Okay, I admit it. Two nights ago I awoke from an amazing dream flushed with sandy excitement and the salt of morning grogginess. I was coming back into being from a sordid sex dream with Judge Judy as the object of my unwitting desire.
Our dreams speak truths to us and I wonder if my experience with the television judge somehow expresses an uncanny homesick longing or not? I love Judge Judy in every honorable way, and it seems, two nights ago, she loved me back with a visceral and quantifiable passion.
I wasn’t pursuing her. She invited me in her beautiful home that, for some reason, was set in the middle of an undistinguished university campus I frequently visit in my dreams.
Then we were on the bed.
She wore silk pajamas.
I turned, and was straddling me and controlling my hands and directing my head.
Then she was naked on her back.
I was hovering over her looking into a forest of wild ecstasy that has never been evident on her television show.
I was silent as she giggled like an amateur district attorney during her first day in court.
I looked over her shoulder as she rose to hug me. I squinted as I gazed outside her giant boudoir window and into the disinfecting sunlight bearing down on the filthy city below us.
The room became darker and quieter as the stinging sound of my beeping alarm clock crept between us and into the sheets and woke me up to grit in my eye and bitterness on the tongue.
My wife laughed when I confessed my sex dream with Judge Judy — and I sighed as I wondered how many of us intimately wonder about those beyond us and what effect those lingering yearnings have on the landscape of our immediate dreaming.