Erotic Dreams

by Brad Nelson5/13/15

This is a true story, or at least a true recounting. I woke up Saturday morning with a smile on my face because I had a terrific dream. No, it doesn’t involve whipping cream, double-d’s, or any of that stuff. I almost never have those dreams for some reason.

This one starts out in the parking lot of a concert hall where a rather large crowd is milling about, making their way to the entrance. The concert (a female cellist, as it turns out) is starting soon. But the cellist is only peripheral to the story.

So there I am, milling around in this crowd, bumping shoulders as I wade through the humanity and make my way to the entrance. And out of the corner of my eye I see a big black limo pull up about twenty yards away. A man gets out and yells something like, “Hey, Brad, over here. Get in.” And wouldn’t you know it. It’s Frank Sinatra.

So I get in the limo with him and we make some small talk like old pals. The limo then drives past the waiting mob and takes us straight to the entrance where we disembark the car and walk right past those at the very front of the line and into the concert hall. Ah, the perks of being a Friend of Frank.

We have some more small talk inside in the lobby. Frank gets a call or something and has to go and we say goodbye. A few minutes later I leave as well. I’m back in the crowded parking lot with oodles of people still milling around trying to get in. And then I spot another friendly face walking towards me as I’m walking out. Why, it’s Sammy Davis Jr. and he gives me some of his Sammy Davis Jr. shtick like we was old pals.

And that’s pretty much how the dream ends. No, there was no sex with the cellist. It couldn’t have topped what occurred in the dream as it was. I woke up with a smile on my face and a feeling of satisfaction. It’s just a dream, a fantasy. But a good one. Much better than the kind where you’re back in school and you realize you’re only wearing your underwear.


Brad is editor and chief disorganizer of StubbornThings.
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Brad Nelson

About Brad Nelson

I like books, nature, politics, old movies, Ronald Reagan (you get sort of a three-fer with that one), and the founding ideals of this country. We are the Shining City on the Hill — or ought to be. However, our land has been poisoned by Utopian aspirations and feel-good bromides. Both have replaced wisdom and facts.

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4 Responses to Erotic Dreams

  1. Kung Fu Zu Kung Fu Zu says:

    Did you take something before going to bed? A couple of nights back, I took a good dose of night time cough medicine. Boy, what a strange dream I had. Bizarre would just about describe it. It was something like a 1930’s musical film full of fantastically beautiful women.

    I have never had such a dream. Unfortunately, the cough medicine upsets my stomach.

    • Brad Nelson Brad Nelson says:

      My brother was telling me on the way out the door last night that surely Dean Martin would make an appearance in my dreams tonight. Didn’t happen. I had a bunch of disjointed dreams. Even if I could remember them exactly, they wouldn’t make much sense. Surely there is truth in the idea that some dreams are caused by just random flashes in the brain.

      But other dreams are obviously about working problems out. And some (like the one I described) are just fanciful thoughts. No harm done. It’s like writing a book but in your dreams. “The Day I Met Frank Sinatra.”

      I don’t tend to eat anything before going to bed. But I’ve never found any kind of correlation with food and dreams, and least for myself. I did go through an interesting period about 6 or 7 years ago. I’m reluctant to talk about it because it wouldn’t make much sense, sounds too spooky, and I’m still not sure what it was.

      But for about a year I had what I would call “intense” dreams. Not nightmares. But it seemed almost every night I had very “active” dreams of some sort…almost as if my head was a battleground. The specifics of the dreams are very hazy and wouldn’t at all describe the experience anyway. The best way to describe the experience is that I would often wake up in the morning, ironically chuckling to myself, feeling physically spent and thinking, “Well, that (having a night’s sleep) was a total waste of time.”

      This went on for about a year. What’s interesting about this is that there was nothing special going on in my life. No trauma. No love affairs gone wrong. No problems at work. Nothing. And yet if felt as if there was a battle going on in my head…a battle that left no impression in the waking hours other than a bit of fatigue in the morning.

      I still don’t know what it was. And not being given to leaps of fantasy, self-indulgence, or mysticism as a reflex (I at least like to think I have a pretty square head on my shoulders), this is one reason I’ve always been reluctant to even write about it. It’s an anomaly.

      Maybe Dean will come tonight. I’d love to get on stage with the Rat Pack and belt out a tune.

      • Timothy Lane says:

        Some dreams can be based on reality. Once, when I was living on the top floor of an apartment building, it was raining — and I dreamed that I was all over the place dealing with leaks in the roof. (In fact, I never had one, which is one way I knew it was a dream rather than reality.)

  2. Timothy Lane says:

    I’ve has some weird anachronistic dreams over the years, mixing together people from my present with the family as it was a half-century ago (before my father died), often in the home we moved to in Louisville in 1966 (in between both). But it’s been a while since I had a dream I remember after waking. I think it only happens when you wake up in the middle of the dream or immediately after it ends.

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