Betty Dodson with Carlin Ross

Better Orgasms. Better World.

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I FLOATED on the edge of sleep, lightly dreaming on a cloud of cool steam. The taste of my semen coated my mouth. I was nobody.

Relieved of desire, and relieved of identity.

My first cognitive thought in that space was that my erotic identity had been erased. My sexual orientation, my unbearable craving for women, my curiosity for men, my drive to explore myself-all had disappeared and replaced by the thin stream of breath entering and exiting my body.

My mind drifted around images and memories of what I had just experienced with Enesa and Jon, who were now secluded privately in their room once again. Then an idea coalesced around the feeling I was floating within: I had returned to the scene of my conception, recreating it as a conscious experience.

I was still helpless there, that is, I was drawn to existence by the expression of sex by people outside of myself. I was pulled toward them, casting off the psychic shell that I now know of as my body, compelled to express myself in the world only in response to the power of their expression. I owed my existence to theirs. I owed my orgasm to theirs.

I had exposed myself entirely before She and He who had created me, ridding myself of my ego structure, of pride and dignity. These thoughts floated by slowly, like they were suspended in plasma.

The seed of life, the seat of neurosis: parents. I had accepted myself openly in front of them. I surrendered all their projections back to them, and moved on-shockingly naked of psyche without the failures of prior generations.

Alive.

Breathing like a child. I am not sure at what point the boundary between dream and reality melted, but I was floating, and it was now hot, and I could feel the pleasure and pressure, I could swim in it, there were many like me around me.

I was free to explore every nuance of the experience. Then the universe began to convulse. I felt myself ride out of him on a stream of his remorse. Deep, unbearable regret: shame and loss of control, surrendering into that shame. A moment of release, but from one hell into another. His pleasure was incomplete.

I had tuned into my father ejaculating me!

And I felt the imprint of his emotions onto me, literally carried in the liquid surrounding the many sperm and the one who I was among a vast ocean of half-alive life and strangled emotion.

It was so simple: he was ashamed of his semen.

In my plasma-consciousness, I regressed backwards to the day when his mother made him feel that way. The scene flashed vividly, once and impressed itself like light onto a digital image captor. He was in the bathroom and his mother walked in on him, naked, standing up, jacking himself for the first time, she sees him directly. He lets go-he has to.

She is pleased by this, at first. His expression is mortified: he is killed by being witnessed by her. She then turns admonishing and instructs him never to do that again.

Like a hot, disgusting surge of water, this emotion struck me and I was capsized, a sperm suspended in semen tainted by toxic emotion like a sick fish. I could do nothing but surrender. I felt myself gush out.

I was now in my mother's body. The color, the emotional texture of the water surrounding me, was swept into change, and the surge of energy I can only describe as female surged its life into me. My tiny body was filled with certainty. I was aware of my surroundings, free of the disgusting morass that had ensnared me before.

I propelled myself through the clear blue pool of existence and then, filled with the energy of locomotion, moved toward my destination.

Arriving at the scene of something so vastly larger than myself, I felt that my death was imminent. For the first time I felt the presence of She. Spreading in all directions before me, incalculably vast: I now know, the ovum. I knew that if I touched her, I would die. All around me they hesitated, vibrating against the surface, perhaps terrified; perhaps not feeling the biological summon of invitation.

I plunged forward, touched her, and felt myself subsumed.

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