaks from school, and during those times I thoroughly enjoy thinking and writhing in incomparable agony.
The other day I had a dream about a girl I'm intensely interested in; I think I've had dreams about every girl I've ever been heavily interested in for the past ten years -- yes, I'm 18 years old, but both my emotional response to feelings of 'love' and my amount of experience in the fulfillment thereof have hardly changed on any significant level regarding primitiveness and actuality, respectively. With that in mind, I should like to think I'll be able to continue without any reservations tied to any perceived puerility.
The dreams I have about girls that I've been strongly attracted to for quite long whiles are never of an overtly sexual nature. The one I had the other night (or day, what have you; it was 2:00 AM, and my brain couldn't even process anything anyhow) comprised an old female friend of mine walking by; I instantly 'knew' (in that sense of 'knowing' that exists only in the pure intuition of dreams) that she was interested in me, yet I was not particularly interested in her. I was interested in the girl I'm about to mention: The girl who walked into the kitchen and sat beside the wall with a timid splendor as I stood with an elation rooted in the prospect of affection. She pointed toward the staircase -- I do not recall there being any sound in the dream -- and I knowingly began to go up the stairs. She followed, and she ended up on my bed in my room as I locked the door. I remember standing there in the relative darkness with a considerably hard erection, but I only say that to lead up to the former point I made: As difficult as it may be to understand or receive with any shred of veracity, I had absolutely no intention of doing anything of an overtly sexual nature with her. I knew it in the dream, I knew it immediately upon waking, and I know it now. I wanted to lie with her. I wanted to wrap one arm around her back and gently raise the hand of the other to her face and lie; I wanted to lie in what I see as the epitome of pure physical affection so that we would both share in its joy, unfettered by external fears and anxieties instilled in our minds by whatever comparably frivolous circumstances may have been in the dreamland's existence. Then why the erection? I think living for 18 years while only having a pillow to fulfill the aforementioned fantasy on a fairly infrequent basis might have a good deal to do with it.
Some odd months ago I was still entranced by a girl I had seen one time in the previous year. I met her at a supermarket, a single prolonged stare constituting the said meeting. She simply gazed into my eyes for an upwards of five seconds, and she had me. I didn't see her till about ten months later, when I had finally found out how to contact her online and sent her a relatively elaborate letter. I don't want anyone here to suffer from death by ennui as a result of my drab and miserable storytelling drudgery, so in a word: I had a chance with her, and I blew it. I thought about her for perhaps several months afterward, and in that time I also dreamt of her.
My favorite dream involving that particular girl lasted about seven seconds (and no, it was not a sexual dream, although I'm fairly certain that the allotted time is fairly generous regarding my presumable 'capacity'), and it entailed the two of us, flank to flank, on a couch in the family room. I could feel her warmth radiating beside me, and in a quiet tone I said, "I've never done this before," referring in a literal sense exclusively to the act that I have just mentioned.
The most overt was with the former girl, and it was before the first dream I've so kindly
recollected for you: I was lying next to her on a couch, and she slowly moved toward me -- the slightest feeling of any part of her body -- which was quite completely clothed, I might add in order to dispel any perverse notions -- was electrifying, and it all skyrocketed into nonpareil bliss when I felt her kiss my neck. I woke up almost immediately after, and I felt quite upset and listless as I usually do when this sort of fantastical indulgence drains me.
My point in relaying all of this rambling nonsense is...well, to be honest, I'm not really sure. Of all the negativity and disgust I hold for my own character and abilities regarding any endeavor in general, I can say that I do hold myself in high regard for one enterprise: Meandering. With that in mind, let me try to formulate some sort of meaning from the foregoing remarks.
I look at that type of love as primeval. I have written a short essay, entirely in the first person and the present tense, describing exactly what my ideal romantic fulfillment would entail. It is hardly summated by anything I've said thus far, but that is perhaps not necessary to mention. I just didn't want to come across as an immature or intellectually parochial -- to an embarrassing degree -- youth, although I find trying to hide that conviction an equivocation in and of itself.
