“Are you fucking kidding me?” The exact moment my hands hit his bed, my dog jumped onto mine shocking me back to my less pleasing world.
Alone, again, and still tired. I’ve tried it all. Staying awake, sleeping in different positions, in different rooms, even in my car. But no matter how, or where I fall asleep he is there. Always.
There has never been a time, or a man, that could make me feel what I feel when he is in my arms. Sad actually considering physically speaking, I’ve never actually held him.
In a fit of desperate frustration I grabbed my laptop and began a journal of our dream state rendezvous. As I read over the words that flowed through my fingertips onto the blank white screen, a new thought sidelined me. What if he was real, and I was merely being manipulated?
Having studied the mystical beliefs of many cultures in the past, I was almost ashamed that the thought of dream walking hadn’t occurred to me before. Almost every culture outside of christianity has a myth or a legend about those with the ability to invade another’s dreams. He could be no more than a supernatural stalker, and even if he were I’d still love him.
Astral projection, the power is at the heart of all out-of-body experiences. Using it to enter someone elses dreams is not unheard of, just hard to believe. So, I thought to my self, how do I know if he is a dream, or a dream walker?
The project obsessively overtook every non-employed minute of my time. As soon as I got off my 9-5 job, I would rush home to my books, articles, essays, and internet searches. Every time I felt my eyes get heavy I’d brew a cup of coffee, and dive into what another culture had to say.
Wiccans, druids, natives, gypsies, all provided a similar, but tweaked with difference, picture about moving through plains of reality, and entering the dream-scape of another’s mind.
The obsession with knowledge made staying awake easier, my heart stopped hurting and began longing. Instead of being upset that he wasn’t real, I began to miss the few moments we had shared even if they were only in my dreams. And, this new idea of him being of flesh and blood only made the longing worse.
Two weeks, I managed to resist slumber’s call. I recorded two full normal life weeks before my body began to send me signals that my allotted dream free time had expired.
I almost fell asleep behind the wheel driving home from work, when his voice echoed in my head “No, not yet, wake up!”
I managed to get safely to my driveway, before beginning to nod off again, and I heard, “It’s cold outside. Go in the house my love, then come to bed.”
I don’t remember the walk to my door, through my house, or even up my stairs. I do remember the relief of my tired feet as I kicked off my shoes, and the warm fuzzy feel of my blanket as I pulled it over my tired body.
I believe I even let out a sigh of “yes”, as I snuggled into my pillow like a child into the chest of a parent. The already dark room got darker, and in less time than I could measure, faded to blackness.
Suddenly, I was back outside, fiddling with my keys to unlock the door. Rain soaked and shivering I kicked my shoes of in the foyer, and relocked the door behind me.
Turning down the hall toward the kitchen, I had the distinct feeling I was being watched, or worse followed.
As I stepped into the kitchen, but before I could reach the counter to put down my keys, two hands grabbed me and threw me back into the refrigerator door. A hand on my throat, a rock solid body pressed against me, my first instinct was to fight. With fist in a ball, I swung only to have my wrist caught and pinned behind me.
It was only then your sexy as hell baritone voice rang out gruff and annoyed. “Where the hell have you been?”
Freeing the hand behind me, your grip tightened against my throat with the other. As I gasped for a breath you took my mouth with a strong dominating kiss, and your free hand began un-fastening my pants. You released my throat as the kiss changed from savage to sweet, and it too was release when my pants were completely undone.
Breathless, and trembling I playfully asked, “So, you missed me then?”
“Missed you? I’ll show you, I much more than missed you.”
Both hands now at my hips, you hooked your thumbs in my waistband, taking a loose grip of both my newly opened pants and the light purple thong beneath them. With a fluid motion you knelt in front of me pulling downward on my attire until it and you were on the floor.
Still backed against the refrigerator, naked below the waist, I pondered what deviance you had in store for me. Remaining on your knees, you wrapped your hands around my hips and slid them upward, bunching my shirt just below my breasts. Pressing you face against my stomach you held me there nuzzling at my belly button.
“I wondered if you were ever coming back.” you admitted in an odd but tender manner.
Wow, what? I thought as the face at my stomach added kisses to the nuzzling and began to slowly move southward.
“I have to sleep sometime.” popped out of my mouth before I could think. My conscious endeavours had snuck themselves into my dream world. My mind began to rationalize my next move.
If you were only a dream man, no more, no less, your response should probably be a playful banter about keeping me up all night. Although, I you were a dream stalker, you’d be on to my realization. My mind went blank soon there after as the words, “I hear you, but I’d rather taste you” left your lips.
(to be continued in part 4)