Bill, a soul connection, who makes my heart skip a beat in the best way possible. But before I dive into that, I owe a bit of a backstory because it’s been a while since I’ve shared anything this personal.
Back during the pandemic, I mentioned a bit about my personal experiences. Still, for the most part, I’ve kept my stories to myself for years. There are many reasons I could give for this, but one stands out the most: I made myself smaller to blend in with my coworkers. I lived two separate lives—one here and one at work—and I managed to keep them separated for four years. Then, in 2020, everything changed when I decided to run for state representative. My two worlds collided in a way I never anticipated.
I wanted to make a difference in my conservative county. Still, then they found my posts about out-of-body experiences and learned I was a sex coach. My opponents used this to start all kinds of false rumors about me. It was tough, really tough. My coworkers turned against me, people tried to get me fired, and I even had folks in big trucks trying to intimidate me off the road. They knew where I lived because of my campaign and would drive up to my house at night, causing a stir.
The harassment went beyond that. I was swatted, which means the police showed up at my door expecting to find a crime in progress. And then there were strangers, showing up with packages that weren’t mine, trying to hand them off. This went on until I moved.
Through all this, I kept making myself smaller, hoping it would cause the harassment to stop. Even after I left my job and moved to a more liberal area, I realized I was still holding myself back. That was until I had this kick-ass dream with Bill. It was like a wake-up call.
So, to Bill, I want to say thank you. You’ve helped me find my path again.
My Dream Visit with Bill
In these dream visits that Bill and I often find ourselves in, we were once again surrounded by a bustling crowd reminding me of a lively community hall. This place was filled with familiar faces—ex-coworkers and students who’ve since moved on from the days they rode my school bus.
There I was, in the midst of this open, spacious area, when I sensed that unmistakable feeling of being watched. Without needing to look, I knew it was Bill. Turning to meet his gaze, we shared a moment of silent acknowledgment. My heart paused, a deep breath later, and I was back to the conversation at hand, though part of me lingered with him.
Minutes passed, or at least it felt that way, and when I glanced back, Bill was nowhere to be seen. I continued mingling, chatting with people from my past, yet Bill’s presence, or absence, hung in the air. I’d catch glimpses of him, always on the periphery, which I found oddly unsettling.
Wandering away from the crowd, I descended a maze of hallways, echoing the intricate depths of Derinkuyu, the ancient underground city. My path led me to my simple home, a single room where life unfolded. The kitchen, the bathroom, the living area with its stone slab and pillows, not to mention the bed, a cozy nest of blankets and pelts where my cats, including Lucky, who passed away last November, lounged comfortably. After a brief pause, I stepped back into the crowd.
Encountering a former student doing well in college made me smile, but soon, I was back in the crowded room. That’s when I saw Bill approaching. The world seemed to pause. His hand found mine, sending a rush of energy through me and opening my heart in a way that left me breathless. Our fingers intertwined, and we set off together.
Bill shared a playful yet poignant note—he couldn’t reach me if my energy screamed, “Do Not Disturb.” I promised to lower that barrier, at least for him, sharing a laugh about keeping it up for Will’s sake. Bill’s reaction to hearing about Will’s brief visit was far from amused.
As we talked and reminisced, frequent interruptions tested his patience. Seeking solitude, we retreated to my place, where he humorously remarked on the multitude of cats sharing our small space. My response was firm yet light-hearted; my home, my rules, especially regarding my animals.
Yet, he stayed. And as we kissed, I marveled at the tenderness, the strange contrast to our astral and telepathic connections. The dream, this long dance of courtship, took a new turn. We kissed, and I told him I hoped he ate his Wheaties because he needed that extra strength. But then, reality—or a semblance of it—interrupted. I was needed outside. I pushed Bill back onto the bed, kissed his hard crotch through his jeans, and told him I’d be right back.
After breaking up a fight, I returned to find Bill asleep among the cats, a serene scene disrupted by my dog’s wake-up call in the real world. Frustration at being pulled away mixed with the hope that our dream might continue right where it left off tonight.