I’ve had recurring romantic and/or erotic dreams about Sting since I was sixteen years old.
In my very first erotic dream, Sting showed up at my high school and jumped my bones in the hallway during a break between classes. It was awesome.
For twenty years now, I have had one of these dreams every six months or so. Many of them follow a continuous storyline in which we have a relationship that rekindles itself whenever I catch one of his concerts. He picks me out of the crowd and gestures for me to meet him backstage after his encores.
Last night he was some kind of enchanter. I was under his Tantric sexual control. Time away from him sped up to lightning speed. The only “real” time was with him, doing his bidding. Toward the end of the dream I tried to wrest control away from him while at the same time wanting to surrender.
The dreams cause me to wake up feeling desirable, attractive, wanted.
And yes, I am fully aware that Sting has no idea who I am.
I get the occasional celebrity dream. It almost always annoys me – leaves me feeling like my subconscious has been so raped by popular culture that when it thrashes around looking for something meaningful, all it can come up with is Matt Perry. However, I feel a lot less like complaining when I manage to score the occasional George Clooney sex dream.
(Was looking for a smiley that conveyed “Aaaaaahhhh” but couldn’t find one.)
Just last night I dreamed that Nicolas Cage was the owner of the convenience store/fast food place where I was waiting while Mr. Legend and someone else were out robbing a bank. He was wearing a yellow shirt with “Nic” embroidered on the pocket, and I was telling him how I didn’t even think of him as a celebrity, when he leaned over and kissed me. Then I realized with a start that I was wearing only a bathrobe and…
Well, you don’t need to know the rest of that one.
I haven’t had a good Sting sex dream in a very long time. Now I know why - he’s been busy with Gazelle!
