Earning My Stripes: A Dream Allegory

Some days I feel like this little piggy in the picture, adopted by tigers, trying to earn my quite literal stripes, all the while thinking that at some point soon, I am going to be devoured. I meant to write last night, but ran out of time. That post, which is still to come, would have been about the fiction I am now writing. I've given up trying to write straight fiction and have realized that if the subject of spanking has me writing again, then perhaps I should run with it in my fiction as well. Of course, I'm struggling a bit, and so I was hoping to sort it out in text.

Since I didn't get to write about spanking, I dreamed about the spanking world instead. But this wasn't a playful dream in which my bottom was bared. No, I dreamed about all of us and our blogs, in which we existed like exhibits at a zoo. Some of the exhibits were large and lush--those belonged to the more established personalities and writers. My exhibit was small and new, but clean, with a little plaque with the name "Abby" on it.

At this spanking zoo, one particular girl had a beautiful, tropical exhibit near mine. She had tiger stripes. She was planning a costume party (a strange activity for a tiger, but this is dream logic) and I was the Cinderella of the tale, wanting terribly to go to the ball. Then, to my absolute bliss, she invited me!

Mysterious dream things occurred; time passed. Briefly, there was an octopus. Then it was the day of the ball. All of the girls wore amazing satin dresses with detailed backsides--intricate beading, lace, and, of course, little ties that could fix the hem of the dress to the waist, since this was, after all, a costume ball for the animal people of the spanking zoo. I, however, had no dress. The tiger girl, in a sumptous cream confection, offered to help me. We found a costume closet at the back of the ballroom, filled with the strange outfits you might find in the costume closet of a college theater arts department. I could have dressed as Puck, or Dogberry, or an Elizabethan nurse. I could have worn the uniform of a Confederate Civil War soldier. But the only dress we could find that was appropriate was sage green, made from wallpaper fabric. The sleeves wouldn't stay up over my shoulders and the zipper wouldn't go up over my bottom. It didn't have any of the features that all the other girls' dresses had. So I attended the ball, but my dress kept falling off. Everyone kept saying I ought to be punished for wearing such a silly dress, but because my dress wasn't as fun as everyone else's, no one wanted to do the actual punishing.

I don't think anyone is really looking at me that way. I've felt nothing but accepted here. Maybe it's just that it's been eight days since my last spanking, or that I got writer's block this weekend as I came close to the scene that up until that point I had been so excited to write. Maybe it's just that I'm not getting as much time to write as I'd like. Or maybe it's that little girl inside me who never felt like she fit in, and she's just so scared that now that she's fitting in, it's going to be taken away somehow.

Or maybe I was just overtired and the forward I'd been sent about a mama tiger who adopted orphaned piglets became this distorted brain debris. And what was up with the octopus? I think this little piggy just needs her little pinkish-white bottom to be covered in tiger stripes so she can go on to think about other things. Other things on the same subject, of course.