Tag Archives: dreams

Word Of The Day: Defenestration

The defenestration, 1618 by Václav Brožík

de·fen·es·tra·tion

/dēˌfenəˈstrāSHən/

Learn to pronounce

noun

  1. FORMAL•HUMOROUS the action of throwing someone out of a window. “death by defenestration has a venerable history”
  2. INFORMAL the action of dismissing someone from a position of power or authority. “that victory resulted in Churchill’s own defenestration by the war-weary British electorate”

I had a fairly elaborate dream last night where this word featured prominently however, within the dream, I was using it incorrectly. I was treating it as though it were some kind of a defensive strategy word which, perhaps that might be true within a certain perspective… but in the context of my dream it was certainly incorrect.

I am not 100% certain on where I heard the word but I think it was on a new podcast that I started listening to. The first series is about Russian secret police dating way back in history and the episode I was listening to dealt with the NKVD during the reign of Stalin.

While in the era of the NKVD they really preferred to just shoot people in the back of the head rather than toss them out a window, I know he made reference to someone getting thrown out of a window. (Richard Sorge?) So, perhaps, he used the word defenestration and it lodged itself into my subconscious. Defenestration has come more into vogue within the last 50 years or so as a commonly accepted method of eliminating your political enemies in Russia as it can be thinly veiled as a suicide.

The more interesting character (read: piece of human garbage) that I might have to look into is Lavrenti Beria. To summarize him based on the information relayed to me in this podcast… he was a pedophiliac, murderer-rapist that was at the top of Russia’s secret police apparatus during Stalin’s era. Just when you think it couldn’t get any worse than Stalin, you come across a guy like Beria. Go communism!

The Power And Impossibilium

I dreamt about you last night.

It was the first time in a long while that my unconscious mind has wandered down this road. My conscious mind, aware of time and distance, has been battered by the ravages of war. It still longs for things that can never be.

But while I sleep, an alternate universe is woven like a web that glimmers with a fresh morning dew. And in it, I relive your beauty. 

My gaze falls upon your raven hair and its perfect sheen. I can feel your warmth through our clothes as we sit pressed against one another in an overcrowded car. Your scent penetrates the nostrils of my unconscious self with a delicacy that my conscious mind is no longer able to recall. Your smile delights me and your throaty laugh hints towards a deep, untamed passion. My lips are even allowed a subtle moment to brush your bare shoulder, unnoticed by everyone except you and I. 

Here, in this place created by my memory and my imagination, we are unchanged by the events of our conscious lives. Our past is alive, our present is altered and our future is immaterial. It is the moment and I am cleansed by its purity.

Inevitably, I wake to the realization that it is merely a dream, a reflection of the raw power you hold within my heart. I am moved to tears by the beauty of it and also by its impossibility.

The Sting Of The Sling

 Stevie Ray Vaughan is dead and we can't get Jon Bon Jovi in a helicopter.I mentioned it before but with regular sleep patterns, I’ve started dreaming again and playing guitar is a recurring theme. And, holy shit, I can fucking WAIL when it’s my brain making it all up. I’m a virtuoso when my fingers don’t actually have to touch a fretboard. I’m the Stevie Ray Vaughan of the unconscious world. If Donald Trump would play guitar will the skill he displays being a giant blow hard, I’d totally be a dreaming Donald Trump. Anyway, the total bitch of it all is that I can’t even hold a guitar with this stupid sling on. I don’t even have the hand strength to play it, even if I found a way to hold it. 

The positive side is that I won’t have my illusions about my abilities shattered for another 3 to 5 weeks 

Sound As A Pound

 One thing about sobriety is that I’ve actually started dreaming again. I don’t know if it was the source of my dream last night but I forgot to take my Valium yesterday evening. I’m tapering off and I’m taking 2.5 mg twice per day to help deal with withdrawals.

Anyway, I had a dream within a dream. I woke up inside of the dream still drunk from the night before. I had made it to 21 days but would have to start over because I got drunk at some informal reunion with high school classmates. Someone also stole my shoes and I, somehow, broke all of the strings on both of my guitars. 

I was extremely disappointed in myself until I realized within the dream that it was, in fact, just a dream and that I am sound as a pound. I woke myself up to reality and then relief washed over me. 

Today is Day 22. 

Pussy For A Night

I had the most bizarre dream last night; I dreamt that I ended up getting into some kind of accident (or something, I can’t remember the details now) but my cock was either cut off or horribly damaged beyond repair. For some reason, the doctors decided to build me a vagina instead of giving me a cock. Very weird.

So I marveled at my new pussy. Of course, changing in the locker room after playing hockey was dicey since I didn’t want anyone to see. I really wanted to be able to compare the female orgasm to the male orgasm to see which was better but I didn’t get a chance.

Eventually, I started to miss having a cock. Partially because I knew how it functioned (the pussy being a mystery to guys? no. way.) but also because I was a bit of a freak and intimacy with others would be difficult given my status.

Eventually, I woke up and had to check to make sure I still had a dick swinging between my legs. And I was relieved to find it there… so relieved that I decided to stroke it to orgasm.