Dreaming in BDSM color

I don’t usually recall my dreams.  But if I wake suddenly enough, I can.  Something about my waking mind wants to shut down every memory of my sleeping self.. which annoys the hell out of me frankly.  I have so much to learn from my dreams and some part of me wants this to be forbidden knowledge.  Clearly there are two side of me quietly at war here.  Well, that’s enough public introspection… on to the good stuff..

I woke suddenly and the dream I had been having was BDSM related. I made a mental note that I should blog on this and then fell back to sleep, not sure if I would remember.  Things I want to be sure to remember, I dictate to my phone, but I was too sleepy to make the effort.  Thank goodness Master B’s blog triggered that memory to the surface or it would have been lost.  Even after the dream memory had been triggered, I had to close my eyes, and struggled to find the will power that would cause it to come swimming up out of the murky waters that hide these dream memories.  Here is the dream

I was in a dungeon, Master and slaves milling about, and I entered a room to find one person belittling another.  Nothing unusual there.  But they had gone to far.  The cruel manner in which they had taken apart this slave with all of her psychological buttons had her visibly shaken.  As she struggled to hear the words flung at her, tears welled up in puffy eyes.  

I took this to be her Master, and while I didn’t have the full context of the situation I felt it my responsibility to step into this and take this Master down a notch or two.  Such a decision is not one I would take lightly, but in my estimation, they had gone past actions that corrected behavior, beyond even simple social torture, they were doing real harm.  It may be in our nature, for those who are sadists, to hurt another but we should never cause actual harm, we should never cause real damage.

As I began to turn the tables on the situation, the person who was doing all this damage turned quiet and shrunk under my attention. That was a pleasant moment at first for many reasons.  First, it was pleasurable because my seniority was recognized and respected and second, because I do get a mild pleasure from giving a good scolding.  But as the object of my lecture retreated further into themselves, I suddenly had a suspicion and asked, are you a Master or a slave?  “A slave came the answer”.

I was mortified.  I had yelled at a slave belonging to someone else.  I myself had crossed a line that I should not.   I should have gone to the owner and told them to reel in their slave.   I should have gone to the real decision maker in that relation and urged them to put a leash on that out of control mouth. 

I happens sometimes when we break protocol.. maybe we touch a slave without first asking permission.  Sometimes we are so happy to see a well known slave, we give a playful swat on the ass.. and it triggers a consent discussion.  These are embarrassing times, and it happens to the best of us.  We try to not give others who would take us down a notch, ammunition to do so.. but being human we do make mistakes. I don’t remember more of the dream, just the feeling of having fucked up.

Slaves that misbehave when their Master is not around are a bane on us all.  Especially when you later point out their bad behavior, and their Master shrugs it off.  You see this in some parents too.  They have these little monsters who go running through a grocery store smashing bags of chips and doing general destruction and when you tell that parent how poorly behaved their kid is, the kid puts on their hallow and acts like a little angel while the parent scowls at you.  Yeah, sometimes a chain of command, be it with slaves or child, doesn’t always work that well.

That observation aside, I know that dreams have meaning.  I know that not all dreams are unreal.  Sometimes we who are immortal use the dream state to travel to other times and places, our real selves tethered to our bodies by a silver strand.

Its why this block to my dream knowledge frustrates me.  My memory is highly selective about what I am allowed to remember.  I know that I have many memories I wish I could forget, but since you cannot undo the past, I tend to suppress those memories. I am certain that is the source of my trouble with dream memories.  Who chooses what to suppress?  Which me?  What is the part of me has full access to these suppressed memories?   My waking self is so damned determined to be the best me I can be.

I suddenly realized I am going down a wrong road with this line of thinking and that I am way off track.  I will leave that last paragraph intact because it shows my line of reason, how I arrived at the next paragraph.

When you meditate, there is a constant stream of thoughts.  If you are still and watch those thoughts, you can see all kinds of things.  We are not responsible for those thoughts.  What we are responsible for, is the ones we give weight to.  The thoughts we take, and wear like clothing, that we make part of ourselves.   I might dive into the difference between suppressing and selecting thoughts another time.

For now, I am happy to have remembered this dream. I have someone I need to write to in Fet now.

Carpe Diem my friends, follow your dreams..

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