HisLordship commented in his recent post that behind my “‘come fuck me eyes’ lurks a mind probably full of dreams, like clouds of purple and red smoke whirling around forming new erotic shapes.” This reminded me of the poem pictured here which I used to use as part of a creative writing unit when I taught English. I have always believed that we allow our imaginations, and our fantasies, to be limited by what is deemed to be ‘normal’, ‘acceptable’ and ‘reasonable’. Clearly we can’t change the direction our mind goes in, but in terms of what we choose to reveal or share with others, we have a complete autonomy and for many this means that they limit their own imaginations in order to conform with others.
Sir is right about my dreams. They are hard for me to grasp and hard for me to explain. I know that there is a difference between us, for his are much more tangible. Mine seem to defy space and time and exists in an almost cinematic snapshot of a series of pictures which are connected to words. I think in images but the images stem from words. I find some American cities difficult due to the fact the streets are based on numbers. 52nd street. 34th street. No picture in my mind so it is instantly forgotten and I have no reference point. Pudding Lane on the other hand – I see a treacle sponge with custard and I have something to hold on to and remember. I will categorise it and file it away in a number of sections of my vocabulary library awaiting recall. Anyway I digress somewhat into the weird workings of my brain, but I think it is relevant to my fantasies and the fact that I struggle to articulate them to Sir.
I think that my mind probably exists in its own reality. I don’t enjoy watching porn and I never have done. I enjoy reading erotic fiction and will find that much more of a turn on. Porn leaves nothing to my imagination. It is too in my face, the dots all joined in a way that is too realistic for me to really enjoy. My fantasies are words and images and parts of things that jump around but centre around the thrill of the translation of what is happening. Time can speed up and slow down as it wants and, as I am usually at the centre of the fantasy, I experience it as sensation and emotion as well as action. It is rarely experienced as a film would be – it is multi sensory, not watched from the outside in one dimension. They will be made up of things that I shouldn’t want to like. Often extreme, often embarrassing, often not something you could just ask to act out. And so I offer them to Sir in that format sometimes. They will be vague, often have a caveat attached, and he does very well to make any sense of them at all.
But my training at sharing is going well and I am becoming more able to express some of the parts of the whole. I think that as a realist, I have never wanted fantasy. I have wanted to really live and experience what I can in my reality and some of the things in my head, I know I would not want to do. I try to talk about those with Sir and share what it is that attracts me to them and what it is that is a step to far. Then I leave that with him and at some point he often works it into his dialogue or his scene. The fun part is that we are learning together and through discussion our fantasies become a combined effort which we then live out together. We will discuss our scenes afterwards and from that will come changes and additions and alterations. As someone who led a very vanilla life and used fantasy to add the ‘extra’ that was required, I am glad that it is now playing less of a part. I enjoy the moment, the sensation and the experience for what it is, and I know that HisLordship will keep the deep and the dark and the forbidden coming my way, so I really feel very lucky.