Feed The Pigs

a dream by
Astor W. Heinemann

They say dreams only last a fraction of our sleep time, a few seconds or minutes at most. Imagine what it would be like if we could dream for the whole length of our time with the sandman, it would appear to last longer than our awake time, overtaking our lives and becoming reality trading places with our conscious time.

Last night I had a dream. I don't have any idea how long it lasted in real life time, but it felt about an hour. I was standing upon a great vast field of dry tall yellow grass. The wind was blowing to my left and the grass hairs swayed in that direction, toward the sun as if chasing it. There was nothing else around. The wind was strong. I could feel the warmth of the sun against the left side of my face while the other side felt cold. There was a distinct separation from the washed out white glow coming from my left to the deep dark blue skies to my right. I am convinced that if you could see my face at that moment you would have noticed my eyes, the left pupil would have been a small dot and the right a huge black circle as they individually adjusted to the available light on each side. It's almost as if I was in between worlds.

I stood there for a while, warm and cold at the same time, until a steady pulse of muted thuds called my attention. Initially I thought it might have been the wind playing tricks against my ear drums, but firmly the thumping got stronger. I looked at the ground and I could see some of the dirt particles jump around to the rhythm of the thuds all around my shoes. It grew from a low pitched vibration to an audible stomp and swoosh against the grass.

Equal parts fright and curiosity filled my soul as I turned around and saw two giant legs and shoes approaching me, I looked up and there was a huge figure standing before me. It was myself. A mammoth me stopped a couple dozen feet away looking down at a little me. I didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say, all that was left was to stand there looking up in disbelief with my jaw dropped almost supported by my chest.

The gigantic me smiled for a second but before I could return the gesture his hands started moving towards his crotch and he proceeded to unzip his pants. I was frozen. In a second he had whipped out his penis and began to urinate on me, only it wasn't the waterfall like drowning flow I was expecting, but rather a thin and limp flow of liquid went directly into my mouth. Initially I shut my eyes and mouth and violently shook my head in despair, but to my surprise the flavor was pleasant. I can only describe the taste as apple juice with a hint of citrus. By the looks of it alone you could not tell if it was one thing or the other as they both look just about the same. Even a little foaming on the ground as it spilled over. I drank it, couldn't stop drinking, and I fell to my knees with my face up for a while, then I let my head drop and the apple urine washed my hair and flowed through my back inside my shirt. It was refreshing, cool, not warm as would be expected. There it was, big me pissing into and unto little me, nursing me with his citric apple piss and I liked it.

After a long time the flow started diminishing and droplets started falling before it stopped altogether. I looked up and saw big me zipping up, rub his hands clean on his pants and then he made a fist and stuck out the index finger on his right hand. He bent down and tapped the top of my head with paternal affirmation as if saying "you did alright kid, you did alright." He turned around and walked away but by the time his stomps were no longer audible I was dry, my clothes were dry, the ground was dry and the sun had gone down out of sight. There was no moon, no stars up in the sky.

Ende.