I glide through a bright path by the sea. I feel a thin, satin gown graze my skin. Yet, I have these dark stiletto heels down on my feet. Is it even this world, I wonder. I have jewellery on — strange ones. But I feel rich. I feel important. My skin glows under the bright moon.
Yet, I am wary. It’s quiet all around but I am watchful. I feel like a treasure having to save myself from bounty hunters. My feet move fast, running through the unwieldy sand hoping not to stumble and fall. That’s when I hear the wolves. I hear rapid footsteps and turn momentarily. The image is nightmarish. It’s a man sitting on a large wild wolf. The man’s face is in darkness but the wolf’s eyes glow red with fury.
Then its claws close around me.
The dream shifts to a large room in a palace but I am tied to the bed. The man enters the room and begins to dominate me. Little whip play their painful game on my alabaster skin, leaving red rashes on them. I don’t protest. He continues to play with me, not too hurtful and yet keeping the suspense of the oncoming fear and pleasure. I remember enjoying it, even mouthing encouragement.
It’s a dream that confuses me. I am usually wet when I wake up but also feel violated. I am not above some domination (often I am the one doing it) but nothing so graphic as the dream. Is this something I want?
I would never have an encounter like the dream in real life. Is the wolf representative for something metaphorically? Who knows where my conscious lies.