Recurring Mike Dream

For years and years I have dreamt of my first "boyfriend", Michael Mattson whom I met in the 8th grade at Del Mar School and continued to make out with him for a year until the first day of High School when the Conquistador in me said, "wow, look at all these nice fish in this exciting pond!" I have come to realize how deeply affected I have been this early relationship. I explored my first steps into sexuality with him, and learned my worth very much imprisoned in my willingness to make out, or not. The first time he broke up with me it was because I wouldn't kiss him in public. I remember one conversation with this very introverted, strong, silent type man boy. He was so silent, I would often ask him, 'what's wrong?". I mean, we would just sit together never saying a word; we were 13 with absolutely nothing to say just this huge awkward silence between us. One night he snapped at me, "why did anything have to be wrong?" Forty odd years later, I see he had a point.

But there was something deeply missing in this guy. To say he was independent (he had complete freedom to be anywhere, any time he wanted to be) doesn't cover the sense of responsibility he had toward his brother. I suspect Mike's childhood ended shortly before I met him. He never spoke about his home or his parents. I intuited that his mother was single and working to support her kids but that left him to parent his brother, Stacy, a year or two younger and with a girl name like Stacy, Mike had a very protective aura about him; he was tough enough that if you teased Stacy, you were going to have to face Mike and given his mature physical body, that may have stopped you.

In 8th grade I was spending the night occasionally with this boy; the first time at a beach cottage that our friend Betty's parents took care of in the off-season. Betty sneaked the key and a bunch of us partied in some body's beach house in the middle of winter. God, it was cold! All that Mike wanted to do was make-out so that is what we did. I learned how to kiss Michael Mattson, let me tell you. But jeez, I'd get so bored after a while. I guess I wasn't as into it as he was. Curious, yes. Turned on? No. The second time was the following summer, months of kissing behind us. ( We told our mothers we were staying at Karen's house but we didn't tell them Karen's mom was out of town; Karen told her Aunt she was spending the night with me. ) Here was a group of three adolescent "couple", Karen, Sin, Carrie, Bobby, Connie, Mike, pairing off in the bedrooms to learn a few new things.

This is the night I heard Roberta Flack's recording of "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face". Her voice woke up my heart chakra and I tumbled irreversibly down the rabbit hole of romantic love. And this is the next morning I wake up to find his finger in my bone-dry vagina. Of course at the time, I didn't know what to think and it took years for me to own my sense rage at this, my second violation. I guess I could be grateful that he woke up my second chakra the way Roberta Flack opened my heart, but a gentleman would have asked first.

So, for years, I've been dreaming of Mike and what recurs is intense visceral physiological longing, sometimes in my vagina, but more recently, in my heart. I awoke with an aching heart the other morning, having touched him, finally, in the dreamtime, only to have him slip away again. If I researched my journals, I imagine I've dreamt Mike hundreds of times since 1972, always searching and seeking to physically connect.

In tonight's dream he and Bobby are walking toward me. When we meet, Mike says he's going surfing but the climb down the cliff to the waves is a dangerous endeavor. In typical Mike fashion, he thinks nothing of it and take a path away from us, on a road to the west, heading for the cliff with the waves far below. We've made a plan to meet later at his sister's huge, rambling wind-weathered house which is full of Mike's family. Brother's keep showing up, but not Mike. Finally, he does and we sit on the floor in front of the sofa. I put my hand on this leg, he turns on the t.v., to watch porn! (I was soooo disappointed by this turn of events!)

He tells me in the dream that we wants to marry but must go work for three months before returning. He seems unsure if I'll wait for him and I tell him that yes, of course I will. And so again, the longing comes in. But I am heartened on this journey to my animus...I am encouraged that I am moving closer to integration with this avatar of mine, Mike, who I realize now, is a protector for me but also my strong, male, warrior spirit who easily makes the choice about which cliffs to scale down, rather than jump from. He is also the bold and arrogant risk taker, who doesn't feel the need to ask permission.

This wouldn't be a true Santa Cruz dream if I didn't dream the huge nightmarish wave bearing down on me, but this time it was only one and though it was big, I knew it wouldn't catch me. Anyway, I was safely behind glass, watching it roll in and exclaiming, "oh, that's exactly the kind of wave I have nightmares about".

Namaste`
Connie