Heart’s Desire. Sinful Sunday #389

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Dorothy: …and it’s that – if I ever go looking for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any further than my own backyard. Because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right?
Glinda: That’s all it is!
Scarecrow: But that’s so easy! I should’ve thought of it for you –
Tin Man: I should have felt it in my heart –
Glinda: No, she had to find it out for herself. Now those magic slippers will take you home in two seconds!
Dorothy: Oh! Toto too?
Glinda: Toto too.
Dorothy: Now?
Glinda: Whenever you wish…
Glinda: Then close your eyes and tap your heels together three times. And think to yourself, ‘There’s no place like home’.

The Wizard of Oz

L Frank. Baum

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Sinful Sunday

 

The thing about rabbits

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He stealthily circled his rabbit hearted girl. Ever watchful and often deceptively quiet, she moved through her world with apparent confidence and ease. Yet, he knew better, for he observed her more intently than she knew. Underneath her mindful observance she was frequently alert, all senses heightened.

Readying to jump.

He sensed she’d welcome the touch that would stave off that flight and freeze instinct of hers. To allow her to shed her carefully concealed prey disposition, even for a while, and relax into the security she secretively craved. He’d noticed how quick to startle she was, sometimes she’d right herself and carry on with a renewed resolve.

Other times she’d flee.

That’s the thing about rabbits he supposed. They have a certain stalwart ability to sense danger, whilst simultaneously appearing seemingly indifferent. Yet, it would not be accurate to describe her as nonchalant for this would do her a great disservice. More, it was an expression of stealthy survival earned from a lifetime of foraging for peace and, as such, her strive to survive forged a strength within her as tenacious as the grass upon which she lay. Stretched out, eyes closed and nose twitching, surrounded by the silent winged dances of insects and flighty meadow seeds, she pawed at the grass, inhaling the scent of summer. The grass upon which he edged closer.

His lapin.

The thing about rabbits is their keen intuition and quick as lightning responses, so when he foolishly attempted too eagerly to breach the space between them she immediately opened her clear blue eyes wide and flipped to her side in an attempt to rise. His honed reactions mirrored hers as his cunning ignited.

He pounced.

Muscle and sinew stretching and contracting as he landed over her, around her, trapping her. His narrowed green eyes and canines glinted menacingly in the light as a bass rumble emanated from deep within his chest. He caught her foot in his grip as he flipped her.

Predator and prey.

The thing about rabbits is a back flip tends to subdue them in a freeze response. The thing about rabbits, however, is they know how to defend themselves. And the thing about rabbits is that one tends to supersede the other. She kicked out, rapid bicycling of her strong lower limbs, muscle impacting against muscle. She scratched his taut forearms as he covered her muzzle with his clawed hand. She bit against his palm as he nipped.

Her velvet ears.

“That’s it my lapin, fight me,” he urged “my precious creature.” Kneeing her thighs apart and ripping at the silken fabric of her heat, he took what was his as she finally calmed under him, contracting around him. Silently, she nuzzled her soft nose against his rough whiskers, her rabbit heart pounding to the beat of his primal rutting as she finally found the quiet place deep in the burrow of her mind, the place where she could run free. The place only he could take her.

On the grass as tenacious and wild as her.

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The Coronet

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She stood at the edge of the mezzanine level, bent at the waist, hands gripping the brass rail. Her gloss heels and polished latex skater skirt reflecting the laser show lights that danced across the chill out area. The force of his cock, pumping into her from behind, rocked her back and forth on her tip toes, almost in time to the trance music blaring from the heaving dance floor below.

I sat, resting in the red velvet theatre seat, and watched them. He sat next to me, hand resting protectively on my stocking clad thigh, intently observing me observing them.

“Do you like what you see?” he enquired.

I squirmed in my seat, simultaneously embarrassed at silently revealing my admittance. I smiled, my eyes never leaving them, increasingly aroused by our view. She had her head down now, bracing against his thrusts as her long hair swayed to and fro. Oblivious to their audience and the extravagantly dressed kinksters coming and going around them.

