*the content on this site is constantly altered or adjusted to better reflect my experience*

Your House Is My House

You were oblivious, weren't you? As far as my soul and consciousness were concerned, you had to be in on it all. At least to some degree. My brain couldn't compute you were seeing me for the first time in your life.

How could I compute such a thing, when you pretty much altered the trajectory of my life, before I even met you? How wild is that? I won't forget that it was because of you that I came to discover aspects of my sexuality. It was because of the man from this dream I had as a teenager. Who would have dared to imagine I was going to meet you, and experience those exact circumstances? I remember this feeling I had, after I had that dream. If felt you were the man I never knew I wanted. Everything you seemed to be, was such a perfect fit for every desire I ever had. So yeah, I may have acted too close for comfort, because I couldn't compute.

I remember this dream I had some time after we met. I felt and knew I was in your house. It was a very big house. It was a beautiful house, and somehow I had this inner knowing that your house is my house. I also knew, you knew your house is my house. For a little while, I thought I was delusional you knew your house was my house, but a man who was wandering around, and seemed to be a friend of yours confirmed you knew I was there, that I was free to roam there, and that you agreed your house is my house.

I had this vague feeling you didn't like I was in your house, but there was nothing you could do about it either.

You were in a different part of the house, and I started roaming around. Maybe I went looking for you, or maybe I was just walking around the house.

I found you in a large room, like a classroom of sorts with several massage tables facing a blackboard. I think you were receiving a massage. I was writing on the blackboard. It felt like I was teaching something, but I didn't really care if anyone was listening, or learning for that matter. I was just sharing the material I had.

I remember you feeling angry. You didn't like I was there. It felt like 'fine, if I had to be in your house, couldn't I, at the very least, not be in the same room as you?'. The audacity. You didn't throw me out, but chose to leave the room. You couldn't throw me out. That was the thing. You couldn't throw me out, because your house is my house.