Sarahjanus's Blog

January 19, 2015

First gay dream

Filed under: crossdresser — Tags: , , , — Sarah Michelle @ 12:37 pm

On my drab side the world has been anything but drab for the past week. A family occasion of significant solemnity was reduced to a weekend long farce. As interesting as that may be to write about, this is not the venue for that exploration.

What I am interested in recording is the occurrence of my first ever homosexual dream. Sex does not happen often in my household. We are well below the national and provincial average for frequency, if the respondents to the surveys aren’t lying, as they may in the locker-room.

And as an aside; I must learn how to effectively pin this hair back. I’m not a touch typist so I have to look at the keyboard, which means this bob cut wig is constantly falling across my face. I am not yet conditioned to “look through” the distraction even though it really doesn’t impair my vision. It is simply a distraction. Today is, among other things, a house-keeping day which means vacuuming and laundry, activities that require bending over and falling hair. I can’t sit or stand all day in “model” pose to keep my hair where I want it. I can appreciate now why so many women tie it back whether it’s a good look for them or not.

Back to the dream, even at my age, which is mature, I still have sex dreams occasionally. They are not frequent and they usually happen in the sleep limbo time as I am coming out of a deep sleep, heading towards wakefulness. Only rarely do they happen deep in the night, or perhaps, only rarely do they disturb my sleep deep in the night. The break-of-dawn dreams can be quite intense. They occasionally involve women I know but generally the participants are faceless and nameless. The dreams never end with a climax for me. I always wake up before that point. Sometimes it is only a heartbeat or two from that point. I can’t remember the last time I woke up after a dream climax. It must be decades ago.

This most recent dream also happened on the cusp of wakefulness. It was also quite intense and it also ended before it concluded. Anyone who reads this can have fun with the analysis. I’m not big on dream interpretation beyond the obvious. I’ve been diagnosed with a degree of PTSD and I’ve reviewed all my nightmares with my therapist so I don’t believe in going too deep to find a hidden meaning. Besides, I think this one is obvious. The analysis is probably more of wishful thinking than anything-else. I look forward to any comments and I hope they are entertaining.

The dream took place in a vague environment of tilted abstract rooms. This is common in my dreams, good and bad. My floors are never level. My walls are never straight and my doors are often partway up a wall, similar to a window. Moving from room to room is always a struggle and within a room I am never on balance. As I said before, it is classic PTSD.

I had an audience. The audience was all females. I believe they knew me and I knew them but I didn’t recognize any of them. The other participant was a man who was fondling me while I struggled to find his penis. He was arousing me and I believe I was having the same effect on him but I wasn’t certain. As soon as I felt I had his erection in my hand the dream would shift and I would lose the certainty and have to grope again. It wasn’t that he was moving away or withdrawing. It was that the dream would refocus the whole scene and leave me groping again.

That went on for a while with a measure of confidence that we were both enjoying the moment until I changed my approach. I began trying to get my mouth to his erection with the same limited success as I had with the masturbation. No sooner would I have him in my mouth, sucking lustily than the dream would refocus and I would have to begin the approach again. Remember this is in a room with no firm walls or floors, so moving about is incredibly difficult.

If this were a short porn story I would go into great detail about each of the activities but it isn’t (yet). So I’ll just cover the big picture. Eventually my oral ministrations were successful enough that we both were ready to move to the finale. In the dream I was fully aroused, fully engaged, passionate and wanting him to take me lustily and with equal passion until he climaxed with vigor and a roar.

No matter how I struggled, I couldn’t position him for that finale, neither could he position himself. With these break-of-dawn dreams I usually realize partway through that they are dreams. The same consciousness occurred here. I knew it was dream but I tried to stay in it and keep it in focus. For the oral copulation, I knew what was happening. I was participating actively, enthusiastically, wantonly. I rarely had a clear focused detailed image of his erection in my mind but I had all the other sensations working for me. I could feel it, in my hand and in my mouth. I could hear him. I could sense the physical closeness of his body, the texture of his pubic hair, trimmed but not short. I was aware of the presence of the others, their movement as they shifted to watch, their muted conversations which were sounds without words.

