A post-atomic sex dream. Interpretation up for grabs.

I generally don’t post in the morning.

But I just came off a vivid and disturbing dream.
I still have the slight aftertaste of disgust rattling in my mouth.
I would call it pornographic but there was nothing sexual about it.


The dream spans a couple of scenes. A real fucked narrative.

At the beginning, I’m assembled with a large group of people. We’re waiting outside the doorway of a “lab” of sorts where some scientists are about to test a new invention. We slowly filter in but the scientists stop us. They tell us to leave. The experiment is too dangerous and no on should be in here except necessary personnel.

So we are pushed out, disappointedly.
The doors close and there is some kind of marker, light, can’t remember, which tells us the experiment has begun. It’s like the kind of light you might see outside a sound stage where taping is going on.

So we wait outside while the experiment begins and a multitude of strange and loud sounds can be heard from behind the door. Loud, scary, scientific and Frankensteinian sounds.

I wander away from the crowd, lost in my thoughts.
It seems that a brilliant light illuminates from behind the doors. (Now, rationally, I wonder why a door barricading a dangerous experiment would allow light to seep through… )

As I’m standing far away, there is a loud bang. It’s a bang. Not an explosion, not a boom…a bang.

A loud bang, and suddenly, commotion from behind the door. The scientists rush out, panicked, tell us to run. One of the scientists tells us, in my dreamy gobbledygook, that the experiment went wrong. Something, a gas, a cloud, was unleashed which will kill everyone. We all run out into the fresh air, fear pushing us. As I’m running for my life, I glance up at the sky, and there, billowing upwards, is a tall plume of black particles, a cloud which streams upwards and begins to expands once it reaches the atmospheric ceiling. It expands and begins coating and encircling Earth’s atmosphere.

And we are running as fast as we can even though we know that there is no outrunning this menace that is surrounding the planet.

We are all dead, or will be. And we know it.
Still we run. I begin climbing down, descending a brushy ravine. It’s dark but the air feels odd with the poisonous particles.

Suddenly, having left the ravine, I am walking with a group of people. It’s a death march. We are no longer running. Resignation, I suppose.

We are resigned and marching, walking, towards something.
What I don’t know.

I come upon an elderly, rickety woman. Frail and thin, sickly. I can’t remember her face, for I never saw it. I didn’t need to, there was no need.

As we walk, death surrounding us, I ask her if she wants to have sex.
She nods happily in that herky jerky senior citizen manner.

I feel disgust. But in face of the certain death, it’s comforting.

We end up at an indoor mall of sorts, a bazaar.

Then we’re in a room and we unpeel our clothes.
Her body, gnarled and ravaged with illness and age.
I climb on top of her and her skin feels taut and abrasive and as I penetrate her there is no pleasure.
It is a sickly sensation and no matter how much I continue I cannot find any arousal.
But she enjoys?
We continue for a long time.
And though I stay erect I cannot move past that. Then she is surrounded by men in white coats and I stand off to the side, awaiting, while they examine her. A doctor alludes to the fact he may need to drain her vulva because it is too swollen and he holds a large needle. They decide against it. The procedure is too dangerous. They all concur. (More rational post-dream thoughts…the world is ending, what difference does it make if the procedure is too dangerous?).

The medical “professionals” leave us alone again.
They couldn’t help the situation. Whatever it was that was wrong with the situation, for that isn’t clear.

Whatever the case, we decide we can’t have sex anymore.
That much is disappointingly clear.

The old lady, feeling perhaps bad for me since she had fun, volunteers to blow me.
And next thing you know…

I’m watching as her deathly mouth, blueish tongue, enwraps my erect penis.

Her shoulder, the top of her back, visible as her garment has slipped down. Old, discolored, gray.

Death, old, and I’m fighting it.

Thankfully the dream ends.

My apologies. That is the most vivid dream I’ve had in a long while and I need to vent it out, despite its horrifically embarrassing, and I presume, personally revealing nature.

God knows what it reveals.

10 Replies to “A post-atomic sex dream. Interpretation up for grabs.”

  1. This dream could be about your fears of growing old and dying.

    The end of the world in the dream is the end of your world.

    The shrivelled up old lady is the way you fear you might be when you grow older (old and shrivelled up). Having sex with her is a way of incorporating that image of yourself into your sense of self.

    1. Hmmm very interesting interpretation.
      There is definitely an element of mortality and toll of time, isn’t there?
      I was curious about the sexual aspect to this dream and I never thought of it as the act of incorporating all that represented (age, death) into my sense of self.

  2. Great blog and a very vivid bit of writing.

    Over at bsd you wrote:
    Oh I agree. I am a very fair and benevolent person. I’m simply dealing with dwindling hostilities I’ve carried with me most of my life and which have only begun to subside in the past decade. It’s reached the point where I have control over them now and I mock them for the hold they used to have on me. I still have em though :(

    What did you mean by dwindling hostilities? Anger? How did you get to control (i understand if you can’t elaborate).

    1. Why thank you fsharp.
      And you’ve handed me a nice little bit of rope which I will use to hang my blogself!
      I will do my best to explain my dwindling hostilities this weekend in a post I’ve been planning for a while now. It happens to coincide with your question.

  3. Shawn I still love you.

    But I bet I would love you even more if you were about 50 years older.

  4. Well, you have discussed your somewhat lower standards for sex partners, your somewhat advancing age and your feeling of the “hive mentality” all rather recently. This dream had elements of all of those. The sexual inability to climax, eh, well, sorry about THAT looming danger.

  5. Contact your nearest Freudian shrink. Let them make heads or tails of this. Stop disturbing the rest of us. Only pay for one session. You just bought a new computer and don’t need to throw money down a hole.

    Or maybe you should go Jungian.

    Regardless, you evil bastard, inflicting such imagery on the rest of us.

    Fear of aging? Helplessness at the hands of the powerful? “Dawn of the Dead” for people who’ve lost their fear of zombies?

    1. I fear that if I take this to the nearest shrink I might not be allowed to leave the office “unassisted.”

      This was dreadful.
      What was I thinking when I posted this shit.
      Shouldn’t some things remain private?

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