The first sexual dream I ever had occurred when I was in my early teens, around the time I lost my virginity (although I cannot recall if it was before or after, and in truth, it does not matter). Much of it has faded, and yet three things remain: the person, the location, the weather.
My lover was male – his face is forgotten, although I recall his body well. We were together in an apartment building high above a city, in a large one-room studio that had polished wood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. There was no furniture, no rugs, no wall hangings. Just us, up against the wall, the city lights bright and night sky dark, and shadows crossing the floor and striping across us as we came together.
My second dream, a few years later, was an altogether sweeter experience. A boy about my age, a tree-house, and delightful explorations and laughter. He was the prettiest man I’d ever seen, and his face stayed with me for many years.”