By
K.D. Grace (Guest Blogger)
Thanks
so much for having me over, Lisabet. It’s always such a pleasure to
be your guest. Today I want to talk about dreams -- one of my
favorite sources of inspiration, which also happen to be one of my
favorite writing constructs. More than a few of my stories have had
their roots in my dreams. Many of my novels have dream sequences,
which are fantastic for furthering the plot, upping the tension, or
creating a little chaos.
Dreams
have been a driving force in story and magic since our ancestors told
tales around the campfire. The connection between what goes on in our
dreams and our unconscious is so startling that it’s no wonder
mythology and religion are full of stories in which dreams are the
way for the divine to speak to mortals. When we dream, it feels like
we’ve fallen asleep in one dimension and awakened in another where
different rules apply every night – every dream in fact – and
where, struggle though we might, we are most definitely not in
control.
People
have always believed that there’s something magical about dreams,
that in our sleep, we can see the future, be warned of coming
catastrophe, see the face of a lover, even see our own doom. These
days there’s not a lot that can’t be explained by science and
technology. Magic is the realm of fantasy novels and super heroes,
but dreams, well there’s still something almost magical about them.
We can tell when someone is dreaming; we understand the physiological
process, we can understand in part why we dream certain things. But
even knowing what we do about the anatomy of sleep and dreams, a
nightmare is still terrifying, a disturbing dream still stays with us
for ages after it happens, and a sexy dream, well who doesn’t wish
we had a lot more of those?
One
of my very favorite classes in Uni was a psychology class that
involved keeping a dream journal. All we had to do was write down
what we’d dreamed every night. I was surprised to find that, in the
beginning, I had trouble remembering much more than an image here and
there, but then I’d never thought much about my dreams before that
class. My teacher suggested I keep a spiral notebook and a pencil on
my bedside table and that I set my alarm at two-hour intervals. Each
time the alarm went off, I was to jot down just a few key words that
would kick-start my memory in the morning, then go back to sleep. At
first it was mostly mundane bits and pieces that I remembered, but it
didn’t take long until I was remembering multiple dreams and
detailed sequences.
I
was so impressed with the results that I kept a dream journal for a
long time after the class came to an end. I only stopped because it
was beginning to take more and more time as I remembered more and
more details. Later, when I worked with a Jungian analyst for a
couple of years, dreams once again took center stage in exploring my
inner workings. The thing about dreams is that every image, every
action, can either symbolize something that could be important for
the dreamer or, as Freud observed, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
Long
after I stopped keeping a dream journal, I still wrote down powerful
dreams, dreams that disturb me, or dreams that left me feeling like
maybe I’d touched something deeper in myself. I recorded them and
then I analyzed them and explored what they meant to me, what the
Self was trying to communicate. I almost always found my efforts
rewarding and enlightening.
While
there
are
dreams
we’d
like
to
linger
in
a
little
longer,
there
are
also
dreams
we
can’t
wake
up
from
fast
enough.
I
wrote
The
Psychology
of
Dreams
101
because
I
wanted
to
explore
what
might
happen
when
a
dream
journal
leads
to
that
mix
of
sexy
dreams
and
disturbing
nightmares.
What
happens
when
a
dream
that
starts
out
too
hot
to
handle
turns
scary?
What
happens
when
one
is
no
longer
sure
what’s
dream
and
what’s
reality?
Worst
of
all,
what
happens
when
the
dreamer
can’t
escape
the
dream?
The
Psychology
of
Dreams
was
a
chance
for
me
to
play
around
with
the
idea
of
the
dream
as
a
driving
force
in
story.
While
The
Psychology
of
Dreams
is
an
erotic
novella,
it’s
also
a
chance
for
me
to
play
with
the
juxtaposition
of
the
erotic
and
the
horrific,
and
find
a
way
back
from
the
dark
and
disturbing
to
a
HFN.
Here’s
a dreamy little taster.
Blurb
What if there was
punishment when you didn’t dream the right dreams? That’s the
dilemma Leah Kent, and her professor, Al Foster must face—dream
right, or take the punishment. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a
wander into the sexy and dark unconscious as Leah takes a Psychology
of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required
dream journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys. But not
all dreams are pleasant ones, and some have far-reaching
repercussions in the waking world.
Buy Links for The
Psychology of Dreams 101:
“It’s My Dream!
The Psychology of Dreams 101 Excerpt
“Now
then, let’s see if we can’t ease the pain in you lovely little
bottom before we get on with the spanking, ” Dr. Clyde said before
Leah could ask what he meant by his remark about them never getting
out of the dream. He rummaged and rattled through the surprising
abundance of the desk drawers until he came up with a tube of
something she couldn’t see in her bent-over position, but as he
unscrewed the lid, she immediately smelled peaches. There was the
sound of something squirting, and then she felt the doctor’s large
palm spreading cool lotion against her burning butt. She sighed and
clenched at the pleasure of it. “There now. That feels better,
doesn’t it hon? Just what the doctor ordered. We don’t want that
lovely ass of yours too wounded just yet. Your punishment has hardly
begun, after all.”
“Peach?
Seriously?” Al said, coming closer to observe and sniffing as he
did so.
“Yup!
And it’s edible too,” Dr. Clyde said. “Taste. Not like that,
Dear God, Al, put the tube down, and use your imagination. You’re
in a dream for fuck sake! And you,” he turned his attention back to
Leah, “you lie still. You’re being punished. You don’t get to
see what’s happening. You have to trust the dream, trust that what
happens next is all a part of the experience.”
“Enough
of the psycho-babble, already, Derrick. We get it,” Al protested.
