Daydream

  

After a while, I grow easily restless. It is as though my mind is a wild horse forced to run around a small, circular pen in perpetuity. Only he can rein me in. Only he can corral my frantic desires. 

My sexuality is insatiable, but mostly in an abstract sense. It is less like a pressure valve that needs release, and more like an amorphous, gaseous haze that emits a putrid stench; crackling and sparkling dangerously. My fantasies become inverted.

At Church a few Sundays ago, I became fixated on the image of Christ on the cross. His bloodied, open wounds and pointy ribs began to make me restless. I was squirming back and forth, readjusting my seat. I tried to consciously redirect my attention to my breath in an effort to ease the tension that was starting to build inside of me. 

I began to wonder what Jesus of Nazareth might have smelled and tasted like. What his calloused hands would have felt like around my waist, tracing my skin. His breath on my neck. The rank, earthy effluvium of his unwashed, throbbing cock.

I smiled, both amused and ashamed of this strange daydream of mine. I am pleasantly reminded Mechthild of Magdeburg, and her consummation with Christ that she so gorgeously describes in The Flowing Light of the Godhead: 

“Lord, you are my lover, my longing, my flowing stream, my sun, and I am your reflection”. 

The bodies of those other than my lover and my own do not usually stimulate or interest me. These emerging fantasies only solidify the obvious; I need to be aggressively and tenderly fucked. And often. Don’t we all? Is this not one of the central issues with male/female relations today? Would so many ordinary men and women be as ornery and hostile as they are today if they decided to stop deluding themselves about their deepest desires?  

All of us are first made real when we emerge from the womb of our Mother; forcibly removed from another world, the Otherworld, into this one - screaming and slippery with amniotic fluid. 

 What a joy and terror it is, to be made real time and time again through the act of sex - a synergistic death and rebirth - with the one who you adore and desire the most.