He leant in towards me ever so slightly, as his hand trailed up my thigh and stopped. Eyes forward, his other arm casually resting on the flocked arm rest, he tapped one finger against my mound.

“Open your legs.” It wasn’t a request.

I slid forward a little and tilted my pelvis, opening my legs as wide as the seat would allow. I rested one heel on the back of the empty seat in front.

“Don’t make a sound, just watch” he whispered. Finding the slit of my open crotch latex knickers he dipped one then two fingers into me, swirling my wetness around the rubber, both acknowledging and shaming my response to him, and them.

Silently, slowly, excruciatingly he finger fucked me. Expertly matching his penetration to that of the cock below. Mesmerised by what I could see, and stimulated by what I could feel, the sight and the sensation blended. The cock was fucking me, he was fucking me, he was fingering me, and he was not going to stop.

I clutched at the arm rests as my cunt clutched at his relentless sopping fingers. The scent of my arousal hung in the air like the smoke and the sweat from the dancers below. And the beat of the music pounded on as he pounded me and he pounded her.

“You love to watch don’t you?” he growled, breaking the silence between us. “My filthy little voyeur.” Desperate now for more I rocked my hips to take him deeper, to open wider and ride his fingers harder.

“Please…” I whimpered, feeling it rise within me, powerless to prevent it against the repeated pressure against my clit, his finger tips grazing my G spot over and over in harmony to the fucking being played out in front of us, a show within a show.

”Please, what?…”

Fuck, he was going to make me do this. I glanced down. He had her by the hair now, head pulled back, mouth open, his hand gripping her hip as he used her like a doll. Nearly there.

“Please”

”Can”

”I”

”Come”

Each word forced out on ragged exhales, balancing on that knife edge between here and oblivion. He withdrew his fingers fully and as I gasped at the sudden emptiness and began to turn he forced them back inside me. Deeper. Fuller.

”Now”

I clamped around his hand as I combusted, arching hard against the waves and involuntarily throwing my head back against the knees of whoever was sitting behind us, echoing the fuck doll at the rail, her own climax drowned out by the bass beat below us.

And the lasers danced and flickered and the party people came and went as we chilled out in the Coronet.

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Why I love PRICK

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When Cuiplash and I first dipped our toes into this exciting new world of BDSM a number of years ago, I quickly became aware of all the labels and acronyms surrounding risk, consent and play. It became obvious to me that the wealth of activities, toys and implements carried a wide range of actual or perceived risk. 

The first one I became familiar with was Safe, Sane & Consensual (SSC). This seemed to be the most familiar and accepted guide as a cover all for most activities and is pretty self explanatory. It assumes that participants agree that what they do is safe, that it is done with sound mind and with consent from all involved. One criticism of SSC, however, is that it doesn’t necessarily encompass risk awareness. It also relies somewhat on perceptions of what is safe or sane and potentially assumes some acts as safe and others as not, when in fact, all carry risk and are not inherently safe, or sane.

This takes us to the next broadly accepted  alternative guide that is Risk Aware Consensual Kink (RACK). This focuses much more on assuming all parties are risk aware and consent is implicit so I would say it’s potentially an improvement on SSC, although can also be criticised on the assumptions that participants have ensured they are risk aware.

A third acronym deals more specifically with the emotional and mental well-being of all involved, a notion not necessarily encompassed by SSC or RACK, and is known as Committed Compassionate Consent (CCC). This one, for many, fills a perceived gap in ensuring not just the physical safety of those involved but the consideration of the whole person.

My favourite, however, is Personal Responsibility, Informed Consensual Kink (PRICK), which is seen as an extension of RACK. I love PRICK (lol) as it makes more sense to me to be actively involved in my own kink education and risk awareness. It makes sense to me to accept personal responsibility for choosing to participate in risky activities from an informed position.