There was a shuffling of male bodies behind her, and Leah felt a
different set of hands, clearly Al’s hands. They were not quite as
large as Dr. Clyde’s, but they were slightly calloused. She
wondered how someone who taught courses on dream psychology got
calloused hands. He gently cupped her hips, careful not to touch her
wounded left ass-cheek. Then she felt the humid heat of his breath
just before his warm wet tongue pressed against the place where her
thigh met her left buttock.
“Oh
God!” she managed, as the unexpected, but delightful, sinuous lap
of his tongue up the rounded contour of her ass cheek moved inward,
closer to the cleft that she knew would taste nothing at all like
peaches. Meanwhile the doctor droned on that though at one point in
our evolution, we liked the scents and odors of the body, at present
that was less the case, and scented and flavored lubricants and
lotions for sex often made the partners more comfortable with their
personal smells.
“I
like her smell,” came Al’s muffled reply. “It’s her I want to
taste, not fucking peaches.”
“Wait
a minute, you can smell me? I mean I’m sure you can smell me now,
but … before?”
“I
ha’ a ‘en’ative nothe,” came the slurped reply against her
ass, and she decided right then and there that she was just fine with
that.
“I
fail to see how eating her out is going to help ease the pain at
all,” Dr. Clyde observed as Al licked and slurped and nibbled ever
closer to the ache at the center that had nothing to do with the
spanking.
“It’s
my dream.” Leah protested, wriggling and squirming to open her legs
against the restraint of the panties around her knees. “If I want
him to do … that, then surely he should do that.”
“It’s
hardly a punishment though, is it?” the doctor said, stepping back
and folding his arms across his chest observing Al’s efforts from
the edge of Leah’s peripheral vision.
“Who
the fuck ca -- res?” she managed with a little gasp as Al fingered
her open to make room for his very talented tongue.
She
was just getting into it, just beginning to think that maybe Al’s
tongue was prehensile when she heard a grunt and opened her eyes to
discover the good doctor had moved closer, and he was now observing
with his trousers open, his gaze locked on what Al was doing to her
bottom and his fist locked around his heavy erection, which pointed
accusingly at her ass as he shifted his hips to free his balls. Not
that she wanted him to stop or anything, but she was just about to
comment that she failed to see what his cock stroking had to do with
her punishment when the sudden absence of a warm tongue from her
nether region and the sound of a zipper opening told her that, in
solidarity with his fellow male, Al had just freed Simba. She pressed
her legs tightly together and wriggled just enough for the binding
panties to drop to the floor. Then she kicked them aside and she was
free too, opening her thighs anticipating more than Al’s tongue
when the damn doctor called a halt to all activities.
“Now
what?” Both she and Al growled at the same time.
“You’re
not supposed to fuck her, Al. You’re supposed to spank her, punish
her, make her repentant.”
“Oh
I am,” she managed breathlessly. “I’m very repentant. I’ll
never write down fake dreams again.”
Dr.
Clyde ignored her. “Look, in the dreams, you’re both being
punished. No one gets satisfaction until the punishment is complete.”
“Seriously?”
Leah said, and Al cursed profusely. Under different circumstance to
hear such foul language from the mouth of her mild-mannered
instructor would have shocked her, but at the moment, she was
inclined to agree with him completely.
“Well,
I suppose I could have some satisfaction,” the doctor added
with a little shrug of his broad shoulders, and the movement made his
dick look like it shrugged too in its anxious agreement. “After all
it’s not my dream and I’m not being punished.” Cock in hand, he
insinuated himself between Al and Leah and with a quiver of
anticipation, Leah wriggled against the table as he fingered her
open.
“Wait
a minute,” Al said. “This is Leah’s dream. What if she doesn’t
want you to fuck her? What if she just wants to get on with it?”
“No,
no! That’s all right. I’m good with it. I’m fine.” Leah just
wanted someone to fuck her and soon! Since it was her dream,
why not the good doctor? He was certainly ready.
“That
doesn’t mean you can’t put your cock in her mouth if you want,”
Dr. Clyde said to Al. “I suppose that could be considered
punishment. It could certainly be considered humiliation in most BDSM
circles, if done under the right circumstances, or so I’m told,”
he added quickly.
“What
if I put my cock up your ass instead,” Al said, shocking both Leah
and Dr. Clyde as he yanked at the waistband of the man’s expensive
trousers.
Before
the doctor could protest, Leah added her own bit of profanity to the
blue language hanging in the air. “It’s my dream, damn it! So
just put your fucking cock in his fucking hole already! I don’t see
how that can affect my punishment. And when you do, I want to see, so
Doc, if you’ll just hand me the mirror.”
“Wait
a minute, Al’s the Dom, not you.”
“Shut
up, Doc!” both she and Al said at once.
“It’s
my dream,” Leah repeated, “Besides,” she added quickly, “I’ve
never seen a man fuck a man before.”
“Come
to think of it, neither have I,” Dr. Clyde said. “Do you think
you can angle the mirror so I can see too.”
About K D
Grace/Grace Marshall
Voted
ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes,
K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all
about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than
she is, otherwise, what would she write about?
When
she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not
gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s
serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast
across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For
her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears
out a pair of walking boots. She loves mythology. She enjoys spending
time in the gym – right now she’s having a mad affair with a pair
of kettle bells. She loves to read, watch birds and do anything that
gets her outdoors.
KD
has erotica published with Totally Bound, SourceBooks, Xcite Books,
Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace,
Sweetmeats Press and others.
K
D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The
Initiation of Ms Holly,
Fulfilling
the Contract,
To
Rome with Lust,
and The
Pet Shop.
Her paranormal erotic novel, Body
Temperature and Rising,
the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as
honorable mention on Violet
Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011.
Books two and three, Riding
the Ether,
and Elemental
Fire,
are now also available.
Find
K D Here:
