It Was Just A Dream

I have the most interesting dreams at times. I don’t always remember them, or if I do wake up and remember I often forget them by the end of the day. The ones I remember? They are the ones that evoke feelings, strong feelings. Over the years there have been many and they range from drowning to orgasming. I’ll take more orgasming ones please.

This week I had a dream about a co-worker of mine, we’ll call him Mr Hart (it’s a sunglasses thing). He’s quite the character, and always in a fun way to me but some find him rude or abrasive. The receptionist commented today that he needs to stop touching/adjusting himself so much in front of people. To be honest, I’ve never noticed this. I notice his shoes and the way he walks. I notice his clothes and when he wears a shirt that doesn’t have stripes. I notice when he gets a haircut and the two pairs of glasses that are always on his head. I’ve never notices the crotch adjustments. Now I’m likely not to notice anything but.

Mr Hart is on the list of men I work with that I would have sex with if the right opportunity presented itself. I work for a very large company with mostly male employees, but my list reflects that of a small company or one with a predominately female staff. Mr Hart is at the top of a list that consists of him, Phone Dude, a VP, The Brit out west, and one of our drivers. Five people. Pretty sad considering it’s a male dominated business with more that three thousand employees. I don’t know if my list is small because the men aren’t that appealing or because I am too picky.

But enough about the real life side of it, about this dream…

Mr Hart and I were in the training room at the office, naked and snuggled up under some blankets. We weren’t having sex though, we weren’t even talking about it. We were just snuggling under the blankets and acting rather like two teenagers who want to have sex but are too shy to say anything about it. Maybe it was just a sense of naivety, but maybe we were actually being shy.

He was laying on his back with his left arm around me. I at his side with my head resting on his ribs and my hand on his chest. I would gently rub my hand over his chest as we lay there. We’d make small talk, knowing what was on the others mind but being coy about it, enjoying the closeness, the intimacy. There was nobody there but us, although had we been in the middle of Grand Central I suspect it would have still felt as though we were the only two people in the world.

We lay there, chatting about nothing, being as close as I had ever been with anyone else, sharing an intimacy I couldn’t even begin to describe. It wasn’t sexual, yet it was completely sexual. There were no thoughts of fucking or playing. There was no tell-tale musky scent. No bumping or grinding or heavy breathing.

There was one thing, anticipation. Anticipation of a first kiss. It was heavy in the air, the big elephant in the room. We danced around it, teased each other with it. We would lean in, nearly touch lips, then move away. What were we doing? What would happen if we gave in to our desires? What came after the kiss? Forget the fact that somehow we were naked, we hadn’t even kissed!

I woke up still feeling that intimacy and thrill of anticipation. I wanted to go back to being wrapped up in his arms. My lips were soft and swollen, ready for that kiss.

I would see Mr Hart several times at the office later that day. We didn’t speak as we didn’t have any work with each other that day. But there seemed to be looks, knowing looks like he could read my mind and see the thoughts I had in there of him and I. All day it felt like he was continuing the tease from my dream.

The oddest thing was that at some point I genuinely thought the dream was real, that it had happened and we had shared that evening together. I was rapping my brain trying to remember what had happened after the snuggling. What did we do? How did I get home? Why couldn’t I remember what I did after? Then I realized it was all just a dream. There was nothing more to remember.

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