Later, on December the 29th, I had yet another dream where at some point, he was sitting on the front porch (actually on the stairs of the porch) of a house in which I had spent the night and as I was finishing a conversation with a lady who was a neighbor lady of the lady owner of the house, he gently said in French "Allez, on rentre à la maison, Emi ?" a half question half clear desire / proposition to go back home. He was blond with a beard, very casually dressed ; t shirt, 3/4 pants of a light color and sandals. He said that with so much love and caring in this voice and so softly ! the memory of it makes me want to go with him ! where ever home could be.
Continuing, like a logical follow up of the story (first asking my hand, then asking me to go home with him) comes the actual home dream. January 2nd 2010 I dreamed I finally went to a house but I believe it was his parent's house - though I cannot for sure associate the other man with him, and yet, it's highly possible it could have been his father. The small and think path in the snow - large enough only for one person a time - led to 3 houses piled up one on top of each other and I thought to back off and go back to the prairie, the snow field but when I turned back, he was there right behind me and gently said, again in French "Non, continue. Tu y est presque." (No, continue, you are almost there.) And yet again with that incredible caring, loving soft and convincing tone of voice and such a loving caring look in his eyes, it gave me courage to go forward. I climbed the snow to reach the door and opened it. Inside was the backyard of a huge house and I noticed that in our yard were growing huge healthy tall deep vivid orange lilies. My favorite flowers ! And the blond man - still with this long hair and his beard - smiling at me half proud half that unchanging loving caring smile and expression on his face, and the hunter man behind me explaining something or saying something - but I was fascinated about how outside it was snow and here inside it was summer.
Something funny - if I go way back in time.
When I was around 8-9 I was introduced, by the mother of my neighbor friend, to a young blond guy a few years older than me - by 3-4 years - whom would be my sidekick in my dreams to help me fight the evil. We most often had the mission to stop Lestat (who was sleeping under the ice of a skate rink in Outremont - which fact I discovered years later when I went to high school Outremont and we got our Winter Activity day held at that skate rink and it just slapped in the faec : that was the rink of which i spent years dreaming !!) - so, our mission was to stop Lestat de Lioncourt (Anne Rice's vampire character) from getting to the two red headed twins and bite them. (Funny how years later, even more than the skate rink discovery), as I was reading the Lestat books - I found out that in fact, Lestat was sleeping under ice to avoid being detected by fellow vampires (found in the Akasha book - story) and the mythology of the two red headed twingirls (also in the saga by Anne Rice) and how eventually Lestat meets them and how everything gets mixed up and makes sense.
1992-4 : I dream of the Blond Kid being introduced to me and we have to stop Lestat in that skate rink. He had long blond hair, going down to the base of his neck, straight, darker blond, and was wearing glasses.
1997-8 : I have my first Winter Activity day at that famous Outremont Skate rink. (I did start high school in August 1996 but I had the accident with the car on October 2nd and I only came back to School in February with a cast) First shock : the rink was the one i spent years dreaming of.
~ 1999-2000 : I was reading further in the Vampire Saga by Anne Rice and found out the Twins story, the Akasha one, how Lestat was sleeping underneath the ice to avoid being detected by other vampires. Freak awareness again - i had dreamed of that when I was a kid.
He came back when I was 14 - but I didn't quite recognized him - he presented himself as being Henri - was wearing a white and blue large stripped shirt and jeans (salopettes) and kissed me on the lips - rather .... lusciously and with passion.
Years later, the Blond Man came back in various other dreams. I'll always remember the most epic ones. He was my master in one and I remember how kissing him was a total game of impressing the other and how even if I thought I had won the argument, he did in fact impressed me way more and wan the game. He had shorter hair in that dream but still wearing the glasses and as I was looking up to him (he was standing, his hands on the polished armrest part of the balcony, on like an interior second floor.) and his face seemed so familiar it was hurting me not to know his name. But it was his eyes - his way of looking at me - that loving glow, that caring smile. He was wearing an old styled interior casual house robe. I was having a fight with his ... he was clearly the Master of the place and mine too. The tall dark haired younger man was his protégé and apprentice but he was not handling me ! I refused to kiss him and obey him, we were fighting over that down on the ground level - I was saying to the apprentice that he had nothing new he could teach me and I was done with him. I knew the art of love and kissing and pleasing a man so he could start looking for a new girl to train and spend his time with. My Master having heard our loud discussion, asked me up to his quarters, and that's when i saw his face, bent over, hands on the balcony, that smirk on his lips and yet the unquestionable love and care in his eyes ! even behind the glasses.
So I walked up the stairs, sat down on the couch that was just before the balcony's protective bars - a long deep purple rich dark (almost black) lacquered sofa with a few decorative pillows - and as he sat down with me ( I remember he was wearing a black robe with red enhancements on the borders) I bent over to kiss him and he did gave in the first moments. I was completely leading him, pulling him to give me more, stopping him when I felt like slowing down the kisses and when I thought I would finalize it all and prove myself, he kissed me in such a way that I was conquered. He pulled me right back into as I was ready to pull back - and I stood there, now being kissed and lead by him. (and he kisses divinely !! )
Then the dreams with him became sparse with time but he always was there and he was the first one to truly take me in a dream. Even if I had sex dreams in my teenage years, I usually was the man having sex with girls, or having sex with girls as a girl, but no man penetrated me. The only time that it nearly happened, I just walked away from the man (the dream was in the early 2000's) and I changed the dream.
