Having a sleepy day. And you know I hate my sleepy days.

Especially when they last past noon. For some reason, that’s when they seem especially egregious to me. It’s one thing to sleep all the way till noon – mornings are for sleeping, after all.

But when I do that and yet I am still only awake enough to eat lunch (and blog) before going back to bed, that pisses me off.

I don’t want to lose the whole day to sleep. I want to be awake and alert and enjoying life in my own particular way.

But with the sleeping pill comes real sleep, and with real sleep comes an opportunity for my brain to catch up on all the deep REM sleep it’s been hankering for whilst I was in the Bad Place, and it doesn’t intend on giving me a choice in the matter.

Oh well. At least with sleep comes rest and a respite from having to figure out what to do with myself.

I would still rather be awake and playing my video games, but at least I am going to get something out of it.

With REM sleep comes dreams, of course, and I have started remembering some of them, which I take as a good sign.

During the Bad Times, I didn’t remember any of them.

Now, content warning : the dream is sexual.

In this dream, I am floating in a generic white void when a “woman” approaches me and offers to let me try her out, basically.

“Woman” is in quotes because, while I took her to be a real woman in my dream, looking at it now she definitely was not. She was more like a half-inflated sex doll version of a woman.

A very curvy and voluptuous woman, I might add.

I do believe I have a “type”.

This offer was not verbal. It was dream-logic.

Anyhow, I thought, why not, and positioned my very naked self with my arrow pointing homeward, so to speak, and said to her, “So I just slip it right in? ” And she said yes (in dreamspeak) and so I slipped it right in.

And to be honest… it didn’t feel like much. A slight gripping feeling, like a rubber band around my dick, and a vague cold wet feeling that I found to be rather disturbing.

Not to mention counterintuitive. I had always assumed that the inside of a vagina would be warm and wet and slick and overall a very happy place for a penis to be.

After all, they are made for each other!

But no. It was cold. And weird.

And that’s where the dream, or at least my memory of it, ends. Which is rather frustrating. I want to know what happened next.

Maybe she would have warmed up as I got my hump on. Who knows.

As to what it all means, wow, what a Freudian minefield, huh?

The way I see it is that I have been drifting towards bisexuality for a while now and this dream was a stop along that road.

A sort of dry run, if you will. Just to get me used to the idea of sticking my penis in something somewhat like a woman.

The fact that what my poor pecker found was the exact opposite of what a vagina is like is…. weird, I know.

But maybe I wasn’t ready to simulate the real thing yet. After all, I have never actually had my penis inside a woman.

Heck, I haven’t had it inside a lot of men, either. Not for lack of trying. But I practice safe sex and have certain girth issues with standard condoms.

Yes, ladies and gentle men, I am… thick.

In more ways than one.

So even my dreaming mind was just guessing. But that does not explain why the guess was so off the mark.

So clearly, I got Issues.

I don’t think I see women as cold and unpleasant and unwelcoming.

But I am all too aware of how much misogyny lurks within the darkness in gay men’s souls, and so I am not going to dismiss the idea out of hand.

The thing is that, as a gay(ish) man, I have had the freedom to not think about my relationship with women very much. To me, they were simply other human beings with whom I share the planet who are just as valid and human as I am and whom I happen to not want to fuck.

Simple, pure, and clinical.

But even as I typed those words, I felt a hostile chill underneath them. As if those words represented my idea of the “right” answer as opposed to representing the fullness of the feelings involved.

I think I have some deep seated hostility and resentment towards women. I think on some level I actually do see women as untrustworthy and dangerous and irresponsible, and I am happy as a clam that, until recently, for me they were entirely optional.

Here’s where I acknowledge that there is a possibility that this attitude towards women is intimately connected to how I ended up gay in the first place, but there is no way I am going to poke THAT hornet’s nest.

But I definitely feel relief at not having to rely on women for anything – including sex. That implies the aforementioned belief that women are untrustworthy and unreliable.

As to why I came to feel that way, I can’t say for sure. On the surface, it’s the product of a lot of observations about how women rarely display to men the sensitivity they expect FROM men, and how easily and readily women mock and dismiss men’s emotional needs, and how in a lot of heterosexual relationships, the woman has all of the power due to having vastly superior verbal and emotional skills compared to the man, yet take no responsibility for what they do with said power.

I could go on and on. Suffice it to say I could claim my negative feelings were deduced from observations and leave it at that.

But I feel like there must be more. Something deeper. Something way less pleasant to talk about.

Something to do with my mother.

But that’s a topic for another day.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.