Biology, But Make It a Dream

I had a dream the other day.
It was about the moment of falling in love. Not the slow, logical, reasonable kind—no. One second you’re fine and the next, BOOM, love hits you like a truck.

Or maybe not a truck.
Maybe more like a sunrise.

When the world is still dark and the sky begins painting itself little by little. First a soft blue, then hints of pink, then orange, then gold… and before you realize it, everything around you is glowing, burning. And you feel it too—the warmth inside you rising, slowly, quietly, until it wraps around your chest.

Now imagine all of that happening inside you in two seconds.

That instant where the world changes color.
Where the air smells sweeter.
Where your senses go numb and everything feels like silk under your fingertips.
Where the only music you hear comes from one person’s voice.

This man was trying to reach me, to win my heart, by showing me—over and over—how much he genuinely cared. I liked it all: his way of talking and laughing, his humor, his masculine hands yet how soft and long they were, the way he carried himself. But I wasn’t rejecting him because I didn’t like him—I was scared.

He was younger, and that terrified me. Having my heart broken again with false expectations petrified me. So I denied myself the very feeling I secretly wanted to drown in.

Up until that moment, I had tried with all the strength in my body to avoid any physical touch. But he ignored the distance I had carefully built between us and leaned in to kiss the back of my neck while my back was turned.

The goosebumps rushed through my body, wiping out all the anxiety I had been holding in and replacing it with the love I had been trying to contain. Warmth filled every millimeter of me and consumed me whole. The world stopped—and then began again, melting into a softer, warmer version of itself.

And his lips, resting on my skin, were the center of it all.

For days, I replayed that dream. It left me with a bittersweet feeling. Why can’t I find someone like that? I want to let myself feel those feelings again—not just in a dream. That moment of allowing myself to feel and crave.

Related to this, just today I was talking with my friends about how sex affects us women emotionally, and the conversation took a biological turn I wasn’t expecting.

One friend said,
“Women release more oxytocin during sex, and men more dopamine.”

What the Aactual Hell?

Apparently, this is a “we learned this in high school” thing… which was 10+ years ago, so forgive me if I forgot.

So let me break it down the simple ChatGPT way (not sponsored by ChatGPT):

When a woman has intimate sex, her body releases:
• Oxytocin → the bonding hormone
• Prolactin → relaxation & connection
• Dopamine → pleasure & reward

Oxytocin is the key.

It’s the same hormone released when a mother holds her baby.
When we hug someone we love.
When we feel safe.

This is why women’s bodies naturally link intimacy with emotional connection.

In men, something different happens:
• They also release oxytocin, but its emotional effect is weakened by higher testosterone levels.
• They release more dopamine, which reinforces physical pleasure rather than emotional bonding.

And suddenly, everything in my life made sense.

Now, of course, biology isn’t destiny. Not all women feel the same, and not all men love the same way. But biology does explain patterns. And patterns explain why so many of us keep living the same emotional stories on repeat.

Women often fall in love through emotional intimacy, softness, touch, feeling wanted, chemistry. Our bodies literally bind the experience to the person.

Men often fall in love through consistency, respect, shared values, and experiences. Sex doesn’t usually create emotional attachment for them, it only strengthens it if feelings already exist.

This explains so much:
Why women get attached after intimacy.
Why men can separate sex from emotion.
Why we often feel “too much,” and they often feel “too little.”

It even explains the cliché:
“It meant nothing. I love you. With her it was just sex.”

CHEATER! You gross little thing… but biologically believable.

But here’s the part that matters—and the part that brings this full circle:

The Empowering Truth

My dream wasn’t really about a guy. (Yes, he was handsome—but for the sake of education, let’s say it wasn’t about him.)

It was about my body finally allowing itself to feel.
It was about softness.
About connection.
About the kind of vulnerability that happens when you stop fighting your thoughts and trust your gut.

And this brings us to another cliché:

“Women aren’t capable of this or that because they’re too emotional.”

Yes—we are emotional in bed. And what?
Yes—I’m emotional in life. That’s called a menstrual cycle.

Women aren’t “dramatic,” “clingy,” or “too emotional.”
We are wired for connection.
Wired for depth.
Wired to turn touch into meaning and intimacy into color.

And that is not a weakness—it’s our superpower.

Men don’t fall in love the same way, and that’s okay. But I refuse to apologize for the way I feel, love, attach, or dream.

If anything, I’m grateful.

Because that dream reminded me of something I keep forgetting:

Love doesn’t always hit like a truck.
Sometimes it rises, quietly, gently, like a sunrise. And when it does, everything inside you begins to glow again.

My capacity to love deeply? That is a strength, not something to hide or deny.

And maybe that’s why the dream lingered.

Because even in my dreams, I understand this:
He fell in love with me through dedication, presence, and time.
Through showing up. Through consistency. Through effort.

I let myself fall the moment I stopped resisting, with one kiss. With my body finally letting go. With all the weight of everything he had already given before it.

So no, the dream wasn’t random. It was my subconscious connecting the dots.

Even while asleep, we know how love works… isn’t that amazing? And weird…