Dream on - I told myself

Its not a confession. Why should I confess? Its not a crime to day-dream. I have no qualms about being a Day-Dreamer, and an accomplished one at that.

Day-Dreaming is in fact an art and I seem to have perfected it from my days as a toddler.

My first recollection of my inimitable ability to day-dream stems from the resounding spanking received from a still vividly remembered lissome aunt of mine.
This one will aptly set the tone of my Day-dreaming memoirs’ collection. I distinctly remember being transferred from my father’s lap to the intoxicating arms of this Aunt of mine whose ample bosom would put Dolly Parton to shame. A minute or two of this enthralling embrace was enough to get my inborn day-dreaming instincts to action.

Lo and behold…the awesome bosom transformed into a sparkling white potty inviting me to discharge my water of life in its full glory. Believe me, the ultimate feeling of exhilaration for a toddler is to pee to his heart’s content. And toddlers of today take perverse pleasure in the place of discharging the excrement. I was much ahead of my time. The warmth of my elixir was enough to awaken the wrath of the lissome lass and the subsequent spanking put me on the path of being the king of all DDs (DD for Day-Dreamer from now on).

I've been a "DD" all my life.

Ms Mary’s History lesson classes were a DD’s haven. An hourglass figure would complement her resonating sensuous sermons and would transform an absolutely alert horse into a panting Day-dreaming dog. The determination to follow my parents’ cautious advice about being attentive in school was put to severe test by Ms Mary’s opulent story of Kings and Queens of yore. All those bullies were unable to collectively prevent me from taking the first desk in the class where Ms Mary would rest the frontal portion of her thighs for a fleeting moment while delivering her lecture. A momentary brush of that skirt was enough to take me into the early 20th century where I was King George V whose gorgeous queen Mary had a striking resemblance to my history teacher. Rest of the lecture was personally delivered in the form of sweet whispers and eventual throes of passion on a Victorian era King-size bed.

Those initial years set the tone for regular sojourns into the stimulating world of Dreams. And I told myself, Dream on!!!!