My old friend from the university was waiting for me in the neighboring room while I was fumbling with an awkward condom dispenser. I was naked. It took me some time to realize I had to break off a single condom package from a stem with a large number of such packages sticking out in all directions. Each condom was wrapped in thick aluminum foil, which was dark blue on the outside. As I was unwrapping the package, I returned to the room where I left my friend. I remember that the door opened to the right, and that he was sitting on a sofa to the right of the door. The room was long and narrow in that direction. It was windowless, too. There was a bookshelf on the wall opposite the sofa. I also remember that the room was painted pale yellow, and that there were no paintings on the walls, which was a bit unusual for our home. To my surprise, my friend was jacking off and smoking at the same time. He looked at me when I entered, his eyes at half mast, but he kept wanking. He was going fast. I think he used his left hand. Cigarette smoke rose from his right hand, which was resting on the sofa away from me. I could not see his penis, though. It was covered by a large, white T-shirt he was wearing. He was still fully dressed. Then he looked aside and started going even faster. It was clear I had interrupted him, and that he was eager to come. Several thoughts passed through my mind at once. I was afraid that the smoke would attract the attention of my parents, who were sleeping at the time, as they do in the afternoon. I remember glancing anxiously in the direction of their rooms through several open doors separating us. At the same time, I felt left out. I could not understand why he would jerk off by himself when he knew I was coming back. Most important, I felt cheated out of something I felt he had tacitly promised me. I am not sure why I went to fetch a condom, but I remember vaguely that we had played with each other before I left. One thing I remember very clearly is that I have guided his hand to my erect penis. He was a bit shy, but he obviously enjoyed touching me, holding me. I enjoyed his hand on me, too. I must have been naked already. I must have felt that he had understood that I wanted him to jerk me off. The only mystery of my dream is why I went to get a condom, because all I wanted was for the two of us to play with each other’s pricks. Entering him, or he entering me, was out of the question.

Addendum I (April 1, 2000)

When I woke up, I immediately decided not to write this down. I did not want my old friend, who was utterly innocent of my dream, to be embarrassed by it. Besides, I comforted myself that many parts of my dream were garbled. But this decision ran against my principles. Actually, I was surprised by it. My book should not suffer from such compunctions, no matter how perplexing my dreams. After a meeting with the woman who had organized the conference that brought me to Finland, I changed my mind as I was walking back to my hotel. By the time I reached the door, I was already weak in my knees. I was aroused. I took my clothes off and started to write. It took me a long time to feel comfortable with the piece describing my last sexual experience. When I finished, I read the piece slowly. My prick quickly fattened and hardened in my hands. Wanking myself ever faster, I savored every word. I was rewarded before reaching the last sentence. Having had not a single orgasm for a week or maybe two, I came abundantly. Washing myself afterwards, I marveled once again at the untold joys of writing and reading.

Addendum II (April 27, 2017)

The friend in my dream was Milan Brkić, known to all as Brka. Rest in peace, old friend. Close as we were for years, there was never any hint at playing with each other in any way. And wanking together was nigh unimaginable. I am adding a few words here for no other reason than completion. One way or another, Brka’s name completes this story, albeit with a huge question mark. Dreams are only dreams, after all.