I feel I cannot expect to put that responsibility entirely on Cuiplash, despite trusting him implicitly. Despite being his submissive, I am also first and foremost his wife, his partner, his best friend and the mother of his children and I believe I have an equal part to play in learning and understanding the risks we take with my body, my emotions and my mental wellbeing when we play the way we do sometimes. His emotions and wellbeing are of equal importance and, for us, knowing we both understand what we are doing and why, and the potential impacts, serves to strengthen our connection and mutual trust and confidence in each other to do no harm.

As we developed our D/s and our S&M we explored many things and slowly and gradually pushed boundaries, particularly around the more ‘edgy’ activities including fisting, breath play and knife play. It took us a number of years to build upon and develop an increased repertoire to our initial kink and play foundation and I would really urge new people to take it slowly and at your own pace. For each, however, I wanted to ensure I knew exactly what the risks were, what to be aware of, what not to do and where the risks lay. I remember researching caning early on, when it was a hard limit for me, and finding out skin can be split and feeling terrified at the prospect. Caning is now a firm favourite for us both as that boundary shifted over time with experience and confidence, and despite receiving some impressive welts, stripes and bruising thankfully my initial concern has never been realised. I think I appreciated the act and the cane more for understanding its risks.

Cuiplash and I regularly share information, discuss concerns and jointly and individually research and test out toys and activities before we use or do them so we are both involved in understanding and appreciating the risks involved and making an informed decision on how, and to what extent, to proceed together. I enjoy learning alongside him and jointly choosing what will work for us or what he or I would like to try. The final decision, of course, is his and how, when and if I do.

I think it’s important to note that all of these terms are subjective and are open to interpretation and scrutiny. Some are received and accepted more than others and all have their pros and cons. Whether you subscribe to SSC, RACK, CCC or love PRICK like me, I think it’s important to understand what each means to you both and to what extent it applies to and works for your own relationship.

Double edged sword

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Cuiplash loves to edge me in a variety of ways. He is very good at using my triggers and his sadistic streak gets off on turning me on whilst simultaneously reducing me to a frustrated mess. He will edge me to the brink of orgasm sexually, often repeatedly, until I can’t take it any longer and he finally permits me to come. He’ll arouse me verbally during play with commands, questions and humiliatingly hot observations. He’ll tap into my psyche and ignite my submissive mindset by messaging me when we’re apart. He will use nips, bites, pinches and scratches to edge me through a day with little flurries of delicious pain that translate in my body as pleasure.

All of this serves to mentally and physically place me exactly where he wants me and I love him putting me there when he does. There’s something about that wanton and needy head space, focused on him and preoccupied with release.

The interesting thing is, Cuiplash sometimes harbours a certain masochism, if you could call it that, and also derives pleasure from edging himself, by using and edging me. A double edging if you like. He’ll fuck me to the verge of his own orgasm and then stop. He’ll use my mouth and direct my hands until he can feel that threshold and then stop. Each time he takes us both to that edge he becomes more primal but will still deny me his cock and his come…until later. He’ll do this during play, and will sometimes enjoys this in the morning before we have to get up and start the business of the day, leaving us both frustratingly stimulated and aching for more of each other.

It is very effective as a mind fuck as it can heighten any other contact through the day for us both. A look, a grip or a message can all take on a further intensity as we connect back to what nearly was, but wasn’t quite. And of what is still to come later. Including us!

My relationship with pain

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My relationship with pain is a long and complicated one. One I’ve only fairly recently come to terms with and accepted within myself.

I started hurting myself when I was around 10 years old, past most of the traumatic events of my childhood but a few years short of being out of the woods yet regarding my father’s unstable and violent behaviours. I remember becoming engrossed in picking the backs of my arms and legs, feeling for bumps and tiny imperfections that had to be removed. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I learned that this obsessive form of self grooming is a type of stress response that becomes a default self soothing behaviour in response to trauma.

When I was 14 I pulled out my first head hair. Trichotillomania joined the dermatillomania as my main body focused repetitive behaviours that allowed me to inflict tiny calming repetitive pains upon my body. I’d say that I’m lucky that neither resulted in significant hair loss or skin damage, however, I’ll admit these are unhelpful habits that I still struggle with particularly when stressed.

