To Sleep, Perchance to Dream of Pestorking

While the story about guys thinking about sex every seven seconds (wait… now!) may be apocryphal, this one has an academic study behind it: “Women have more nightmares than men, a British researcher says, but men are more likely to dream about sex.”

Nightmares about sex were not reported. But even when women do dream about sex, they tend to opt for a Lifetime movie, while guys head straight for XTube:

Men’s dreams contained more references to sexual activity, [psychologist Jennie] Parker said, and men reported more actual intercourse, while women reported more kissing and sexual fantasies about other dream characters.

We have but one quibble, and that’s with methodology: The report says she asked 193 people to keep dream diaries, “priming participants before dreams occurred to record them.” We find that with proper priming, the dream itself is superfluous.

Man’s dreams of sex? A woman’s nightmare [MSNBC]

I dream sometimes about musicals. Complete with story, characters, musical numbers, lyrics, everything. In the dream I am unprepared and don’t know the words and there’s no way I can learn in time.

I dunno, doctor. What do you think it means?

Now I must go to bed. After a day in NYC I need to sleep.

I actually bought a book along the lines of “How to Teach Yourself Lucid Dreaming”, specifically to learn how to indulge my sexual fantasies while asleep.

Unfortunately I tend to devote so many waking hours to active, lucid wanking, in order to get to sleep, that I never managed to practice the exercises detailed in the book.

I wish I dreamed of sex.

I wish I had a dream that I could at least remember, period.

I think I have had exactly three sex dreams in my life, by which I mean dreams ending in orgasm. I have had many many frustrating dreams in which sex is imminent, but there is always something at the last minute which quashes it, followed by waiting and manouevering for another opportunity, but again, just as its immiment, another interruption. Its like that movie, about that endless night, of a young man out in Manhattan, but as he just tries to get home, he gets involved in one wierd scenario after another, what was that movie?

@Benedick: Haha I had a radio alarm clock once, and the radio went off one morning instead of the alarm, and my dream totally turned into a musical! Everyone was singing, and dancing around, and then I woke up late but have remembered that dream ever since. I’ve definitely had sex dreams, and a few lucid dreams, but never the two together. Whenever I have a lucid dream the first thing I do is fly.

If you want help remembering your dreams, leave a notebook and pen right by your bed, and think about it before going to sleep. It worked great for me, but I fell out of the habit years ago.

The only dreams I vividly remember are nightmares.

The two typical nightmares
1) Wake up 20 minutes late for an exam. Didn’t study. No notes. Textbook is blank. Rush off. Can’t remember name. Stare at sheet. Suddenly 3 hours are up. And it turns out I need this exam to graduate. I used to wake up startled almost screaming. Now, I mentally drop course and dream fades to black.

Stems from some of this actually happening. Also from some stupid version of PTSD. It only shows up when I’m stressed about work and feel things starting to get out of control and it’s MY fault.

2) I call this one Saving Private Manchu. I find myself on what appears to be Omaha Beach. I watch people all around me getting shot while I either miss or can’t shoot. I keep running as chaos continues all around me. Then I find the source of my problems in the form of a machine gun nest and I can’t shoot worth crap. The MG turns on me and I wake up.

Apparently, according to dream interpretation it is because I feel impotent at something. Loss of control.

Sadly, I can’t describe any good sex dreams. If I have one I don’t remember it but I usually wake up with a grin on my face.

Hee. Does our subconscious’ subscribe to the same bad Skin-emax channel?

Anything sex dream I vaguely remember is similar to what you experience and just as frustrating.

Now here is a story I never told anyone, ever. As I said, I think I have only had 3 sex dreams which came to fruition, as it were. The first one took place only a couple of days after the long-awaited and fraught loss of my virginity, relevant only insomuch as it indicates this was a significant moment in my sexual life. I was not young, and this milestone was something I had been obsessed about for some time in a typically humorous adolescent way. And I remember having a sex dream, about that girl, that recent one and only sexual experience of my life thus far. Thats all I remember, I had a dream about her, and there was sex. There was talking, but I remembered not a word.

At this point I must note that I have never “blacked out” in my life. It has never happened to me in my life that someone tells me that I did something last night, and I don’t remember doing it. This despite prodigious “partying” with whatever substances were present. I have never had any missing hours in my life, I have always remembered every moment, I have never done anything I was unaware of doing.