But for the finale, I couldn’t bring the actions into focus. I couldn’t position him. I was on my back, reaching for him but he faded every time he tried to get close. I struggled for what seemed like an eternity before the dream finally broke and I slipped, frustrated into darkness before finally returning to wakefulness and disappointment. I was amused by having had a homosexual dream. I was disappointed by the incomplete act. In my heterosexual dreams, bringing my partner to climax is an integral part of the dream, even if, as I said I don’t get there. I am intrigued by the observation that this didn’t happen in this instance.

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January 16, 2015

This is me!

Filed under: crossdresser — Sarah Michelle @ 12:37 pm

This author writes of indirect gender dysphoria. The description is the closest I’ve found yet to what I feel. It reinforces (for me) the concept that my gender conflict is somewhere on a continuum rather than an either/or proposition. I’m not a techie and I don’t know how to smoothly and efficiently post links so I’m doing this the old-fashioned cut and paste method; http://freethoughtblogs.com/zinniajones/2013/09/that-was-dysphoria-8-signs-and-symptoms-of-indirect-gender-dysphoria/

January 13, 2015

Breaking the ice, the absence

Filed under: crossdresser — Sarah Michelle @ 11:21 am

This morning I break the ice of a two year absence. Sites like Crossdressers.com prepared me for the ebb and flow that being a closet crossdresser can bring. I returned to this blog because it is the only safe and secret place that I have to be totally honest with myself. Entries into computer files and diaries can be found and read. This is arm’s length enough that I feel safe.

I am also humbled when I return here and see the vastly more serious entries of those that I follow.  I truly believe that the world is embarking upon World War III but unlike the previous two, this will be a war on the doorsteps of us all.. The deaths of so many non-combatants at the hands of those who have hijacked an otherwise peaceful religion is a tragedy beyond description. Who am I to write about the stress of being a closet crossdresser when so many in the world live in fear for their lives?

I like to travel. I love Europe, the Mediterranean and Africa as well as North America. There is so much history and culture and the people I have encountered so far have been welcoming. It will be a sad reality if my looking around me now is because of the threat of harm rather than the innocent wide-eyed wonder at the world’s beauty. I will continue to travel.

Two years ago I weaned myself off two prescription drugs. One was an anti-depressant and the other for the treatment of adult ADD. In the months that followed I lost all interest in dressing. I attributed that loss to the absence of the drugs. I couldn’t bring myself to throw out all my clothes though. I love my femme clothes. My drab clothes have only a minimalist social purpose. I have what I need to dress in drab for the occasions that I encounter, two aging suits, jeans for the motorcycle, and extremely casual clothes for all other moments. My femme clothes have style and colour. I threw out some of what I had. I kept my favorite clothes and materials as well as shoes and jewelry.

Occasionally I would pull the box out of the closet and sort through everything, handling it with fondness and a sense of loss and want. It has been long established that I am a coward and I will never step out of the shadows to proclaim who I truly am, but in the last month the drives and needs have returned.

The drugs haven’t, didn’t, so I don’t know what the trigger was. I only know I have to dress again to be comfortable in myself during my day. I have dressed for three days in the last month and as with many addictions or obsessions, the more I dress the more I want to.  I’m a bit like an alcoholic in that respect. I have to deny myself completely in order to avoid relapses and even then, apparently, I can fall off the wagon.

We’ll see how long this motivated state lasts. I know that not only am I dressing during the day but I am shopping again, looking for new clothes, new dresses. I am shopping a bit more carefully. I have a better idea of what I like and what doesn’t fit me, but I am shopping.  I haven’t thought much about what I’m doing and why so this is a short entry. It simply records, for me, the fact that I am back where I was two years ago. Now I have to see if it is same place, same person or if either have evolved.

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