My Dream Diary, Part 1

by Rebecca Freed

As a psychiatrist I am fully acquainted with the powerful nature of our dream life. Did you know that over the course of our lifetimes we will spend eight years in a dreaming state. Think of it, eight years in a land of shadows where all inhibitions are lost all things are possible. The danger of course is to bring your dream world, the world of the unreal, into your waking life. I have a 13-year-old daughter. She is lovely, honey brown hair, fair skin, beautiful green eyes and a body which it seems in one year has blossomed into that of a young woman. Robin has firm yet small breasts, a flat tummy and as a swimmer powerful legs and a perfect bubble bum. As a divorced single mom, I have left sex behind for the most part. Perhaps I have suppressed it too much. What follows are my dream diaries, and what followed in the waking world. Dear reader I leave it to you to decide what dreams have brought me to. Please leave your comments and insights.

Dream 1: A Walk in the park

I’m in the park two blocks from our home. Robin is with me and so is Mocha our female golden lab. Mocha is off the leash and Robin is holding my hand. As we walk along the path, the sun is shining and it feels good on my skin. I’m in sweats and a t-shirt and Robin is wearing a tight jean skirt and a baby-blue tank top. We have brought a small picnic and set the blanket. I see Mocha not far from where Robin and I have stopped. He is barking at a tree. Robin and I go over to investigate. As we approach the mid-size tree, I notice a knot just below where the tree forts into two large branches. How odd I think, the knot on the tree is shaped like a vagina. Kim walks ahead of me. She pats Mocha’s head to try and calm her down.

“Wow Mom, look at this. This tree has a pussy!” Robin sounds as if she has just found a pot of gold. She moves closer to the crotch of the tree reaches out and touches what seem to be soft green folds in the park.

“Oh it's soft Mom,” she says looking back at me. She lets her fingers trace the folds of the tree letting two of her fingers enter a hole that has opened in the tree. She looks back at me and lifts her skirt. I see Robin’s legs part as she reaches under with her free hand and parts her legs. Astounded I watch as my daughter simultaneously fingers the tree vagina and her own. The tree is visibly trembling. Robin removes her fingers from the tree and brings them to her mouth and closes her eyes as she tastes them. Mocha jumps up, her paws on the branches on either side of the tree’s crotch, and begins licking at the green vagina. She arches her back and lowers her legs and begins rubbing her doggy pussy on the thick grass. The tree is virtually shaking now and so is Robin as she looks at Mocha.

“Yeah you hot bitch, lick that tree’s cunt.” She is quickly thrusting her fingers in and out of her wet pussy. My eyes are transfixed on her fingers there. Robin throws back her head and groans—then I wake.

On Waking:

I quickly wrote down the vivid dream each detail outlined in my mind like a hot red coal. As I wrote I was aware of that my nightgown clung to my body. I was covered in sweat. I was also aware of a growing wetness in my pussy. What was happening to me? When I finished writing the dream I pulled my nightgown off and lay back on the bed. My breathing was still labored as I read through the dream again. This was such a peculiar sexual dream. Why the lustful tree and how to account for what Robin does? What does she represent in this dream. I was too agitated to go to sleep.

I got up only in my panties. I walked to the kitchen took the mango juice from the fridge and poured a glass. I took a large gulp. Did this have anything to do with Robin declaring that she was bisexual. It had happened just the day before. She had picked her up from St. Cecilia’s, a private school. She watched Robin who had not yet seen the car. She was talking intently with Jasmine a Japanese exchange student. They looked so smart in their school uniforms. Pleated skirts, white blouses and knee socks. I liked the values and intellectual rigor that they advanced at St. Cecilia’s, and an opportunity to learn tolerance learning side by side with foreign exchanged students. Robin had talked a lot about jasmine and how smart she was. They were often on the phone nights exchanging homework tips and talking about other things. I am a firm believer in a child’s right to privacy. I watched as Jasmine leaned forward and whispered something in Robin’s ear. As she did this she took Robin’s hand interlacing her fingers with my daughter’s. Robin seemed to blush at the words Jasmine was whispering in her ear. Then her face broke into a big smile, and she hugged Jasmine—a hard, long hug, no space between the two girls; their bodies were tight together. This surprised me but it didn’t seem out of place given the girls’ growing friendship. A moment later Robin saw the car and came straight away waving goodbye to Jasmine.

“Hi Mom,” she said climbing into the car.

“Hi honey, did you have a good day at school?”

“Great Mom. I love my friends. That’s what makes every day great!”