But it appears that on the night of that “dream” I made a phone call. And had a long and interesting conversation, with that very girl I dreamed of having sex with. That is all she told me, that I called, that we spoke for some time, and then she clammed up and absolutely refused to tell me the substance of the conversation. But there was an agitation, and a series of strange, worried, but also, somehow fascinated looks, that made it clear that, well, Something Happened.

And this was way way way before the idea of “phone sex” was ever heard. I mean, 1979. Such a thing is within the realm of possibility now, from articles I have read, phone sex is common now. I am not kidding, phone sex is actually a very difficult topic to even consider, for someone of my generation, we wonder how, why, whats that about?

No, that would have been beyond inconcievable, back then.

But I got the impression, that she got to witness, through the telephone, my sex dream.

And I was so seriously scared about all this, as I said, I have never ever done anything I don’t remember doing, I was afraid I was going insane.

She never spoke of it again but she did not run away, so it must not have been that bad.

I wake up some mornings with the taste of famous women, or women I see at work, in my mouth. I dream them up, but then they disappear as fast as I have my way with them. As I wake up, I remember the woman sleeping beside me and what she might want. So now I have to merge the lingering wisps of the others and the fact of the woman next to me. At this point, I have to wake up and do what I hope she’s dreamed about.

I do remember one lucid dream, where I was riding in a cab, the driver was a handsome swarthy someone and I managed to realize I was dreaming and could do anything I wanted to so I crept up over the seat and kissed him. And then I woke up.

Needless to say, that was nowhere near the extent of doing “anything I wanted to”.

@Pedonator: Yes! Thats it. That nightmarish quality, of having a goal constantly thwarted by strange and unexpected circumstannces. Yes, that was my sex life, when I was single, both waking and dreaming.

And on the miraculous occasions when the goal came to me, I was so nonplussed, that I totally screwed the pooch every time.

@Promnight: I was so nonplussed, that I totally screwed the pooch every time

I assume you don’t mean that literally.

No. I did stupid things like, turn them down. Don’t ever turn a woman down, men out there, there is no upside in turning them down.

@Promnight: That was one of my absolute favorite movies when I was in the ’80’s. I remember at one point the protagonist, Griffin Dunne, was mummified, like, literally wrapped up in bandages like a mummy, and I must admit I got a little thrill from that.

@blogenfreude: I wake up some mornings with the taste of famous women, or women I see at work, in my mouth.

How do you know that taste? Because I think if you could tell me, and if I could transpose that talent to the men at work I regularly find, um, taste-worthy, I could use that…for world peace of course.


I saw an amazing film tonight that would give Bollywood a run for their rupees. It’s a musical about a bored and lonely teenager who becomes a modern day Puck from A Midsummer Night’s Dream who spreads mischief with an enchanted love potion. Filled with exquisite singing and cheeky dancing. Absolutely charming, and quite funny–especially when those under the potion’s spell begin speaking in Shakespearean prose. It made me want to burst out into iambic pentameter, if only I were so eloquent.

I have three kinds of dreams:

1. CIA dreams, where I am breaking codes and skulking around corners and shuttling people from one border to another;

2. Dreams in which my dead grandmother comes back to hang out with my family, and we all know she’s dead and we’re so psyched to have her back for a bit;

3. Dreams where I fall in love with a man, and the whole dream is nothing but that awesome feeling of being in first love.

Usually my sex dreams take place on island vacations, which my Freudian therapist found amusing for reasons she did not divulge.

@Original Andrew: I will look for it. I’m going to San Francisco Monday and if it’s not playing there it’s not playing anywhere. I have to say, I’m somewhat troubled by the wings. But… I shall go with an open mind. Music sounds nice.

I sometimes have dreams where I’m playing music in a jazz combo, much better than I can actually play. Sometimes in these dreams I’m playing the sax, which in real life I don’t play at all.

I often dream of trains. And Queen Elvis.


Some of the dialogue is a bit hokey, but the singing is exquisite and the music can’t be beat. Astonishingly romantic. Here’s the theme song to Were the World Mine.

I have had sex dreams, and they are always with the same person, a wonderful boyfriend I had while I was in the navy. Sadly, he was an alcoholic, and our relationship suffered because of his disease. He wasn’t a mean drunk most of the time, but he started drinking to the point of blacking out, and one day I told him I thought he might have a problem. He was supersensitive to the idea that he might be an alcoholic, had been court-mandated to attend AA at one point after getting a DUI (this was before I met him), and he was a proud IRA wannabe American Irishman. He was worried that the stereotype of the drunken Irishman might hold true for him.

