january 5, 2025 || 7:52 pm || cloudy

i awake alone in a corn maze. it's dark out, rainy, and the entire maze smells like wet hay. like the horse stables used to smell when all the feces were frozen. there's this sense of urgency, like i absolutely have to get out of the maze as quickly as possible, or else some unnamed Really Bad Thing will happen.

there are a series of puzzles i have to complete to get out of the maze, alongside navigating the maze itself. the first nine i honestly can't remember now-- i only know that by the time i get to the tenth puzzle, i'm exhausted, and really fucking terrified. i'm running out of time.

anyway, i stumble into the corn-clearing where the puzzle is, and there's just this singular jack-o-lantern sitting in the middle of the field. it is looking right at me. all around me, the rain is pouring down, and the corn is swaying back and forth in a non-existent breeze, leaves rubbing against each other in whispers, like that one scene in the A Wrinkle in Time movie.

i stare at the jack-o-lantern for a moment. it stares back at me. and then, in my head, i know what i must do. i have to fuck the jack-o-lantern.

shakily, i walk forward. the jack-o-lantern's circular little eyes and conveniently circular little mouth stare up at me in fear. but i have to do it, because if i don't, Something Really Bad will happen. i unzip my pants.

pulling down my pants is an ordeal. the button takes too long to pop, and zipper gets stuck, and the tight fabric gets stuck around my thighs. and as i'm trying to shake the last leg free, the unthinkable happens: i get a hamstring cramp. stumbling around, i try to get a hold of myself, but my right foot gets caught behind my left, and i fall into the pumpkin, crushing it. and then i'm sitting there, pants pooled around my legs, dick(?) out, covered in pumpkin mush in the middle of the corn maze. the corn around me bends in, pulling me into the rest of the corn, whispering all the while. my pants get dragged off, then the rest of my clothes, and i'm devoured by the corn.

i awake again, and this time, i can't move. my eyes are stuck open and my mouth won't close either. and then i look down. i am a fucking jack-o-lantern. in the middle of a clearing in a corn maze. footsteps approach from around the corner and i know what will happen before the stranger even approaches.

i look up. please, i try to mouth, to no avail. pants unzip. fabric shakes. and then they stumble. trip forward. land on me.

i am smushed into a pile of pumpkin gore.

okay, okay, i know. what the fuck, right? yeah, that was my reaction too: i woke up in genuine cold sweat, shaking, probably still thinking i was a jack-o-lantern. however, do not disaccount the philisophical depth of this dream. i swear, my subconcious is onto something.

first matter of importance, though perhaps not the most absurd... well, maybe the most absurd. the fact that, in dreamscape, i have a dingdong, a mini me, a little fleshstick, is nothing new. i have a dick in many a dream. this dream, however, is the first time that i am made aware of it, and explicitly forced to use it in a no less sexual manner.

phallic imagery, or whatever frued calls lamps and hot dogs, is not uncommon in dreams, i don't think. of the little knowledge i have regarding psychoanalysis (god, freud was a weird one), i'm fairly sure that the presence of a phallus implies agency and power in the form of masculinity. which, frankly, is quite the opposite to what's going on in my dream as i am literally the one WITHOUT agency, forced to comply to the whims of some higher power. but i guess, as the one forced to do the fucking, at least, in the beginning, i have more agency than the pumpkin. i'm trapped somewhere in between, with enough control to keep up the illusion of having power, but not enough have agency over my body and my actions. inherently, the entire process of going through the maze and choosing to fuck the pumpkin, even if i failed, is a performance of masculinity, where i constantly try to trick the audience, and myself in the process, that i know what i'm doing and am doing it on purpose.

now for the actual trial. three conditions: i don't want to fuck the pumpkin, i get to choose if i want to fuck the pumpkin, and if i don't fuck the pumpkin something really really bad will happen. so really, did i ever have a choice in fucking the pumpkinp? or was it just coercion disguised as a choice? i guess i'm feeling used, like i'm being manipulated into doing something that i really don't want to do. and the burden of guilt that weighs down is left entirely on me, because i was presented with the illusion to refuse in the first place.

i'd also like to make a distinction: i don't think that this dream is about sex-- at least, not really. sure, i'm being forced to commit some act that is sexual in nature, but i don't think that's really what it is. it didn't feel like sex; rather, it was more violent, more dehumanizing. (though, now that i'm writing it out, i suppose that could be some commentary on sex or whatever.) i'm being forced to fuck, but i'm doing it for my survival (car seat headrest reference?)

there was more i wanted to write... but i've lost my train of thought. i'll update this when i remember again.