Friday, July 3, 2009

What's your fantasy?

Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living.
~Dr. Seuss

Fantasies. Yeah. We all have them. Today, mine is being on a secluded beach somewhere, in a hammock. It's about 85 and breezy, with not a drop of humidity. I'm debating on whether or not I'm too lazy to walk over the hot sand for a swim, but I'm enjoying how it feels to drift in between dozing and that lazy half-awake feeling that washes over me. I smell like coconut suntan lotion. There is a little drink in a hollowed out pineapple next to me, and I might take a drink, or I might just lick the salt off my lips from the sea air. And up the beach a bit, I see a tall, dark-haired man walking toward me, ankle deep in the water that is lapping at the shore line.

So it begins. The fantasy, that is. We all know our realities of writing checks, folding laundry, sitting in rush-hour traffic. And those things are fine…that's how we survive our day-to-day stuff. But we need fantasy; we crave it. So maybe I'll retreat into my own personal fantasies. Or maybe I'll read erotica.

When I read erotica, I like to imagine someone completely new. I very rarely ever imagine a celebrity or someone I might know because I like the fantasy of it. So in my mind, I can make up the mysterious stranger in my daydream or imagine the hot doctor or bartender I read about in an erotic story. And even more than imaging who it is, I like imagining the sensations: the way my breath catches in my chest when the dark-haired stranger finally approaches my hammock, the way the sun beats down on me, the way his skin would feel under my fingertips as I trace the arch of his lower back.

When I read erotica, I also like that I get to visit someone else's fantasy. Do things I wouldn’t imagine doing, meet people I wouldn’t imagine meeting, go places I wouldn't imagine going. I relish in the author's creativity and enjoy their sensual nature. Maybe it will spark a few fantasies of my own.

Tomorrow, I will likely find something delicious to read. But for now, I'm going to get back to my real life, my work…and try very hard not to think of the way the swim trunks hang on my dark-haired fantasy man's hips or the first thing he says as he approaches my hammock. I said try. I am human, after all…

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1 comment:

Angela Lee said...

I love dark-haired fantasy men. Real ones, too... Ah, but the imagery in this says it all. Thanks for sharing that!