As an adult I sustained a couple of significant injuries to my hip and rotator cuff shoulder cartilage as a result of bad falls I experienced whilst taking part in sports I enjoyed. Neither of these injuries were ever properly treated and I live with chronic pain and discomfort as a result. This tends to be on a sliding scale of being unaware until I direct my attention there to constant pain exarcerbated by movement and requiring pain medication. I should really seek surgery but one, I’m scared of the risk and two, rehabilitation.

Emotional pain is a big one for me. You’ll know from my writings that earlier this year I was finally diagnosed with Complex PTSD as a result of the shit show that was my childhood. I’ve lived my whole life managing and masking difficult anxiety and depression symptoms to a greater or lesser extent whilst still being functional in all regards. Recently I’ve been learning about the reasons why, and  developing additional awareness of hypervigilance, painful emotional triggering, self worth and attachment based symptoms that I experience too as a result of my experiences. These will take time to heal from and I know I’ve still a long way to go, but I’m on it.

I never chose any of those pains, and at times I can feel helpless in their grip. I can only choose how to manage them, hide them, accept them and heal them. When Cuiplash and I started to introduce power exchange and BDSM into the bedroom, however, a world of pain I could actually choose opened up.

We’d spent roughly two or three years drifting and surviving the sleep deprivation of our youngest, non sleeping child. When things in that regard settled down and we once again had the energy to reconnect our desire was different. More focused, clearer and with an edge. I wanted him to take full control, I needed it more than before and more extreme than before. I’d say I had always been submissive in the bedroom but my fantasies now were around CNC, being overpowered, restrained, taken and made to hurt for him.

I wrestled with this desire for a long time. How could I even begin to want this in my relationship? How could I have witnessed and experienced the violence between my mother and father and actually want to be spanked, held down…and more? I thought there was something wrong with me. But my curiosity and my need to relinquish myself to him eventually won.

The first time Cuiplash bare hand spanked me, not just a couple of half assed arse pats but a proper hard, cheek reddening, squirming, gasping, heat inducing OTK spanking was an epiphany moment for us both. THIS was amazing pain, this was arousing, exhilarating, exciting pain full of passion, need and release. I was soaked, he was hard. We looked at each other with new eyes and laughed. This was the beginning of our acceptance and exploration into our S&M within our D/s.

We took our time, although it’s fair to say that a ready supply of Dom and sub frenzy fuelled the fires for the first year or two, consuming us with a want to do all the things and try all the things. And all the things hurt and I bloody loved it. And all the things hurt and he bloody loved dishing it out. And we still do. We feel lucky that, unawares to each other up until that point, we did not know how well we fitted regarding pain play. How well my masochism danced with his sadism, built on a growing foundation of D/s and our inherent trust, respect, communication and love.

We’ve continued to push our boundaries, learn new things, explore new situations and toys and understand our desires and reactions. Things that were initially hard limits, such as caning, I now ask for and accept willingly. I’ve found pain play to be a tremendous source of arousal, having experienced ‘paingasms’ through impact. Sexual pain turns me on, whether biting, pinching, scratching, pulling, nipping, impact or restraint. Cuiplash will sometimes purposely edge me with small acts of pain play through the day as he knows the effect it has on me, and he gets off on it too.

Consensual pain also provides a rich source of centering energy for us both. It can provide me with emotional catharsis and a positive way to purge difficult feelings. It overrides the chronic pain in such a way that I’m discomfort free for a couple of days after an intense scene. It also creates opportunity for fun and laughter as at times, particularly during public play, I usually end up a giggling mess. It focuses my attention and nurtures a deep trust and connection for us both, pulling us together in a different way. It brings mindfulness and appreciation to my breath and body and will, more often than not, induce the addictive and wonderful experience of subspace. I embrace my love of pain now, accepting my needs, and his.

Kis’s Kinks – Rope Bondage

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Bondage, of any description, is a major kink for Cuiplash and I. Whether verbal, predicament or with cuffs, tape or chains I love being restrained by him, to be used by him. There is something so incredibly freeing and arousing about being bound, restricted in movement and unable to escape.

