It was one of those dreams that began with only momentary confusion and disorientation
until I was suddenly filled with the knowledge of who my dream-self was, and where I
was. An entire life blinked into existence in a dream world, a feeling uncannily
similar to when I first wake up in the morning in the non-dreaming one.
I smiled and turned in the white down bed, under the down covers of the four post bed.
The morning sun from the large bay windows of the high rise slowly moved across the
beautiful wood floors to gently kiss us. I murmured contentedly and nuzzled up next to
him. He stirred slightly in his sleep, waking partially to run his hand along my back
and shoulder. He woke a bit more, turning to his nightstand to check the time. He
sighed and rolled back over to me, gently taking my head in his hand and kissing me on
the forehead. I murmured again and stretched like a cat. He ran his hands over the
front of my body as I did so, and I knew it was because my morning stretch always
aroused him. I could feel him harden as he bent over me to touch me, brushing me
softly and arousing me as well. I smiled and let out a soft hum of happiness. He
sighed, kissed me on the chest, and rolled off to the side of the bed.
I knew he had to fly out this morning, and was only a little sad to see him go. I took
time off when he came to town, and always had plenty to catch up on when he left. I
was free to live where I wanted to, free to move if work asked me to or if I just
wanted to find something new. I was even free to live in one of his places. And I had
visited them over the years, traveling all over the world. No matter where I was he
would come to me. Wherever I was was his home. He loved me, lusted for me, yearned for
me, missed me.
And I was beautiful.
In this dream something unusual was occurring. I was not dreaming of being anyone but
myself. I was not in a new body, I was not a different person. I had no special powers
or abilities. I was exactly who I was in the waking world, and he loved every inch of
me for it. And it made me feel beautiful, powerful, and happy.
He kissed me, sweetly, gently, but with conviction, in front of the giant bay window
of the bedroom as his driver loaded the car below. I could feel him getting hard as we
pressed together, his body begging him for mine. He was older than me, fairly well-off
and well-known. Some might even consider what we had slightly scandalous. We liked to
keep our displays of affection private for many reasons. He was a known lifelong
bachelor that kept to himself, constantly turning down advances, but politely
accepting dinner dates to entertain and accompany female friends at important events.
His presence with both long time and new female friends was viewed favorably by all.
We kept nothing from each other, and he only ever had eyes for me. I didn't mind that
only our closest friends knew about us. I wasn't looking for fame or glory... just...
him. He had pursued me, I knew. My dream, however, never enlightened me to the
circumstances of the courting. Regardless of his playboy appearance, I knew without a
doubt that I was his home.
He had told me some time before that he would not hesitate to make our relationship
public if I wanted it. I would be the only one, and the playboy life would be over. I
would be the one on his arm, and at all the events. I only had to say the word. I had
responded by telling him I enjoyed the freedom, and I knew he did too. I told him I
wouldn't ruin something so perfect, our individual happiness when apart and our
combined release and ecstasy when finally, briefly back together. One day we would
settle down, when we both know it is right. The raging fire of how strongly we burned
for each other, the brilliant light we cast as individuals... nothing could be more
perfect.
We burned so bright that day. We were so, so beautiful...
I watched him get in his car. He took one last look up at the bay window and winked at
me. My stomach fluttered watching his face disappear inside the car, my body
shuddering it's own sighs of farewell as it recalled the previous night. The car drove away, and I
flopped myself down on the bed, considering what I wanted to do in the next few
months. I wasn't sold on my current job, but felt this city still had some exciting
things to show me. Maybe I could stop working for a bit, do some artwork and get a
gallery show together? I just got back from traveling, and definitely wanted to stay
in one place for a little bit... I drifted off as I considered my endless
possibilities. The memory of his touch caressed me in the back of my mind, my burning
desire for him slowing receding into hope and excitement for the adventures of my own
life... I was so happy, I was so beautiful, and I was myself...
My dream faded into wakefulness in the real world. I shuddered under the covers. He
always kept the room so cold... I opened my eyes, though I knew I didn't need to. The
bed was empty, the clock on his side reading a little after six in the morning. I
could see the line of sunlight barely bleeding through the edges of the thick, black
cloth blocking out the windows. It cast enough light in the dingy room to make out his
cheap, broken furniture, stained, stinking dirty clothes, mounds of trash next to
unopened packages of clothes I had bought for him, and the thick layer of dust on top
of it all. I felt disgusted at the familiar sight and closed my eyes. My ears began to
work, and I could hear the sound of a video clip from his computer playing in the
other room, accompanied by the sickeningly familiar sound of a beer can being crushed.
He had not yet been to bed. I shifted, feeling the tight grip of gravity on
my stiff body and the pain shooting up my feet and spine from the long hours and long years
of manual labor jobs.
Tears ran down my face as my dream came flooding back. I began to sob uncontrollably as I awoke
fully, aware of who I was, where I was, in pain, alone, and ugly.
And I was never beautiful again.
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