The Ruination of Rachel
I had the most intense erotic dream last night — a man I know was standing in back of me, close enough I could hear his heart beating. My whole being ached for him and I could smell the desire on his breath – he brought his hands up to my shoulders and touched me inappropriately – my face lit on fire. A lump formed in my throat and I pushed him away with my mind – pushed and pushed and pushed him away until I could breathe.
Across the room was a woman, oblivious to his advances towards me, but this was her man, and instead of turning to him and saying no, I said to her with all the strength I could muster, “I will not do this.”
Two good things came from this dream – faced with an overwhelming desire, I chose not to hurt someone else to satisfy myself. And given the fact that I offered everyone on the boat the other night a business class ticket to anywhere they wanted to fly if they could find a person who could get my mojo back – I woke with certainty that my mojo hasn’t gone anywhere – I’m still the same hot blooded woman I’ve always been – halle-fuckin-lujah.