Sweet Dreams

One of the girls celebrated her birthday this week. We gathered at Employees Only, a cool-as-hell bar in the West Village. The bartenders are ingenious mixologists, alchemists in hip-length, pharmacist-looking, white coats.

I had a flute of champagne, Surfer Girl had a vodka-and-tonic, L-Diva had a custom-made rose drink (which included house-made chai-infused vermouth, yo!). I went for it, the question brewing in my brain.

"Do you ever come in your sleep?"

Surfer Girl's eyebrows shot straight up. "What?"

"You know. Come. Full-on, full-tilt, deep, body-shaking orgasm. In your sleep."

"Whoa..."

"In my sleep, anyway."

L-Diva leaned in. "What did you say?"

"She comes in her sleep." Surfer Girl gestured to me. Uh-oh, I thought. Proof yet again that I am odd.

"You do?" L-Diva asked. "Like, in an erotic dream?"

"Well," I hesitated. "The dreams are erotic. I suppose they have to be. But it's my subconscious, working overtime. I'm not responsible..."

They both laughed. "What did you dream?"

"It was a bar of soap. Someone from behind slipped a bar of soap into me - and I came." 

L-Diva reached over to touch my forearm. "What kind of soap?"

"Huh?"

""Yeah," Surfer Girl added. "Ivory? Dove? What did it look like?"

"What did it look like?" I asked back, taking a moment to tap into the vague dream-image. "White, creamy, rectangular-ish, but the corners were rounded, softened." 

L-Diva and Surfer Girl nodded in agreement. I was about to add, "Probably hand-milled, the kind you get in Whole Body."

"Dove. Definitely. Dove bar." Surfer Girl interrupted.

And we dropped the subject. Something distracted us. A cute Frenchman in a striped suit. Yep.

But the thought, the question lingers. I know when the feeling starts, deep up between my legs. The sensation precedes the dream. I think my dreams accommodate the sensation. And I will myself not to wake up. Stay in it, please stay in it. So far, I've managed to stay in it. It's like being born up on a slow moving wave, riding it as it crests, than crashing inside shuddering, contracting, expanding explosions. Damn, it feels good. Nothing better.

I'm not the only woman I know who comes in her dreams. I asked one of my girlfriends in Colorado - I think we were driving to Vail - just said in a soft voice, "Yes." My hands gripped the steering wheel, I looked over at her.

"You too?"

She smiled. "Mmm-hmm."

And we both smiled, like initiates into a private club. Our private club. She got it.

One of my girls, like me, in her 40s, admitted to it too, one night as we walked to our homes, just two blocks away from each other. She stopped at a red-light don't-walk intersection, and took my hand.

"Oh baby, darlin', yes." She really got it.

"Don't you wish you could have one every night? Don't you wish you could program your mind, your body to do it every night? Sometimes, before I go to sleep, I say, to no one in particular, please let me have one tonight. Please."

"Oh, honey. Yes."

I told The Depilitator about my in-sleep orgasms.

"Great," he said. "Further proof that men will be obsolete."

Not so fast, oh-hairless one.

Maybe tonight, though, maybe tonight.

Comments

[Anonymous L]

I just had a birthday but I can't wait to turn 40!!!!

[Seawall]

I don't think its the provenance of the 40's, a good friend of mine in her early 30's has the same "gift". though her downside is she says she rarely orgasms during intercourse. lucky that's not the point of sex!! :=) great blog H.
Seawall

[Holly Hodder]

Seawall, so true. I've put the question out there, and at least one thiry-something friend has copped to the dream-event. The fuzzy research (my opinion) suggests that the incidence increases after a woman reaches a certain age. Which is more wonderful. For us.

[Yodapetcostume]

She's no liar that HH. But I would prefer, mostly, to be awake.

HH: Mostly. But I'll take what I can get.