It used to be that I’d rarely dream of him. Each cherished moment a treasure to behold.

Not much has changed other than the frequency. A different dream of him every night. So vivid I wake up exhausted. Sometimes he’s even someone else. Disguised but still deliciously obvious.

Store Dream

We were at a store. Maybe Ross or Walgreens. It was bright and there was a shopping cart filled with rolls of paper or maybe giant tubes of saran wrap. The tubes were sticking up out of the cart blocking my view. I sensed our kids were near but out of sight. He came into view around the paper tubes and his long blonde hair was tied back. He was smiling. Maybe looking at our son. I wanted to get closer. Get his attention. I was excited to see him. Thrilled. Then I woke up.

Sex Dream

I dreamed I was laying in my bed on my back with my knees pulled up. Dim early morning light trickling past the curtains. His legs curled up behind my legs, pumping into me furiously from sideways underneath. Pleasure coursing through me in waves. I was full with him and ecstatic. I looked over and saw his eyes. Black from cheek to brow. Alarmed, I awoke. Disturbed and frightened by it but desperately disappointed to be awake and without him again. Fearful that I’d been fucking his demon and loving every shiveringly satisfying second of it.

Movie Dream

I was in an office. A spy or agent of some sort. Pretending to be a cop but actually stealing several tiny vials of something from the cops. It was exciting to take the package and reveal my true nature. Laughing in my heart. He was there after. I was to deliver the vials to him. He was sexy as fuck but a stranger. I wanted to fuck him. He was a prostitute. I took him. Climbed onto his lap. Pushed his back to the floor. He opened a vial and rubbed black drops into the soft tissue beneath my eyes. The pleasure was rich and deep and instant. Like smoking meth with a cock already throbbing inside. It was then I knew it was him. His cock. His drugs. His pleasure penetrating my skull as I reeled back. We melted together in a trip orgasm reaching so deep inside and extending so far into each other that there was no him. No me. Just fuck and drug and my clit ringing out into the sky.

Phone Call Dream

I needed him to pick up the phone. Just the phone. Looking at it ring. Anxiety rattling out of my eyes into the phone. Pick up. Pick up. I need you. Where are you. Please don’t be mad anymore. Sobbing for hours at this dial tone. I know he’s there but he won’t answer because I fucked up. Our son needs to see you. More sobbing for hours all night. The kind of sobs where your throat aches because you sound like a dying elk in the woods. I don’t even think that part was a dream. This dream, unlike the others, insufferably endless. But he finally answers.

Just like always he came to my aid. To soothe me his fingers on my clit through the phone. I relax into him.

My son wakes me and I beg him to let me sleep because I want to keep dreaming of his daddy.