Moving on from my remarkable ability to divagate into nonsense, I'm feeling restricted in my passions. I am truly happy only when I am playing guitar or writing, and not producing garbage; I mean I am only truly happy when I am fully engaged in creativity and am able to produce something that I think just might be worth a little less than half a ****. So why do I have these desires? I surely desire a woman with whom I could connect with on all conceivable levels -- that is of utmost importance to me. I care not at all to 'lie' with any woman of whose presence fails to astonish me in any interesting way, and this of course can refer to anything. In a word, I want true love. I want to be immersed in another woman's life without either of us becoming dependent on one another; I want us to experience each others' lenitive caresses, warm embraces, and innocently burning stares. I want us to flow into perfect harmony regarding perspective, even if they be completely different from one another; I first and foremost want to comprehend and experience her mind, her soul, and her body as a unique human being to be cherished, revered, and loved for the remainder of my existence, and to the highest degree that is within my realm of ability.
My dreams are then, naturally, primeval. I yearn for physical affection; however, there is that added level that I feel a pseudo-deep connection with these women, even though I've never truly conversed with one of them. Perhaps they aren't primeval, then? I'm really not sure. What was I talking about?
I'm enjoying my isolation, and I would like to have that prevail. I fear that if I do become involved with anyone in any intimate way, I'll grow attached and my creative ability or level of production will diminish to unacceptable degrees. I'm hardly producing anything as it is, and if I lost any more I would essentially be a sedentary blob of coagulating ooze. I just don't know what I want, and I'm trying to convince myself that I'm not good for anyone and that no one is good for me. I like to think that I'm better off living in isolation and trying to produce for other people so that my life will have purpose, just not for my own enjoyment. As William Hazlitt wrote in his essay "On the Love of Life," "The strength of passion seldom corresponds to the strength we find in its indulgence." Or something like that. In any case, it makes sense to me. Furthermore, my agony now is most likely far less than what it would be if I got into a loving relationship and lost it without being ready. I also understand the converse, which is that my potential for happiness is at least halved, but I think I'll be okay with that should I continue to wring enjoyment out of whatever passionate endeavor it is I'm attempting to succeed in, even though it's perhaps doomed to perpetually be to no avail.
I'd like to say more, but I think this post has run its course. I'd rather not bog people down with my own ramblings, but I've done that for years with the same fruitless result every time. I suppose one more won't hurt then, eh?
The other day I had a dream about a girl I'm intensely interested in; I think I've had dreams about every girl I've ever been heavily interested in for the past ten years -- yes, I'm 18 years old, but both my emotional response to feelings of 'love' and my amount of experience in the fulfillment thereof have hardly changed on any significant level regarding primitiveness and actuality, respectively. With that in mind, I should like to think I'll be able to continue without any reservations tied to any perceived puerility.
The dreams I have about girls that I've been strongly attracted to for quite long whiles are never of an overtly sexual nature. The one I had the other night (or day, what have you; it was 2:00 AM, and my brain couldn't even process anything anyhow) comprised an old female friend of mine walking by; I instantly 'knew' (in that sense of 'knowing' that exists only in the pure intuition of dreams) that she was interested in me, yet I was not particularly interested in her. I was interested in the girl I'm about to mention: The girl who walked into the kitchen and sat beside the wall with a timid splendor as I stood with an elation rooted in the prospect of affection. She pointed toward the staircase -- I do not recall there being any sound in the dream -- and I knowingly began to go up the stairs. She followed, and she ended up on my bed in my room as I locked the door. I remember standing there in the relative darkness with a considerably hard erection, but I only say that to lead up to the former point I made: As difficult as it may be to understand or receive with any shred of veracity, I had absolutely no intention of doing anything of an overtly sexual nature with her. I knew it in the dream, I knew it immediately upon waking, and I know it now. I wanted to lie with her. I wanted to wrap one arm around her back and gently raise the hand of the other to her face and lie; I wanted to lie in what I see as the epitome of pure physical affection so that we would both share in its joy, unfettered by external fears and anxieties instilled in our minds by whatever comparably frivolous circumstances may have been in the dreamland's existence. Then why the erection? I think living for 18 years while only having a pillow to fulfill the aforementioned fantasy on a fairly infrequent basis might have a good deal to do with it.