Rope bondage is something we’ve experimented with across the years, but not in any great depth. I am always in awe watching experienced riggers demonstrate their skills at events. We tend to use different chest harnesses, single and double column ties and predicament ties. I love the feel of rope hugging my body, and revel in the indentations and marks that are left afterwards.

Another tie we enjoy is a self tie body harness that is quick and really easy to do for beginners. This tie also looks and feels great, we use a 10m length of rope for this one which is ample for my ‘curvier’ figure.

Here are the steps to follow –

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This self tie features two crotch ropes that are all kinds of fun to play with. They can be used to clamp the clit and/or the labia, hold a dildo, plug, vibrator or wand in place or be used for placement of additional crotch knots.  This tie can also be hidden under clothes…it’s very versatile!

Cuiplash and I hope to develop our skills in rope further, although most of the fun for us is in the practice of basic ties and how we can incorporate these in our play and scenes.

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Boobday is a body-positive meme where women share images of their bodies in order to show that there is beauty in all of us.  With confidence comes power and with power comes confidence.

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Intention & our hidden narrative

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Reflecting upon our D/s lifestyle, the one word I keep coming back to in my mind is intention. For Cuiplash and I, living and loving with intention is our underlying hidden narrative that enables us to keep our focus on each other, our values and our D/s marriage.

This is not to say we bumbled along completely unawares and out of touch for 23 years prior to formalising our D/s within our relationship as that would do us both a great disservice, however, I think it would be fair to say that at times across the years we were carried along by the various events of our life together like leaves in a stream. We sometimes lacked the tools, opportunity and focus to effectively communicate and determine our path together with shared intention consistently.

When we began to introduce power exchange and BDSM into our marriage, it was initially within the bedroom, and was entirely sexually driven. Our intentions were clear and unambiguous as they were primarily act driven. We found however, as time went on, that our D/s began to naturally spill out into the rest of our relationship as we both found it increasingly jarring to switch in and out of Dominant and submissive mindsets. Our D/s created the space to connect to each other deeply beyond just the physical, increasing our bond emotionally and mentally. We realised individually and together how this was an authentic fit for us and how it benefited our marriage. It took us time, and is still a work in progress as all relationships are, but integrating intention within our D/s and the hidden narrative that underpins this allows us the opportunity to weave improved consistency and increased strength throughout our dynamic.

I wrote a little about being clear on why you are doing something in my piece Knowing Your Why and this principle, for us, applies to intention in our dynamic. Our primary intention within our relationship now is to do our best to honour each others’ needs by focusing on each other in a number of ways. What we have found is, in doing so, we create a hidden narrative in our communication, our thoughts and our actions. What starts as intention creates a behaviour, in turn this behaviour becomes a habit, the habit develops into a practice and this practice becomes a matter of course. Our D/s has grown, developed and encouraged who we are, what we do and, more importantly, why we do it.

When Cuiplash messages me to ask if I took a nap and ate and drank enough on my non working day, his intention comes from concern and care. We are both clear that the hidden narrative is that he is checking that I’m looking after myself and my needs as this is an agreed rule. In turn, when I reply to confirm I have, my intention is to honour our D/s, the hidden narrative is that I respect his rule and his check in. When I’m struggling and getting into an anxious flap about something and he takes me by the wrist and calls me my sub name his intention is to care for and calm me by positively triggering  me. The hidden narrative reinforces his Dominance, reminds me of our power exchange and my place and thus creates security. These are just two examples amongst many that we share.

Recognising shared intention and hidden narrative is a way for us to foster consistency. Intention is the fuel that feeds our D/s foundation and our shared vision. Instead of being carried along without focus or tools, we consciously try to create structure through our aims, our actions and how we direct our energy in relation to each other. Our intentions honour our chosen lifestyle as they nurture the space to recognise each other and ourselves with increased clarity and authenticity. Choosing intentions within our D/s in regards to how we communicate, how we care for each other, how we meet each others’ needs and how we value our D/s is fundamentally a conscious lifestyle act that always comes from a place of shared love and respect.

