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A dream of bodies making music as if they were instruments, a symphony waiting to begin with the slightest touch.


Submitted:Jun 12, 2007    Reads: 796    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   


I had a dream.

In the dream I was dancing, music throbbing in the air, the bass pumping through my body as I moved in concert with the beat. My body was an instrument, the sounds I heard came from within me as I danced, my arms flailing wildly over my head, my torso writhing, shaking my ass, my legs a blur, no partner, just me as the music, spinning and undulating. When I opened my eyes I was in a dimly lit club, people were crowded around me, nameless strangers, faces concealed in shadow, bodies pressed close to mine. Every move I made was somehow anticipated; the movements of the others perfectly timed to avoid any actual contact with me.

I knew that the slightest touch with any one of them would expand my music to a symphony; our bodies converging would bring a whole new layer to the music that was me. I tried to touch them, reached out to link my tune with theirs, desperate for the harmony our joining would create, but the pulsating thud of my music kept them at bay. No matter how fast I moved, they could predict what was next and kept just beyond my reach.

I looked down and realized I was naked, and embarrassment welled within me. When I looked out at the crowd, they were naked as well, nude bodies engorged with longing, gigantic erect penises pressed towards me but never touched, firm nipples on enormous breasts waved before me but never made contact, swollen lips puffed with arousal remained just beyond my grasp. I could smell them; their musk was heavy in the air. So many out there, so close to their release, needing something from me to reach the height of their passion, wanting me, desirous.

They were trying to touch me as well, but were unable to do so, as if the music of my movement kept them at bay at the same time that it attracted them. I panicked; I didn't know what to do. I wanted to stop dancing, but couldn't. I was caught in an endless loop, my song kept me moving but unable to reach any sort of fulfillment, kept them near but never close enough to touch, kept my head spinning as my own excitement rose within me until I felt my body shaking with it, longing for their touch, needing my release as they needed theirs, wanting it so much it hurt. No matter how hard I tried, I could not reach any one of them.

Finally something inside me shattered, the twang of a broken string, the snap of a cracked drum stick, the discordant humming of a ruined reed. I stopped, motionless, paralyzed by whatever had fractured my music. The bodies surged towards me fingers, breasts, tongues, penises, every imaginable part of a human body reaching for me and just as they were about to touch me, they were gone.

I was alone.

I spun in a circle, searching, willing them to return. I tried to dance, but the music wouldn't come. Something inside had ceased to function. The concerto wouldn't play, my opus would never be. I stopped trying, my body sagged, collapsed on the floor. Tears came unbidden, my shoulders wracked with silent sobs.

I only wanted to dance.

I only wanted to feel.

I only wanted to love.

I only wanted to be

loved in return.





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