I was very sensitive to his fears/concerns/denial (?), and I tried as gently as possible to tell him that I thought he needed help. When he and I lived together (with Jr who was two years old), I told him that we would go out and get our drunk on instead of keeping the case of Bud in the fridge with the milk and bread. I didn’t want Jr to grow up thinking that Bud was a staple of life. But then I got out of the Navy, moved far away from my love, taking the closest job I could find near him, and the drinking went out of control. It was like as long as I was a daily influence on his life, his drinking was pretty much under control with only a few slip ups that caused discord in our relationship. Once I moved away, he would call me drunk, talk to me for over and hour and then call me the next day with no recollection of the previous day’s conversation. It was sad.

I still love him, although we haven’t had any contact since 1995 when he called me to tell me he was getting married (to someone he dated for ten months after we broke up). He’s on the internet here and there, and I Google him from time to time to see what he’s up too. He seems okay.

But in my dreams, we talk about why we broke up and we get back together. Even in my dream state I can feel my heart swell with love and joy when we reconcile. And we make love. Sometimes I wake up and think the dream actually happened only to realize moments later that it was just a dream. But I’m never too disappointed, because I pretend that we were sharing the same dream that night, and the feelings of love, joy and contentedness last even after reality sets in. Carey was the love of my life, even if he was a terrible kisser. He is a good man, and I hope he is a happy man. I miss him terribly.

I don’t have sex dreams. I often dream about being stuck in a hotel with my crazy family. Dunno what that means. The worst dream I ever had happened the week after my boyfriend broke up with me and my best friend died suddenly in the same week. I dreamed that everything was as it had been, neither of those things had happened, and we were all happy. Then I woke up, realized it was just a dream, and cried for four hours straight.

@JNOV: You’re making me cry. That was beautiful. And that’s why we have all missed you so much lo these many weeks.

Re: the topic. I have freakishly lucid dreams. Unless I take an Ambien or some other narcotic, I always remember my dreams. At least twice a week, I have to consciously wake myself up during a dream. It’s a little weird to have lucid dreams nightly. I have a level of detachment where it’s like being at the movies. But sometimes I get way into my dreams and Mr. SFL has to wake me up because I’m thrashing or sobbing or laughing.

If I kept a notebook or my laptop next to my bed, I could probably retire, because I could write down all of my dreams into novels or TV shows. The closest approximation to my dreams is the show Six Feet Under. That should give you a hint of what I’m dealing with in my head.

@SanFranLefty: Oh, Baby Girl, don’t cry. These are good dreams, and I’m glad to have them. Six Feet Under is my most favorite show ever. Ever. How are your dreams similar to the show? Are you Claire? “Tharm!” <– I want that t-shirt.

So after I wrote that, last night, I had one of those dreams, tantalus, it was strange, took place in a big hotel in a city, but it seemed more like Europe. The people interrupting were people from my past, from high school, like it was a reunion. I seemed to be single in the dream, and the object of desire, I do not know who she was, just a dream of perfection, she would say, OK, you just have to go to the car and get something, I will be here, and I would try to go to the car, and be sidetracked, and the car wasn’t there, and people would derail my quest, and I would be getting more and more anxious, hours go by, would she still be there when I finally got back, and she would, but then there would be another interruption, another errand, quest, another diversion, would she still be there, and on and on.

@Original Andrew: That’s charming. Imaginative setting. I have a soft spot for the play. I was once a big green fairy in a production in London. Got my union card.

@JNOV: I’m a little too much like Clare sometimes. Except I drove a ginormous ’70s van around my high school in Texas instead of a hearse around Pasadena.

That show sort of captured my dreams.

I really should start writing them down one of these days. They’re pretty fucked up. I spend half of the day deconstructing my lucid dreams in half of my brain and the other half operating with what’s in front of me. That’s why I take Ambien – it means I can’t remember my dreams and Ican focus the next morning on what’s in front of me.

@SanFranLefty: I take all kinds of stuff that makes me drowsy (hence my absence from the party here during the late evenings). Recently I was checking my bank statement online, and I noticed a recent debit to McDonalds. I thought, “Motherfucker! Jr took my debit card while I was asleep and bought himself a shitton of McDonalds! He knows not to take such liberties with the debit card, especially when I’m not working right now and we’re subsisting on peanut butter sandwiches. I’m gonna kill him.”

