sexual dream, so maybe you don’t want to hear about it. But you’re going to. I was at a party, wearing military gear (I remember looking down an seeing my military boots). I don’t remember much about the party except it was a bacchanal, everything was wrecked; it started slowly and became chaos. I don’t know how to describe the room that the party was in — it was perhaps an artists house? Old wood? But the central incident that I woke up remembering was that I lost someone’s penis. Yes, it’s very complicated (and it must mean something, mustn’t it?). Anyway I stole it and then I lost it. I was having sex with him and he is somewhat dim -- in the detail. But his presence was strong and masculine, and he was an artist (was it his party?). Also I was not the only one who loved him at that party, everyone loved him, they all were protective of him, and were watching me with him. And with him, I had -- well — how shall I describe it -- tastefully? Shall we call it fabulous fellatio? Going down on him was fabulous. (I don’t know how to describe it except his penis just fit; it was heaven.) But when it was over I then suddenly had his penis in my hand, separate from him (odd that). Odd too, that his penis being separate from his body did not alarm me in the least. I just put it in my pocket. And then the worry came. Because the party was winding down and I had lost it. And I frantically searched my pockets, and pulled out all sorts of phallic paraphernalia, dropping them on the floor, but none of them alas, was his ‘equipment.’ Then the party was really over, and people were cleaning up. And I caught of glimpse of him (handsome, masterful) and I wanted to talk to him. But oddly again, I didn’t seem to be in trouble -- for either stealing -- or for losing his penis. Oh yes, and I remember two other details, one very odd and the other not so much. The first detail was that before leaving the party I saw a large stuffed deer with diamonds for eyes. This may seem terribly symbolic. And perhaps it was - because I do know a beautiful young man who identifies as a deer ('deer' in gay lore is somewhat the opposite of 'bear'). And so this deer may have been that young man. But why was it dead? This worries me. But then again (and this is complicated to explain) taxidermy has been figuring prominently in my life of late (shall we leave it at that?). And finally, the other detail -- not so odd -- is I remember telling this gorgeous dominant, artist -- my lover -- during our lovemaking, that I was a slut, and that lots of people wanted to have sex with me. And I remember very clearly him saying “I can see why.” And when he said this I turned my head away from fellating him, and noticed that I was lying on my stomach and my ass was exposed. Well as you might imagine when I woke up I was incredibly horny, and very worried about having stolen that guy's penis. But after all he hadn’t seemed very worried, so why should I be? I find it coincidental that I dreamt this last night, because last night I had also watched a youtube video about Jung and dreams that a friend just sent me. Now I’ve never paid much attention to dreams. But in this video a therapist was talking about writing them down, which I thought was impossible. How can you remember your dreams? And then I remembered that I had written a blog about a dream recently. And when I woke up this morning, the image — but most of all the feeling of the dream — was overwhelming, so I wrote down all the details I could remember. And now I’ve realised that dreams are not only the subconscious (which I’ve always been suspicious of because Freud used the subconscious for ridiculous ends sometimes) dreams are irrational. And the irrational is what I’m all about now (Heraclitus, Lucretius, Gorgias, Ovid — it’s a long story). And this woman in the video said — and I’m paraphrasing — that at the centre of Jung’s philosophy was the notion that everyone needs to believe in something, that we must have an irrational side even if we claim to be a creature of reason. In other words you may have that friend or relative or teacher or someone who says they are completely logical and dispassionate. I have such a friend now (or he seems to be an ex-friend as I hardly ever see him since COVID-19 so I can write about him here. I mean I still do love him but he’s definitely an ex-friend). And my ex-friend is one of those people who can no longer tolerate my anger (have you noticed that I'm a pretty angry guy?). And I’ve tried to explain to him that anger is a good thing but he very much above it all because he is a Buddhist. And in his mind anyway, the exemplary Buddhist is not emotional but instead above all human emotion. But emotion is irrational. And that’s what this woman was talking about in the Jung video -- that getting angry or frightened or whatever -- is necessary, because if we don’t allow ourselves to have feelings then they just go into hiding, but are still there, lurking. So we must be irrational. We must believe in things beyond reason. (So maybe my ex-friend still is irrational, and emotional, in one way -- because of his belief in his God. Because if there wasn’t a God we would invent him -- or her). Which brings me back to the penis incident. Now it seems almost de rigeur to analyse it. The circumstance seems, in fact, to invite analysis. But I would posit -- isn’t that somewhat contrary to the point? Why be rational about something that is irrational (i.e. a dream)? I mean why can’t it just be what it is, in the reality of a dream, i.e. I took someone’s penis by mistake and then lost it (silly me). I mean of course the dream had guilt in it; I’m guilty, I’m guilty all the time, my first novel was called Guilty, I have been suffocating in guilt ever since my mother told me to clean my room when I was a kid, and after I cleaned it she said: “I was worried because you made it too clean”. Or perhaps I’m the only male in the universe besides Woody Allen who has penis envy? Or perhaps I want to forget penises (horrifying thought). But really I do think we are ruining it if we try and figure out what any dream means. It doesn’t mean anything. Does water mean anything? What does a bowel movement mean? Does a whinnying horse mean anything? These things just are. It was a dream, and it must be respected, because well, right now, it’s what Shakespeare (oh yeah that guy again) said we are made of. And right now, frankly, my 'dream' is a lot more real than my 'reality.'
