Mother Nature Meets Father Time

Fantasies Part 1

Disclaimer: This is labeled "Part 1" because there is more. However, there is no guarantee the rest of it will ever appear on this blog or any other part of my portfolio on this site.

Sleep is so precious to me because I meet my lover there. Each dream session is a different game, but the players are always the same.

Lenny: He is dorkishly cute, physically fit (and then some), unknowingly humorous, sensitive, "tough guy" who spends too much time talking, and should spend more time listening. Of course, this is a personality fault, not an intentional disregard for others. I am sure he is suffering from ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder). He is a beer and pizza kind of guy, but only on the weekends, holidays, or other days off. He is motivated by adrenaline: extreme sports, military missions, short deadlines, or any other challenge resulting in adrenaline rush.

John: He is the silent bodyguard / sidekick to Lenny. He participates in many of the same activities, but does not appear to receive the same pleasure as Lenny does. His demeanor is cold, and isolated. It is simple: he keeps Lenny out of trouble, or buries the evidence should he fail. He is not totally repulsive, all the time, but he makes no effort to gain anybody's personal attention. His number one goal appears to be enforcing rules, and playing the role of a physical reminder to Lenny's conscience.

Other characters vary from one version of the fantasy to the other.

I was exhausted when I crawled into bed yesterday morning. The sun was invading my rest and relaxation. Is there no solace for shift workers? I attempted to sleep in pajamas, at least while I would be working night schedule, just in case someone rang the doorbell.

It was not long before every shred of clothing once touching my skin, had been removed. When I have been this tired, my skin becomes sensitive and easily irritated. I snuggled inbetween two mink blankets I had brought home with me from Korea. Now all I needed to do was to relax, and clear my mind.

As I drifted into dreamland, I felt his strong arms wrap around my naked body. I could hear the soft palpatations of his heat beating in sync with my own. I could smell his afteshave, nothing too strong, but he had recently shaved his face. It was baby smooth when he nuzzled my cheek. If only he had really been there, that would have been Heaven. Of course, it was this last thought of him while semi-conscious which led to my fantastic fantasy.

Disclaimer #2: "Lenny" may sound like a real person, and although he may take on the features of someone I actually have known, there is no relationship now, nor has there ever been, between the "real -life Lenny" and myself. I am not sure I would even want one with the "real-life Lenny". This is just a writer's overactive imagination transcending levels of consciousness.

The phone rings, but it is so far away. By the time I reach it, the answering machine has kicked in, and the caller ID is no longer visible. The beep sounds and silence follows, except for the nervous breathing of the caller. A simple message is left: "I'll catch you another time. Sorry."

It is almost a whisper. He is definitely nervous, but will he call again? I review the caller ID, but do not recognize the number. The label is simple: US Government, but it is not a local number, and living in the Metro DC area, a "foreign" number for the government means only one thing. It must be one of my old Army buddies. He must be calling from a DSN (work) number, but why? Is he trying to get Uncle Sam to pick up the tab? Or is he protecting his identity? I already know if I call the number back, I will be rerouted to a dispatch operator. Without the proper extension, I cannot return this call.

About six weeks later, plus or minus a couple of days, I miss another call, but just barely. My key is stuck in the lock as I enter my apartment. The answering machine beats me to the punch. Once again, there is a silent pause, with only the nervous breathing detectable.

"I am coming over one day soon. I need to see you."

Once again it is a bare whisper. I know this man. I recognize something in his speech, his articulation patterns, or something. I cannot quite put my finger on it, but it excites me in the most unusual fashion. Usually I become annoyed with inarticulate speech. There is no desperation in his voice, so he must need to see me about some minor issue, maybe my perspective of an old event which has resurfaced.

According to my calendar, nothing is planned for at least three weeks, except my daily work schedule, of course. My work is unkown in this dream. It is just a vague reference which appears once or twice.

Eight days later, I arrive home after an uneventful week and weekend. I seem to have some kind of tunnel vision with the execution of my daily routines. He is right there! Lenny is standing outside my door, leaning against the wall in a nonchalant fashion. I simply walk by him and open the door. Once again, I am fighting with my key in the door.

I do sense a presence, but I never turn to look. This is out of character for the "real me". I tend to be a little more paranoid in "real life", especially to have someone behind me. Lenny's arm gently reaches around me, and pulls my key out of the lock. He gently chuckles to himself and hands me the key. I never close the door, and neither does he.

Now, John is standing just outside my open door. He looks at me, looks at Lenny, and then with a hard glare into Lenny's eyes, simply shakes his head and walks away. (Where does he go? He just does this cameo appearance and disappears.)

Lenny and I exchange a number of looks, as if conveying a message of mutual appreciation without uttering a single word, filled with doubts and questions requiring verbal communication.

"You look good," he stammers, really slowly, as if he meant to say something more, but could not find the words.

"You surprise me," I say critically, but with a slight smile, "I am still trying to figure out why you are here, but by no means intend for you to be discouraged and leave."

Suddenly he starts rambling on about everything he has been doing, his promotion, and how many mutual acquaintances of ours, with which he has maintained contact. Although I am eager to hear everything he is saying, my hormones are racing, and I am overcome with the overwhelming desire to plant my lips across his face, but I do not do it.

"You are quiet these days," he says, "Is everything ok?" Of course everything is not okay. I cannot even follow a simple inarticulate conversation because all these new feelings are arising from a previously nonexistent attraction to a man I once referred to as my boss. I am so confused. How did I work for him for so long, and fail to notice what a hunk of masculinity he is. Can he sense how lost I am in him? Am I blushing? I blush so easily; maybe he will attribute it to something else. What is wrong with me?

"Why are you here?" What more should I say? Did he not say he needs to see me? Well take a good look buddy, this is me, forever! Why am I suddenly so angry?

"Are you mad at me?" He asks, but then laughs. Oh no! I do not mean to sound angry. Can I be honest without being honest?

"Yes I am!" Now I do not mean to say that, but it is out, so I better figure out what I should say next. "Why didn't you leave your name, or a number, or at least a date of when you would be in town? I thought somebody was stalking me!" That should be good, but I know he is not stalking me, and the suggestion actually heightened my own arousal.

"Is that such a bad thing," he asked shyly, "I can think of worse people to be stalking you." What kind of response is that anyways? This is a messed up dream. I do not like the idea of a stalker. I do not care how charming he is!

"I am mad at you. MAD ok? MAD, MAD MAD. Do you get it yet?" what is going on with me. Now who is the articulate communicator of the day? I still do not know why I am so mad.

"I know," he chuckles, and then he walks to the door. I turn my back to him, ready to burst into tears, because I think he is leaving. In fact, my eyes are already watery, and my throat feels tight and swollen. I hear the door slam closed. Then I hear the lock. The lock? I cannot look. Is he still here?

"I am sorry I am so late, but I had to be sure it would be ok," he whispers as he walks up from behind me and wraps his arms around me. My lips tremble with anxiousness, and then he kisses me ... on my forehead.

I cannot fight the tears any longer, but I am not sure why I am crying. My head is spinning. The dream starts skipping here. I realize time is almost done. We are lying on blankets in the middle of my living room floor, and he kisses my forehead one last time.

"I am sorry I can't stay. The timing isn't perfect yet, but I will be back." Lenny's phone rings. It is John. "Yes, I know," Lenny says as he hangs up the phone. Then I hear my alarm sound. Lenny is gone. I am not sure he was ever actually here.

Then I awake to the beeping of my real alarm clock. That was a fast eight hours!

Now I prepare to head home and do it all over again. How will I meet him this time? Sweet dreams, All!


Natural Spring