So, later in the day I see Jr, and I’ve calmed down a lot, but I’m still annoyed and I said, “Hey! What’s with this hitting the McDonalds 24-hr drive thru without my permission? You can’t just be taking the debit card without my permission.”

Jr: But I had your permission.

Me: Huh?

Jr: I felt pretty bad about waking you up, but I woke you up and asked you if I could have the three dollars in your wallet to go to McDonalds.

Me: Oh?

Jr: And you said, “I can’t believe you’re waking me up for this shit!”

Me: Hmmmm…that does sound like something I’d say…

Jr: Then you asked me how much money I had and whether 3 extra dollars would be enough. You said to take the card just in case.

Me: That conversation actually sounds kind of familiar…

Jr: You seemed totally with it and lucid, Mom. I would never take the card without your permission.

Me: Yeah, it really seemed out of character. Sorry to falsely accuse you, kiddo, but damn! How does one human being spend $11+ at McDonalds for a meal?

Jr: I was really, really hungry.

Me: Look. Now that we know I have some wacky weird amnesia when you wake me up, don’t go asking for all sorts of shit in the middle of the night. I’m liable to promise you anything, and that’s just not fair when I’m all out of sorts.

Jr: Heheheheh.

Back to Six Feet Under — the thing that amazed me was that I have this phobia about death. Pure unadulterated fear, yet my favorite series ever was about dealing with life while dealing with and making a living because of death. Somehow, some way, that show touched me very, very deeply. Kind of like David Foster Wallace touched me. I think I’m drawn to dramatic morbidity because that’s how my life feels at times.

OK, I’m late to the party again. What else is new.
In 1975 I bought a book called “Creative Dreaming” by a women named Garfield. It was an early attempt to teach folks to have self-aware dreams, and to control those dreams. At the time I was very interested in expanding consciousness beyond what I had already achieved through (ahem) chemical means.
The techniques for having/recording these dreams worked for me. For several years, I followed the process as set forth in the book. The results were tremendous, and I strongly suggest that anyone who has not explored this avenue do so.
I expect that other (possibly better) how-to books followed. My intuition is that the specific technique isn’t the primary determining factor in success, but rather that the search itself provides the prerequesite for success, and as with most endevours, there are multiple paths to a desired end. I still quite frequently use the techniques I learned 30+ years ago. They allow me to gain insights I would not normally have.
Oh, and you can make your dreams into wonderfully fulfilling episodes in your life. Seriously. Really wonderful parts of your life, and primary outlets/source material for any creative impulses you have.
Seriously, and especially if you are one of those “I can’t remember my dreams” people, find a lucid dreaming technique that works for you. It’s worth $30k in payments to a shrink.

@Ewalda: So save me the trip to the Half Price Books to dig this up and tell me what the technique is.


JNOV, darling, do not fear Death.
Do not welcome it, but do not fear it.
Death comes to all. Individual consciousness does not survive Death.
All that survives is the memory left with those who knew/loved you, and that, too, will quickly fade.
There are no Great Mysteries as regards Death. You are your own Judgement.
Just remember that your individual consciousness will not last very long after your body dies. It dissapates quickly, and you might as well just be the peaceful Watcher, beacuse, after a certain point, you cannot influence the progression of Death one way or the other.

@SanFranLefty: It’s actually a bit complicated if you haven’t done it before.
The way to get to a point where you can recognize the dream state involves starting to write down everything when you first wake up. After a while, you will suddenly become aware that you are dreaming while still in your dream. Then the fun begins as you learn to guide your dreams while still in the dream state.
Seriously, it’s not something you just decide to do one day and are immediately successful at.

@SanFranLefty: We kept dream journals in my high school psychology class. Some people picked it up right away. Others couldn’t remember a single dream the entire semester. I was somewhere in between. You just have to try and see.

@Ewalda: Dude, I totally guide my dreams. It’s like I’m watching expanded cable every fucking night. I take NyQuil so I can relax and not deal with the 87 channels in my head at night and just black out. I seriously sit there when I’m sleeping in my head and go “Oh this is fucked up, I don’t like it” and try to think of something else to dream about. Or I say “This is groovy keep going” – the thrashing and nightmares happen when I can’t change the channel because it’s something bad from my past that I’d rather not revisit.

So is this all kind of weird? Am I the only person who does this? How should I guide my dreams? I always try to direct them to my dog but then I get caught up in nightmares where someone is hurting my puppy and I can’t rescue her.

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