Letters From Heather - 2027 - Wild Dream

(Yeah, I'm a bit of a space geek. I know the billionaires are shitty with their dick rockets, but I'm actually super thrilled about the day in the not-too-distant future when humans set foot on the surface of Mars. We are a nomadic species, and it's a destiny fulfillment kinda thing. Hunters and foragers, the open road still softly calls, and all that good stuff. Illustration for this little vignette by the incredible AldoInHeaven. You can find him on IG, Twitter, and even here on Patreon. I love the direction he took with this one — etherial and whimsical as always, and pretty effing sexy for fans of biiiig boobs presented unexpectedly! :-P)

###

Not sure what caused it. Hitting the refresh button every 30 seconds for the last several days, waiting for updates along with the rest of the world? That really spicy chicken tikka masala? Usually, when I dream, it gets pretty vivid and intense in a way where my first thought on waking up is something like, “Woah… that would make an awesome sci-fi/action movie.” More often than not, however, the dream fizzles from memory pretty quickly, with only a few non-sequitur snippets remaining for long-term memory storage. Probably for the best: like that brilliant stroke of inspiration you jot down while high as a kite, only to look at it the next day, and think, “What the heck was I thinking? That’s a terribly dumb idea.”

This dream was different. Not so much a dream, but a scene — one that was vivid, hyper-realistic feeling, and upon waking, positively seared into my mind in a way that stuck with me until long after the coffee hit. Refresh button, again — no new news. Though they’re saying that we shouldn’t expect any new developments for another day or so, anyway.

I remember asking my mom what it felt like when we landed on the moon. She said she can’t really remember. She was just hanging out with friends, read about it in the paper the next day. That made me a little sad. How could she not give a huge shit about arguably the coolest thing that humans have ever done? I’m the opposite. Refreshing my phone like a derelict, waiting for some update that says, “Breaking: Humans Just a Little Closer to Red Planet.” Well, duh. I guess I’m just excited for tomorrow evening, at approximately 8:54 p.m., Eastern Standard Time.

Probably has a little to do with my imagination running wild. Having thoroughly nerded out for the past 7 months, I think I might know what the inside of The Ziggy Stardust looks like better than the astronauts do. That thing looks massive from the outside, but inside? I can’t imagine it not being a little... cramped at times. I mean, I guess they’ve been doing it on the ISS forever, but I dunno… at least you can look out of the ISS and see the Earth. It’s gotta feel different just chilling out in the blank void of space, watching your little blue dot get smaller and smaller.

Weird food… recycled pee… I wonder what everyone’s favorite bad TV show is, or if there’s a person like in The Martian who has an irrational, Manic Pixie Dream Love of Disco?

And just the gravity. Or lack of it. That has to have been lurking in the back of my mind. In this dream, I wasn’t on a spaceship, per se. It didn’t feel cold, and mechanical. It felt lush, and just a little green, like a grove in the middle of a forest, but still somehow artificial, like a movie set, or something.

I had that slight tinge of fear, like a subdued version of the sense of surprise you feel when you’re falling. But I wasn’t falling, nor was I standing, exactly — any feeling of up or down didn’t really “click.” Arms stretched down my sides, waiting to find a way to become useful.  My breath felt bated; my lungs were full, so I was only able to take short huffs of breath. Completely naked.

My toes were barely touching the ground. From time to time, an outstretched foot made contact, but the slightest push set me back up again, nearly weightless, a few inches off the ground. What would that be… half-a-percent gravity?

My loose, long hair floated to the side of my head. I swear I could feel strands brushing against my shoulders as I continued a series of ultra-slow motion bounces, always waiting with trepidation to find out when my toe would make contact with the ground again.

And, my breasts. Hoooly shit, dude. They were… fucking huge? (And from me, of course, that’s saying something.) It’s weird, but the whole dream was sort-of from my POV, so I couldn’t really see over their “horizon” or anything. But sometimes, in dreams, you have this greater awareness, this “feeling” of what the reality is like, so in that odd narrative my subconscious had cobbled together, I just knew that they were waaay larger than could ever be reasonable. (An observation that has been leveled at real-life-awake me once or twice, so, again, saying something.) Let’s just say that I have the distinct impression that normal shit, like walking, would have probably been impossible with that pesky Earth gravity; in the case of this dream, they bobbed strangely, up-and-down and side-to-side, gently bouncing off my legs, or off one another, obscuring my sight to one side or another from time to time, until tension retrieved them into their slow, chaotic, gently colliding orbit.

As I’m writing, that’s another thing. I know I was asleep, in my own bed, so it’s not like I’m particularly dealing with the ravages of the natural forces or anything, but in the dream, they felt weightless, which was a little alien, to be honest. I mean, letting them float in a pool kiiinda gives a similar feeling, but there’s always some pull of some persuasion, even if it’s just one of being anchored to reality. But (as someone who has been officially busty, in one form or another, for the past… 12 years now? It was just a skosh surreal.

Can’t say I hated it, though. It’s a dream I would probably appreciate a bit more if I had it again. It felt creepy at first, but by the end, just before the alarm went off, everything was... peaceful. Who knows. Maybe I’ll get to head up into space someday. Start a GoFundMe and promise a video of big floaty boobies to all of those who were kind enough to spot the ticket price (though I might be out of luck in the space suit department).

Anyway. Crazy stuff. Maybe I’ll pound some vindaloo tonight and see if I can trick my brain into a Round 2.