It started at some kind of convention/festival thing with my mother dragging me off to a side room to chew me out for not being polite enough. But then I noticed what looked like a paper-mache sculpture in the floor. It was human-shaped, done up in a variety of colors (mostly purple), and mostly submerged in water that was full of more paper scraps. I got the idea that maybe it was a real person under a spell, and I quickly forgot all about my mother.
I went around a corner and found more human sculptures, including one slumped against a wall with its leg sticking up in a very inviting position. I wondered what would happen if I touched it. So I clasped my hand loosely around the sculpture's ankle and slid slowly down, enjoying the perfect lines of the calf.
The "sculpture" reacted.
I wasn't completely sure of its gender because although its basic shape was male, its calf had a feminine curve. But let's go with male. He leaned toward me until our faces touched and ground his leg up between mine until I had a lovely little orgasm.
At that point I realized I was dreaming and, as I'm prone to do, started brainstorming EMC story ideas based on what I'd just experienced. I imagined a traveling carnival something like the one from Something Wicked This Way Comes, that would lure people in with sex and then transform them into mindless paper-mache sex dolls who'd lure more people in. But of course, the carnival couldn't just abduct people right and left; that would arouse suspicions. No, they'd have to use their toys for a little while and then return them to their homes with post-hypnotic suggestions. Then, when the carnival came back to the area the next year, their victims would be activated, take a few vacation days from work, and travel to a nearby town to serve as sex sculptures. No one would recognize them there, no one would be the wiser, and eventually the whole area would fall under the carnival's spell.
Of course, me being me, I then imagined what it would feel like to be one of those mindless sex sculptures: sitting still and mute as the paper-mache was slathered across my face, blocking my sight, blocking my features, erasing my identity. Making me an it.
Then it was on to one of those notorious school dreams where you find yourself in a classroom but you don't have any books and you don't have any idea what's going on. Normally this dream produces a lot of anxiety for me, but this time the teacher was giving a vocabulary lesson, and I'm confident enough of my own vocabulary that I didn't feel worried about keeping up. So instead I focused on my classmates. At the table in front of me was a group of Japanese kids joking about things no one else understood. For some reason they found the phrase "negative red" to be really, really funny. Behind me was a trio of boys dressed like Walter from The Big Lebowski. Now I realized it was dress-up day at school and I should have worn a costume myself, which made me more embarrassed than not having a vocabulary book. But then a student tagged me in some sort of game and I tagged a Japanese boy...and my alarm went off.
I realize the most interesting part of these dreams, from my readers' point of view, is the MC section - and if anyone feels inclined to write a story based on that bit, go right ahead. Just give me credit for the idea. And be sure to let me read it. ;-P But the thing that struck me most, on waking, was the whole idea of negative red. It's easy to say negative red is just green, but that's not necessarily true, is it? The opposite of red is green, but what's the negative of red? When you think about it, we're almost into Lovecraft territory here. And maybe there's a story in that idea, as well.
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