A Dreamscape Screamscape

I'm and I know it. I'm sitting fully clothed in my favourite chair in front of my TV hallucinating that I'm stark naked and that there's a scary old man who could give Usain Bolt a run for his money chasing me down. Ergo, I reason that he can't simply be just a geriatric sex maniac. If this is the waking nightmare I'm sure it is, then the vile veteran must represent something else. Maybe something I'm to look at for fear of what I might find. According to Sigmund Freud, he most likely represents my repressed sexual desires. Were he alive today, I'm sure the Austrian neurologist would be saying that my difficulty in running through the soft sand of my dream is purely to do with the fact that, deep down in my psyche, I don't really want to run away from being and am therefore subconsciously manufacturing an excuse for getting caught. What a load of misogynistic chauvinistic crap! We girls are happy to share ourselves with the right guy at the right time but we sure as fuck draw the line at being forcibly taken by some senior member of a Formula 1 Zimmer Frame racing team. The thing is, I'm not sure how . . . O shit! He's caught me!

Long, thin bony fingers are digging deeply into my undefended breasts from behind. They resemble the talons of a giant seagull. Wait, they ARE the talons of a giant seagull and they're not just digging into me, they sinking into me, animating my boobs so it looks as though they’ve taken on a life of their own as they bulge and seethe

Hang on, how can the talons of a giant seagull be grabbing me from behind? Seagull's legs don’t bend that way; this is ridiculous. In a puff of logic, the seagull's legs and feet vanish and are replace by two octopuses, one on each tit. They spread their cold, wet tentacles around my fleshy orbs, and are held fast there by their myriad circular suckers. I feel their beaked mouths clamp onto my nibbles and am suddenly aware that I'm lactating. Don’t ask me how I know this. Being childless, I've never produced milk in my life but apparently, I'm doing it now and these twin octopi are drinking it and it feels. . . .wonderful. A strange and unexpected feeling of peace and tranquillity wells up inside me as I'm suckled in stereo. A feeling of affection for my feeding, soft bodied, eight limbed molluscs ensues and I start to stroke their pulsing bulks which seem to grow as more and more of my milk is consumed.

Glancing up, I see my ancient pursuer is now standing in front of me, leering lecherously. His flies are open and oozing out of this dubious void is some sort of endless sea-snake. It glistens purply-blue in the sunlight, looks incredibly slimey and has two of the most evil looking tiny eyes I have ever seen. It also has a miniscule mouth that I swear is leering at me, exposing needle sharp teeth. This loathsome creature is growing out of the man where is penis should be and moves through the air towards me like a snake would on the ground. I can't move, being petrified with blood curdling terror. In no time at all, the hideous head of the creature is sniffing and lapping at the lips of my vagina. I hear myself whimper pathetically as the serpent forces itself into me. It fills me completely with its cold, slimy mass, but then, painlessly, it keeps on going, up into my uterus until it locates my fallopian tubes and overies. Then it begins to feed, feasting on my eggs and the secret place where they have been kept since my birth. It doesn't hurt. In fact, as my gynecological faculties are consumed by the living, writhing creature inside me, I feel the tingling flames of on-coming orgasm begin to engulf me till my senses explode in climax. Wave after euphoric wave of ecstacy is surging through me and continue to do so until my invading serpent is sated and begins to withdraw, leaving me barren but blissfully contented.

I go to stroke my suckling octopuses once more but touch only the material of my beach top. The serpent is gone and where the old man had been standing is a solitary seagull that winks at me before flying off into the sun. Then the sun fades and morphs into my TV screen and I'm one hundred percent back in the room.

Reviewing in my mind what had just happened, I came to the conclusion that my decision not to have children lay at the core of the visions and feelings I'd just experienced. But I also better appreciated that the contented and fulfilling life I lead everyday as a result of this decision is very real. Although I once had my doubts and so shied away from wondering if I'd made the right choice, I now knew for sure that I had made the right choice, for me. It's a realisation for which I'm profoundly grateful.

Now there was nothing else to do but log what had just happened on the Preparation Yz19 app. I know that as a consciousness and caring person, I should have shared the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But it was getting late, I was tired to the point of exhaustion and so I just put, "Had a glass of wine after taking pills and felt a bit weired for a while." Well, it was true-ish, wasn't it? I'm sure they'd never have believed the full story. Especially the bit where, as I got out of my chair to go to bed, I noticed a single and very real seagull feather on the carpet in front of me.