Thursday, August 28, 2008


I love dreams. I have always had a very active and vivid dream life. My dreams are often a window to my inner self. That has certainly been the case this week. Last weekend I, again, came to the conclusion that no matter how much I love my wife, the relationship will not work. I have such a hard time letting go. My wife is a part of me. I have been with her most of my life. I do not think about, fantasize about or really desire other women. My head is constantly full of thoughts, desires and images of my wife. So the thought of ending this relationship is traumatic. I realize that I am not the first person to have gone through this, but it seems no less catastrophic because of that.

Naturally this has invaded my dream life. My wife has always been in a large percentage of my dreams and my dreams are usually erotic in nature. Or at least those are the ones that I remember. This week I have not been sleeping well and having several dreams a night. Interestingly I am not very present in these dreams. In most of them I am an unobserved observer. They have been quite erotic and along a wide spectrum on a continuum of my wife being engaged with other men. This has, for a long time, been my most vivid and exciting fantasy. While it is not unusual for the fantasy to invade my dreams it is of a different nature now. While these dreams still seem to be very erotic they also tend to evoke a good deal of sadness.

One of the first dreams I had this week, she was only partially in view. She was being fucked from behind but the person fucking her was obscured by a wall. She had on a necklace and I could just barely see an orange skirt bunched up around her waist. I could see her bra on the floor. The clothing created a strong sense of sadness because they indicated that she had been out for the kind of evening that she likes. It also made me sad that these were cloths that I did not recognize. She was obviously enjoying what was being done to her. Her eyes were shut and she was biting her bottom lip. She was beautiful. I never saw the man.

Last night she appeared in a very sheer green floral print blouse with a rounded yoke. The double material where the yoke hung over the blouse was not sheer but the yoke did not come down far enough to completely cover her breasts, which were erotically exposed. Obviously this was a very enticing sight and I felt hopeful. She did not interact with me but seemed annoyed by my presence. She went into the bathroom and came out with a very different and even sheerer blouse. This one was white linen. It too had a yoke but it was rectangular. This was not at all sexy, only because under the blouse she had put on one of the tee shirts that she runs in. The linen shirt was so sheer that the small writing on the tee shirt could easily be read. It occurred to me that these shirts had been intended for another man, she had put the tee shirt on because I was there.

One of the results of these restless nights has been that I wake up touching her. Normally I sleep well separated on my side of the bed. This is not the first time that I have come this point in our relationship and the same thing has happened in the past. The reason that we keep getting to this point is because I am unwilling to leave my children and I cannot stop craving her intimacy. So, each time I convince myself that there is hope, despite a complete lack of any evidence to the contrary. I know that I should sleep in another room but the fact is that I go to sleep hoping that I will touch her in my sleep. Unfortunately, despite our estrangement, this contact is nothing more than an annoyance to her. It is, after all, this level of detachment that has always been the problem.

This blog would be much more interesting if I could get her to respond here, but again she is way too detached to be able to do that. Sitting at the computer reading about emotions would be her definition of torture. The only thing that could be more grueling than that would be to have to reply. Several days ago I told her about the old story that I had posted that was basically a fantasy about her. She perfunctorily said, “I will read it tomorrow, when I’m not so tiered.” I had not told her about the story because I expected her to read it. But nonetheless this is exactly in the oh so repetitive pattern of things that drives me nuts. She said that she would do something that she knew full well that she would not, just to try to stop the conversation. I left the blog up on the lap top in bed for her the next couple of nights so that she could read it if she wanted to. Of course she did not. In my opinion this completely lacks integrity. Though I am the most frequent recipient of avoidance, I am not the only one. She does it to her mother all the time and even to her children on occasion, though they don’t let her get away with it. Few other people get close enough to warrant this level of avoidance. I may see if I can get some level of response out of her. In my life I have written hundreds, probably thousands, of pages pleading with her to connect emotionally and erotically to our relationship. The response has been very scarce.