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Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Making his point

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I’ve been struggling this week. I became ill with a bad cold after Kinkfest and had to take a couple of days off work, I got my godawful period and I hit a major subdrop after our scenes at the event. Don’t they say things come in threes? Safe to say I’ve felt better.

The thing is, as the week wore on I felt worse emotionally, even as the cold symptoms and my period eased up somewhat. I was sleeping well but still waking tired, I was emotional and tears were never far below the surface. I felt worn out, increasingly overwhelmed, and simple tasks felt too much to start, let alone achieve.

This weekend I hit a bit of a wall with it, dipping further yesterday. I felt really tired, vulnerable, and lacking in resilience and energy. I didn’t do very much except drop our youngest at a friend’s birthday party and collect him again. The shine back on to converse with other parents I don’t know. I tend to worry when I feel this familiar feeling sneaking in. I’m not medicated and I start to wonder if I should be. Or if I can just push through as I tend to do.

Cuiplash sat me down once the kids were in bed and pulled the Dom card on me. My agreed sub name is my birth name initial and he uses this when he’s being serious when we talk. His intention is very clear to me when he calls me this. He uses it during play also but in a different way. I’ve mentioned before how poor I am at verbally expressing my feelings, wants and needs and when he uses my sub name and doesn’t allow me wriggle space to dodge in this way it helps me, as I don’t need to worry about deciding anymore. He has made the decision and it frees me.

So, over tea, biscuits and tears, we spoke. He told me to tell him how I am, how I feel, what I need and what he could do. He asked if something had triggered me and he checked if anything had happened. He told me he was worried about me and that he loved me and that I was to talk. He reassured me that he was going to look after me and that it was ok to feel how I was feeling. That I am precious. We laughed about Gollum. He told me that he was going to give me a hard spanking, an orgasm and tuck me into bed to get a good sleep.

Upstairs he stripped me, took me by the throat and kissed me. I must’ve been distracted as he pat slapped my cheek a couple of times with his four fingers. Not enough to hurt me but enough to get my full attention. There’s something acutely humiliating yet arousing about this action that combines mild shock with curiosity over my reaction to it. Whatever it is, it focuses me and puts me quickly and deeply in a submissive head space. He told me he knew I wanted to take pictures and that he would be dealing with that as we played.

Sensation first, nipple play. That hot wire of electricity that runs between them and my clit. Sucking, biting, the wheel, the blade, his teeth. We had fun recording it all.

Then, with his hand on the small of my back he held me down, bent over the bed, and bare hand spanked me hard until my arse glowed and I moaned and writhed needing more. He turned me over and laid me on the towel he’d placed down, spreading my legs wide for him. He took hold of my tampon thread and pulled it out.

Now, we’d done a clear out and tidy up of our toy bench last weekend and had no lube, having not yet ordered more of the kind we like. I was dry from the end of my period but I wanted to be filled and used. He spat on our cock dildo and used his saliva and my blood to lubricate me, as the wand on my clit and the penetration of the toy encouraged my body to make its own.

He spoke to me about enjoying watching the cock fuck me, how hard it was making him. How the cock wanted to come inside me but wanted me to come all over it first. How I could do nothing about it as it fucked me hard and how I loved that I couldn’t do anything but take it. How I wanted that cock inside me. How my pussy belonged to him. How my orgasms were his. How I had to ask permission and how he knew how close I was. He’s so very good at getting inside my head with his words, fucking me there as he controls my body, arousing the two as one.

When I couldn’t take it any longer I begged him for it. And when I came I came hard and long, squirting and arching, stretched and taut. Jerking, gasping, squeaking and swearing. The wand was still on my clit as he drew more from me as this one ran into another and I was asking him to fuck me now. Desperate for his cock, his cum, to be consumed by his body and his heat as all else falls away leaving us. Only ever us.

After a while he wrapped me up in bed, permission granted to post my picture then orders to go to sleep. He asked how I was feeling. Lighter, brighter, happier, more peaceful. He kissed my head and said goodnight. His point, as always, well made.