What your fantasies really mean (and what they don’t)

Our sexual imagination can take us to places we’d never want to visit in real life. So why do we sometimes feel so ashamed of the things we think about?

There is something strangely unsettling about discovering that your mind can take you somewhere your real-life self would never choose to go.

Perhaps you’ve fantasised about an experience you would have no interest in trying. Maybe you’ve imagined someone who isn’t your usual type, a scenario that doesn’t fit your relationship, or something that seems completely at odds with your values. For many people, the immediate reaction isn’t curiosity. It’s: What does this say about me?

According to sexologist and relationship psychotherapist Becky Crepsley Fox, the answer may be: much less than you think.

“One of the things I talk a lot about in my practice is the difference between fantasy and desire,” she says. “Conflating the two is where most of the shame and confusion creeps in.”

Fantasy isn’t the same as wanting something

It sounds obvious, but it is a distinction many of us don’t make. Desire involves a genuine wish to experience something in real life. Fantasy is different: it is something you enjoy imagining, without necessarily wanting it to happen. Then there is intention — something you plan or hope to do — and action, which is simply doing it.

The distinction matters because our sexual imaginations are not instruction manuals. A fantasy doesn’t automatically represent an ambition, a hidden wish or a behaviour waiting to emerge.

“Many people, usually women, have fantasies about sexual acts and experiences they’d never want to replicate in real life,” says Fox.

Being intrigued, excited or aroused by an idea doesn’t necessarily mean you want that idea translated into reality. The mind is capable of holding contradictory things at once: this is exciting to imagine and I would never want this to happen to me can both be true.

Why does the brain dream up such strange scenarios?

Part of the answer lies in novelty. “The human brain is wired for novelty,” explains Fox, “which is why so many people find their fantasy life full of unusual scenarios — that’s exactly what the brain finds interesting.”

Fantasy gives us a place to experiment without consequences. Within the safety of our own minds, we can explore power, surrender, control, risk, taboo or unfamiliarity without actually putting ourselves in danger.

It can also allow us to imagine things that simply aren’t possible in ordinary life. Think of the classic tentacle fantasy. Very few people genuinely want to date or have sex with an octopus, yet the fantasy can still be sexually compelling. The point isn’t necessarily the literal scenario. It may be the strangeness, the intensity, the sense of novelty or simply the pleasure of imagining something outside ordinary life.

“The same logic applies to fantasies that don’t align with someone’s actual sexual orientation,” says Fox. “This is all very common and normal.”

Our imagination doesn’t have to obey the same rules as our real-world preferences.

Why are we so ashamed of our fantasies?

If fantasies are so common, why do they make so many of us feel uncomfortable? One reason is that we rarely talk about them honestly.

“Fantasies are rarely talked about openly, so we assume we’re the only ones having them,” says Fox.

There is also a powerful human tendency to search for meaning. If a particular thought keeps appearing, we naturally want to know why. But Fox encourages clients to resist the urge to decode every fantasy.

“If someone says to me, ‘If I fantasised about it, what does that say about me?’ — I encourage them to stop searching for an answer,” she says.

Sometimes there is an obvious explanation. Often there isn’t. “Liking a certain fantasy doesn’t say anything about you — it’s entertainment,” she says. “You probably couldn’t fully explain why you love a certain genre of music or film either. It’s the same thing. We just do.”

When it doesn’t feel like a fantasy

There is, however, an important distinction between a sexual fantasy and an intrusive thought. Fox’s rule of thumb is to consider how the thought behaves and how it feels.

“If a thought pops into your head often — especially outside sexually relevant moments — and you find it hard to think about anything else, with a sense that you have no control over it, that points to intrusive thinking,” she says.

A sexual fantasy, by contrast, is generally something we engage with willingly and that produces some sense of excitement, even if shame appears afterwards. An intrusive thought tends to feel unwanted and distressing from the moment it arrives.

Understanding that difference can prevent us from mistaking an unwanted thought for a secret desire.

You don’t have to understand every fantasy

The brain is imaginative. It looks for novelty, plays with scenarios and creates stories. Some are romantic, some strange, some thrilling and some deeply at odds with what we’d ever choose in real life. That doesn’t make you contradictory. It makes you human.

As Fox puts it: “Liking a certain fantasy doesn’t say anything about you — it’s entertainment.”

So the next time your imagination takes you somewhere unexpected, you don’t necessarily need to panic, analyse it or explain it away.

You can simply notice it, enjoy it — or let it pass — and remember that what happens in your imagination isn’t a command for what happens in your life.

Words: Lucy Rawlinson, Images: Shutterstock