the temptation of cain

Dreams are often said to explain things we don’t consciously acknowledge. I’m not sure if this explains the dream I referred to here, but maybe it does. Maybe even at a young age I was forced into self-honesty.

I discovered my fundamental difference in second grade. After that dream, I understood my other classmates did not feel the world the same as I did. They did not hunger for the same type of interaction with others.

It was simple and devastating. I accepted it because it was true. Because I awoke tingling and alive, ashamed to meet the eyes of the boy I dreamed of, wondering if he shared the same dream. Crushed he most likely did not.

the dream

I was standing in a department store near the top of the escalators. It was a familiar store, one my family had been in several times. I don’t know why I picked it, something about it fascinated me (probably the coin-operated horse around the other side of the escalator).

There were people going by because the store was open. I can’t remember if I was naked; probably.

A boy from school whom I liked (and still do) was with me. He bade me be still and went down in front of me, his mouth where my legs joined. He looked up at me and his face looked like a skull.

I was scared repulsed fascinated excited. The people passing by and looking at me were humiliating; the skull grinning up at me was terrifying; malice and decay behind his black eyes. I did not want to miss whatever it was he would do to me. I was in love.

(Continued)

As we seek to ascend, so we descend. — The Forked Tongue by Flagg.

I ordered this book on a whim while Googling a particular phrase. My instincts were on target, as the intro alone is the more concise in explaining the true nature of some of us than my fumbling attempts (not to be posted). Though I would love to reprint the intro in its entirety here, I recommend previewing the book on Lulu. Better yet, buy a copy and help support a fellow deviant.

This is not a BDSM handbook; I’ve had enough of those, thank you very much. It is a book about the soul of sexual violence — the connection between the physical and heart/mind/spirit. The expectation to kneel, by the right person in the right way, can affect in a way an hour of tedious paddling cannot. Without the connection, the physical only leads to soreness and mental irritation.

The book goes into a number of mental techniques to be used. In the end, isn’t it all mindfuck? There’s no point, otherwise.

the search

I realized my true nature through a dream in second grade (I might post that). I’ve been adding to my knowledge since. Privately, personally, with very few people. And now I’m in a stage of life where I’m quite free of personal commitments and entanglements. There is something I’ve long wanted to try…

(Continued)