The first real time was with him. It's noted somewhere in my livejournal - it was the spy dream. I knew he was inside of me and yet that was not the important factor. The important part was that we were having fun, our fingers crossed and sharing good memories of jokes, he was making me laugh.
And then, he reappeared clearly in a dream when I was about to consummate my honeymoon with another man (whom in the dream I didn't love and was not willingly in there with him). April the 7th 2007 I was in Venice - he was there and even though we had a somewhat of a misunderstanding at some time in the dream - everything came back to old habits. (And now that I analyse it - the black haired man that I said I have never seen before - I had completely forgotten him ! but he was there with him in that kiss on the balcony dream, he was the apprentice !)
Near the end, seeing that he still had the scalpel in his hand, I took his hand, shaping his fist around the scalpel’s handle, bending his fingers tightly around it, and holding half his wrist, half his fist with the scalpel’s sharp edge pointing at my chest, I just hold it like that, the edge of the scalpel near my skin – with the other hand palpating my chest bones and finding two rib bones (oh and believe me, it’s unreal in a dream to actually feel the strength of a bone under your skin and the squishy non resistant part in between the 2 said bones !!) so I was there, feeling my ribs and nearly shouted at him :
“[ Well then ] Kill me !! Just here ! Between the two rib bones ! Wait, you are not holding this properly … ( and I actually turned the scalpel horizontally so that the blade would have an easier penetrating capacity ! – like who the hell does calculate such a thing in real life when stabbing ? a regular killer just stabs with the knife vertically pointed – cutting the ribs and who the hell actually cares about hitting the heart without hitting the resistance of bones ?? ) … like that you can access the heart easily ! (And in my head, I was imagining the blade going through the skin, the muscle, between the two ribs and hitting just the first third of the heart – penetrating in the right atrium.
He hesitated and forcefully retrieved his hand. Next thing I was conscious about was the fact that I had my arms around his neck and I was kissing him. I had my head turned on his right cheek side – I could appreciate the cool moist of his mouth (no he was not warm like humans are usually mid-warm, nor did he tasted salty like Sam used to always taste salty when I kissed him, like kissing the ocean) and he felt so refreshing, like cool water made into a human mouth or a kiss. I remember perfectly the moment my lips touched his – the black haired guy still not even a feet away from the blond one ! – and how he responded to me, at first unsure and then just appreciating it for what it was. We exchanged a few kisses on this right side before I switched my head to his left side, still passionately kissing him yet our tongues were not mixed up yet because I started to roll my tongue around his (and I even remember it was from his left side to his ride – counter-clockwise !! omg the detail !! from 3 up to 12 and down to 9 and down to 6 and back up to 3 for a complete turn – and not only once !) and feeling it exciting me, feeling it so normal and natural and cool ! (In real life, anything in my mouth that is not food and I throw up or have severe nausea and need to breath ! that made kissing guys highly romantic !) With him, I only was conscious of good he felt, the starting pleasure he was giving me – or the fact that I was kissing him – and it felt just plain awesome ! Near the end, I even remember I was twirling my right hand’s fingers around his very short hair in the back of his neck and I was fascinated by his really freaking close shave ! ( Like was he using Mac Fusion 5 or what ? because his skin was so smooth and clean of any trace of hair !)
I remember dreams, where he was wearing a pale turquoise or pale sky blue very light silk 18th century French costume and was inviting me to dance with him - there was a ball at a huge house, near a forest, there was a little temple of love near too (like Marie-Antoinette's Trianon). To this day I can remember how his clothes looked, the white fine embroideries, the soft pale blue like the palest sky blues - paler than his eyes, the ppl at the ball made comments how our clothes matched since I was wearing his colors ! I Had the same soft pale blue silk fabric for my dress and the same type of white very worked embroideries at the sleeves of my dress, and on the chest area and on the skirt part, to match his costume perfectly. He was giving me his hand to lead me to the dance floor and we danced together, we were very close and intimate - almost as cousins, because I had this impression that his mother or aunt was in my family. I remember how dashing he looked and how I admired him and how happy I was to able to dance in his arms.
In that dream there was something about us being alone in that little temple of love at some moment and the family looking for us to make sure we were not putting ourselves int trouble. We were of a good family and we couldn't afford to create trouble or rumors. ( Does this dream explain why when I first hears the song Temple of Love by the Sisters of mercy I instantly identified myself to the lyrics ? to the sadness of knowing that love would leave me in the morning... )
In another dream, he was again a sort of a spy, we were in a lift going down and I remember looking him straight in the eyes and knowing him - so painful to know his face, his smile, his eyes and yet not knowing his name !