Some odd months ago I was still entranced by a girl I had seen one time in the previous year. I met her at a supermarket, a single prolonged stare constituting the said meeting. She simply gazed into my eyes for an upwards of five seconds, and she had me. I didn't see her till about ten months later, when I had finally found out how to contact her online and sent her a relatively elaborate letter. I don't want anyone here to suffer from death by ennui as a result of my drab and miserable storytelling drudgery, so in a word: I had a chance with her, and I blew it. I thought about her for perhaps several months afterward, and in that time I also dreamt of her.
My favorite dream involving that particular girl lasted about seven seconds (and no, it was not a sexual dream, although I'm fairly certain that the allotted time is fairly generous regarding my presumable 'capacity'), and it entailed the two of us, flank to flank, on a couch in the family room. I could feel her warmth radiating beside me, and in a quiet tone I said, "I've never done this before," referring in a literal sense exclusively to the act that I have just mentioned.
The most overt was with the former girl, and it was before the first dream I've so kindly
recollected for you: I was lying next to her on a couch, and she slowly moved toward me -- the slightest feeling of any part of her body -- which was quite completely clothed, I might add in order to dispel any perverse notions -- was electrifying, and it all skyrocketed into nonpareil bliss when I felt her kiss my neck. I woke up almost immediately after, and I felt quite upset and listless as I usually do when this sort of fantastical indulgence drains me. My point in relaying all of this rambling nonsense is...well, to be honest, I'm not really sure. Of all the negativity and disgust I hold for my own character and abilities regarding any endeavor in general, I can say that I do hold myself in high regard for one enterprise: Meandering. With that in mind, let me try to formulate some sort of meaning from the foregoing remarks.
I look at that type of love as primeval. I have written a short essay, entirely in the first person and the present tense, describing exactly what my ideal romantic fulfillment would entail. It is hardly summated by anything I've said thus far, but that is perhaps not necessary to mention. I just didn't want to come across as an immature or intellectually parochial -- to an embarrassing degree -- youth, although I find trying to hide that conviction an equivocation in and of itself.
Moving on from my remarkable ability to divagate into nonsense, I'm feeling restricted in my passions. I am truly happy only when I am playing guitar or writing, and not producing garbage; I mean I am only truly happy when I am fully engaged in creativity and am able to produce something that I think just might be worth a little less than half a ****. So why do I have these desires? I surely desire a woman with whom I could connect with on all conceivable levels -- that is of utmost importance to me. I care not at all to 'lie' with any woman of whose presence fails to astonish me in any interesting way, and this of course can refer to anything. In a word, I want true love. I want to be immersed in another woman's life without either of us becoming dependent on one another; I want us to experience each others' lenitive caresses, warm embraces, and innocently burning stares. I want us to flow into perfect harmony regarding perspective, even if they be completely different from one another; I first and foremost want to comprehend and experience her mind, her soul, and her body as a unique human being to be cherished, revered, and loved for the remainder of my existence, and to the highest degree that is within my realm of ability.
My dreams are then, naturally, primeval. I yearn for physical affection; however, there is that added level that I feel a pseudo-deep connection with these women, even though I've never truly conversed with one of them. Perhaps they aren't primeval, then? I'm really not sure. What was I talking about?
I'm enjoying my isolation, and I would like to have that prevail. I fear that if I do become involved with anyone in any intimate way, I'll grow attached and my creative ability or level of production will diminish to unacceptable degrees. I'm hardly producing anything as it is, and if I lost any more I would essentially be a sedentary blob of coagulating ooze. I just don't know what I want, and I'm trying to convince myself that I'm not good for anyone and that no one is good for me. I like to think that I'm better off living in isolation and trying to produce for other people so that my life will have purpose, just not for my own enjoyment. As William Hazlitt wrote in his essay "On the Love of Life," "The strength of passion seldom corresponds to the strength we find in its indulgence." Or something like that. In any case, it makes sense to me. Furthermore, my agony now is most likely far less than what it would be if I got into a loving relationship and lost it without being ready. I also understand the converse, which is that my potential for happiness is at least halved, but I think I'll be okay with that should I continue to wring enjoyment out of whatever passionate endeavor it is I'm attempting to succeed in, even though it's perhaps doomed to perpetually be to no avail.
I'd like to say more, but I think this post has run its course. I'd rather not bog people down with my own ramblings, but I've done that for years with the same fruitless result every time. I suppose one more won't hurt then, eh?