I liked her enthusiasm, and I smiled at her. “That’s good dear, you seem very close to Jasmine?”

“Oh Mom she’s great. She’s helped me figure out a lot of things.”

“Oh, Like what?”

“Well,” there was a long pause, then Robin said softly, “I know now I’m bisexual. And Mom I don’t want you to start in analyzing me, or using your psycho-lingo on me. I’ve figured this out, and that’s that.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything honey. I mean you are of a certain age and it’s not surprising that you would have feelings for….”

“That’s exactly what I don’t want you to do Mom. Stop it. When I’m ready we can talk about this. But I don’t want to do it now. OK?” Robin emphasized the final word then fell into a silence that lasted the rest of the way home.

I took another gulp from the glass and rested it on my chest. The cool glass slipped over my breast. I let the bottom circle my sensitive nipple. My mind wandered back to the images in the dream, robin’s actions in particular. I sat down on the couch to finish my drink. I hear the familiar clicking of Mocha’s paws on the linoleum floor in the kitchen. She was awake and soon entered the living room and came to my side. I placed my hand on her soft head scratched behind her ears. She was a two year old and soon I would need to breed her for her first litter of pups. She would soon be going into heat, if she weren’t already. She would call the breeder she brought Mocha from to take care of this soon.

I remembered the role Mocha had played in the dream, how she was surly in heat as she licked the sex of the tree. How urgent Mocha had been as she fiercely rubed her sex on the grass.

I took another gulp and Mocha whimpered. She is such a human dog and wanted to have some of whatever we were.

“You big baby,” I said with a simile.

I reached two fingers into the glass and brought them out holding them out. Some dribbled on my leg as Mocha eagerly licked my fingers. Her tongue was wet and warm and felt rough against the balls of my fingers.

“That’s enough,” I said firmly as I took another small sip from the juice.

Mocha had other ideas. Her tongue suddenly lapped over my inner thigh where I had dribbled a bit of the juice. It was like an electric jolt through my body. In my heightened state of sensitivity and arousal I was unprepared for the rush of wetness I felt in my pussy. It was as if I were suddenly obsessed. I dipped my fingers in the mango juice once more but this time spread the juices over the crotch of my panties all the time thinking of Mocha’s tongue in the dream assaulting the green pussy of the tree. I spread my legs and without hesitation Mocha lapped at the juices sending my pussy into erotic fits of pleasure.

Oh God, I thought, this is so wrong. How can I be doing this? But I needed more. I moved forward on the couch so that my bum was on the very edge. I quickly pulled aside the thin material of my panties and slowly poured the cold juice over the folds of my inflamed pussy. Almost instantly Mocha began licking at the folds of my sex. Her rough tongue was almost more than I could stand. It was as if a thousand needles of pleasure had entered my pussy as her bumpy tongue was dragged along my slit and encountered my engorged clit. I groaned like an animal in heat. I thought of Robin in my dream, how unbelievably sexy she was lifting her skirt and telling Mocha to lick the tree.

I put my hands on Mocha’s ears and pointed her so her tongue was even more intense on my pussy. The sensations were so powerful I knew I was going to cum in seconds. I closed my eyes and in my mind’s eye I saw two figures between my legs. Mocha and Robin both intently licking at my flooded pussy, both looking up at me with expectant eyes. It was too much. I came with such a force my body rocked right off the couch. I think I blacked out because the next thing I knew Mocha was licking my face and chest and rubbing her obviously wet vagina on my hip. Her whimpers were urgent and obviously her feeding on my pussy had excited her greatly. I couldn’t believe how aroused I was by this dog and how hard I came. I moved my hand under her thrashing body and found her fury sex. Lifting it from my hip I let my fingers trace the outlines of her doggy cunt. Without thinking I let a finger slip inside and she yelped again. She began humping this time against my finger and my palm rubbed hard against the rest of her sex. Mocha made sounds I had never heard before, huffs of pleasure, moans too. I could feel the convulsions begin seconds later as my hand was flooded with doggie cum and I licked out at her tongue as she licked my face and neck. I brought my hand wet with her juices to her nose and Mocha licked it clean.

What a night. I would eventually sleep but this time I would awake without remembering my dream. I awoke confused and disoriented. What had I dreamed last night and what had I allowed happen upon awaking? Was I losing touch with reality? I needed to get up and get on with my day but I felt unhinged, as if I were no longer sure I could be accountable for my actions. As a psychiatrist, I felt out to sea. What in the world was happening to me?