Scott Hoge (@Scott_Hoge)

The Difficulty of Having Sex Dreams as an Incel Imagine that the mind has a "wet dream factory." If you're a male and you stop masturbating, semen will build up, and the mind will produce a dream to allow it to be released. That is, *normally*. As we know, our dreams reflect our waking life. We dream about things we do during the day, and tend not to dream about things we don't. If we've *never* done something, we may find it hard to *ever* dream about it. For me -- a 42-year-old virgin -- that is true of sex. Although I have sex dreams *sometimes*, they've become less frequent every year. I cannot dream of sex as easily as others, because I've never experienced the act. My "wet dream factory," you could say, has no waking material to draw upon. I've noticed a pattern in my dreams. I tend to have nightmares earlier (around 1:00 PM). The more pleasant, mysterious dreams come afterward in the middle dream cycles. At the end of the night is when I dream the most about sex. Based on this, I conjecture that we Incels are naturally made to suffer shorter sleep. While our bodies do, of necessity, undergo the initial, essential, restorative sleep phase ("non-REM sleep") earlier in the night, we tend to go without the dessert of that one last REM cycle: the sex dream. It is as if our "wet dream factory" has been shut off. Experts say that sex is good for your sleep. And they're right: sex deprivation (to reverse their claim cynically) *is* bad for your sleep. Well, bad *unless something replaces it*. For me, that "something" is a zinc supplement. I find that by taking zinc, I can kill off stress and get that extra dream in, which is sometimes even a sex dream (as zinc has an aphrodisiac effect). There is something to be said for an Incel who "cheats" his way into better sleep by means of zinc supplements. The sleep has to come from the supplement and not from the sex life. This may produce weird, mysterious, artificial, "supplement-y" sex dreams where ordinary people would dream about their usual sex. Or, in some cases, we still may not dream about sex at all. If taking supplements produces strange dreams, what might it say about the world? How might it *affect* the world? We Incels are cursed with the misfortunate that when we masturbate, the partner with whom we imagined having sex afterward "disappears." There is no cuddling, no bonding, no intimacy, no connection. Think how bad it feels to get "dumped" by your significant other. An Incel is "dumped" every time he masturbates. What does it mean for us? Are we losing ourselves in a "fantasy world"? Could the fantasy be "popped," resuting in excruciating pain in the realization that every orgasm was a lie? That may be what happened when I was 21. I dreamed I was in high school again with my nerdy outfit, and I into a mirror. I came to a realization that I was ugly. I stood from that mirror and noticed my heart was *wrenching in agony*. When I woke, I was still in pain. I almost went to the emergency room that day. Now -- being twice the age and having continued to masturbate -- I've noticed something more concerning: a kind of *interaction* between my sex dreams and the events of my waking life. Whenever I have a sex dream, it seems to be followed by misfortune. As an example, my high school crush (whom I will respectfully not name) appeared in an unusually intense wet dream in which I hugged her. Today, she claims to be a lesbian. The following morning, I was tailgated *extremely closely* by a boyfriend/girlfriend couple, and the boyfriend shouted, "You look like a bitch!" (I captured it in a recording and posted it here under my Gab account.) Is there something preternatural about dreams -- and sex dreams in particular -- that connects us mentally, even telepathically? Could that irritated driver, who throws a can at you on the way to work, "know" that despite being a virgin, you got some action that night? Or, could it be the universe's way of "punishing" you for becoming enmeshed in a world of fantasy? A kind of worldly causality that, in its severity, exceeds that of heartbreak? What am I getting at? These dream-related phenomena -- the sleep deprivation, the heartbreak, the misfortunes -- are evidence that *sex is a need*. When we do not get sex, misfortune occurs. We get treated worse. We dream less. We fall in the status hierarchy, and others kick us down for tiptoeing back up even one step. In some cases -- notably my own -- we may break down in a vicious cycle of autoimmune disease. As further evidence that sex is a need, I now highlight an incident that occurred just a week ago. Following a bad birthday encounter with a tailgating truck, I dreamed of bringing food out of a microwave to a table at which my aforementioned high school crush was sitting. She blew a whistle, which created a *deafeningly loud* truck horn sound -- louder than anything I had dreamed in years. I woke up shortly afterward. Having surmised that this was my "wet dream factory" shutting off as usual, I defiantly took double the zinc as well as the aphrodisiac L-Carnitine. I then had the following dream: I was on a couch, and I had deflatulated (that is... "farted") several times. I looked up. To my embarrassment, I was at a party -- not unlike those that highschoolers would have -- and they criticized me, in response to which I yelled in confession that I had farted. I then pulled aside a pretty, youngish-looking Asian girl with brown hair and tan skin to tell her how attractive I thought she was. Soon after, I heard a trio of girls sing the most *beautiful* melody: *And you definitely, definitely, definitely* *Need to have sex* I spent all weekend with the Vocaloid speech synthesizer recreating the lyrics. What's attached is the result of my extreme effort to faithfully and accurately reproduce exactly what I heard. Despite that, it was not a wet dream. It represented my effort as a virgin to have one, and yet fail at doing so. As a sufferer of severe autoimmune disease, my body loses zinc eight times faster than normal. Stuffing myself with tens of times the recommended amount is the only way I can keep it at normal levels. It may be that this zinc-induced "singing dream" was the outcome of my struggle against what affects all us Incels: our alleged "need" for sex. It could explain everything, from the heartbreak nightmare, to my autoimmune disease, to the tailgaters, to the deafening truck horn dream immediately preceding it. Something about nature -- something *sexually selective* -- was mad that I had taken zinc, and it defiantly rubbed in my face the cause of my misery. It was like the dream I had when I was 30, wherein Jesus (though I am not a Christian) told me: "Sexual engagement. Your life is centered around it. Without sex, you're just, *HEEH-heh* !" Or the dream I had when I was 24, when I heard (to the tune of "We Are the Champions"): *Nobody loves you* *Nobody loves you* *You have a heart* *And a pain of your own* To be fair, sex *may not* be a need. I don't experience *constant* pain, and on occasion I even experience heights of pleasure. But there is still an enduring, bitter nausea, and a sting of seeing other couples experience what we never get to have. Dreams like this one, about the girls singing, must be taken as evidence that we Incels are an oppressed class. Those who hate us may be denying us a physical need, without whose fulfillment we are forced to suffer. Those of us who survive as virgins into our 40s discover, with every passing year, just how critical such a need may be. #Incel #Incels #Inceldom