The Goddess Who Visits My Dreams

I love a good sex dream, but mine are rarely full of lust or explicit sexuality. Since my 20s, I've had a recurring intimate dream of profound love and connection. It's probably no coincidence these dreams began after years of processing the loss of my mother when I was sixteen. In them, I find echoes of the unconditional love I knew with her, mixed with the passionate tenderness of my first lover—as if my unconscious mind is weaving together the threads of the deepest connections I've known.

The dreams often begin with me floating or flying through a dream world. The air is warm and scented with earth and petrichor. Lush trees surround me like a cozy green blanket. Tranquil streams and waterfalls flow over moss-covered rocks, filling the air with mist. As I float through this mystical world, I meet her in a quiet space and everything else fades away.

She’s always familiar to me, like coming home. Her face is different, her features shifting subtly from dream to dream, but her essence never changes. She’s beautiful, with long, dark curls cascading over her shoulders and breasts, and we’re often naked or gently draped in a transparent white cloth as light as our breath. Her warm brown eyes gaze at me softly with understanding as if she’s known me through lifetimes. Her presence feels like something in between my first teenage love and maternal love. A sacred love that sees me and understands without words.

We come face to face, sometimes standing, sometimes sitting in yab-yum, our bodies intertwined not in hunger but in harmony. Sometimes we sit under the canopy of a tree, resting on a soft bed of leaves and dirt. Other times we hold each other in the mist of a waterfall, or float in a tranquil river. Our breath slows and deepens as we breathe together. We communicate deeply without words. The most profound connection happens with our shared breath, stillness, and presence.

There’s attraction and subtle arousal, but not the kind that needs action. No grasping, no climax to chase. Just deep intimacy, like two souls remembering something ancient. A deep love. We spend eternity holding each other in divine union.

And then, as the dream world begins to fade, it's time to let go. There's no possibility to stay. Protesting would be pointless, so we savor the last few moments. Without speaking, she tells me she'll always be there when I seek her in sacred presence. Without words, I tell her I love her, and I'll find her again.

We release each other, with a lingering, warm presence as the dream fades. I awake with a deep breath, my heart warm and full of gratitude, lying in bed, savoring the last drops of the dream like morning dew on flower petals, longing for our next meeting.