I continue to find highly erotic stories written about female domination of men or boys forced to dress in women's clothing. The result is more than an orgasm but approval of the dominant woman. Or said in another way the acceptance of the boy as a daughter.
This dream is extraordinary given the nearness of All Hallows Eve preceding All Saints Day. However historical accuracy is not my concern for the issues defined, expanded and explained were specifically why M refuses me as a man who loves her more than any woman I've ever known.
I am curious about everything and have no qualms expressing what most men would never say publically: what does a woman feel when a man penetrates her? For seven minutes in heaven most men have raped and destroyed women from time immemorial. Rather than confront their sexual longings as experienced. Think of the legendary Don Juan phenomenon; so addicted to conquest that he knew no limits to seduction or number of conquests. In contrast I love with such ferocity that the women I have known and loved sexually and emotionally have never proved the cure. Until now. Given my dream resolving why mom for many Halloweens suggested that I dress as a little girl. Dad would inevitably object repeating his, to him shameful, to me delightful, contrary to his erstwhile demeanor general indifference to everything.
In childhood he had for a friend and companion a Welsh Corgi. At some point the dog starved to death. A neighbor had fed the dog a grease soaked sponge. Dad was never specific regarding his practice on Halloween of placing fresh dog droppings in a craft paper bag. Setting it at the front of the neighbor's door on fire and ringing their doorbell. Watching in glee as the neighbor stomped out the fire. Dad's story never varied and the gender or age of the victim seemed irrelevant: Mom, Dad, Sis or Brother.
M&M, or M and I have an uncommon legacy we share; hers is more accurate than mine, claiming more evidence from experience than I who had to rely upon the confessions of my mother: the fifty eight hours of dry labor in a Catholic hospital and the nun's indifference to her pain.
Thus my thesis is not merely confirmed but explained. God heals all who ask to be healed in life or death. Both M and I have had remarkable lives. About which I, in her case, will give you no clues. Her identity will die with me unless she predeceases me--when all bets and restraints are off. I make no threats but promises for which, by implication, I will roam all the universe or cosmos beyond time to fulfill.
By dreams and self knowing I am healed and informed that God was is and remains The Other always. Yet present in fragment in all life. Ignatius; god within and God without; God everywhere.
In sincerity I care nothing for fame or fortune, praise or disdain. Having had a fabulous life all that I loved lost except this person who writes. The sound of one hand: for me is the silence of God "The Great Creator" whose creation is accepted with indifference. No woman other than M has ever fully pressed me into being fully myself; as I am now . . . at least in this life for now. For the past and future I have glimpses as I've had of God, infrequent, yet significant!
God looks nothing like you or me. Is neither male nor female; possibly both or at times playing the role of one or the other somewhat like Jacob's angel at the top of the ladder. God is God. What more can I say? See for yourself you "own" as much of God as I do; or as the mountains going to Muhammad.
God, in essence, and experience, remains anonymous yet oddly, if only partially, incarnate in individuals of either or no gender. In real-current-soon-to-end-life: mine. I see within others The Presence active or inactive. And for those who stole my fortune, wealth being a relative too need value; I feel a profound sense of sorrow not for my lose but theirs. To come when naked in the great leveling of all vanity: death. They will stand before the judge. No choice is inconsequential to God and no act lost.
Think Hitler or Joseph Stalin and their millions destroyed. Not unalike to Woodstock the movie. No vague sense of what is the matter? Have I been here before. But consciously being the victims, individual destroying you and resurrecting you with no oblivion ever possible. God, being infinitely compassionate, merciful than I may have other plans but sincerely I know the wrath of God.
. . . I have always wondered why Jesus should recoil from me? I am not He for He alone saved me. Not Buddha, Muhammad, Lao Tzu or Confucius; similar by expression and intent but always as recorded falling short of He who died for our sins and to vanquish the fear/terror of death. Essentially and best or more better yet incarnate in those who now hold all the money valueless since it being not in circulation is merely a medium of exchange.
We are at the apogee of an doppleganger; it could go either way. Fall forward or backwards? To me the end will soon come yet for these moments, days, weeks and months there is time yet to redeem yourself. My sense, thought, intuition, feeling--and worse than those: instinct is that we this world, our lives, are past the point of no return.
As for me, for now, this reality; I will at 05:44 do the final chore of correcting, proof reading, and playing with the syntax finish this post and publish.
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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