“It was just a dream,” he muttered, coughing lightly to relieve his constricted throat from water that wasn’t there. “Another fucking nightmare…”
He put his feet over the edge of the bed and down to the cool floor, then sat straight up and took several deep breaths. Several nights ago, he had dreamed he was in a terrible, blood-filled battle being fought with ancient weapons – swords and shields, knives, spears. Everyone around him was dying, being brutally, savagely butchered. A week earlier, he had dreamed of a lover’s tryst
– not a nightmare that time, except that he had been the girl in that odd dream.
Rising from the bed, Jake stumbled to the bathroom and pulled the light string, then squinted in the garish light coming down from the ceiling. Turning on the faucet, he rinsed his face and neck, then dried off and went back to bed. He smiled as he observed the gentle curve of female hips beneath the covers on the other side of the bed.
Her name was Monica – a big-chested natural redhead that had moved in with him several weeks ago after being kicked out by her last boyfriend. She was sweet enough, and her boyfriend was a user. Jake didn’t love her, and she didn’t love him, but they could share their bodies with each other and shared a semblance of companionship.
Monica was easy to talk to and Jake talked to her a lot, including telling her about losing the only woman he ever loved. He left out important parts, like the car bomb and the fact that she had been a flying vampire. In return, he listened to Monica tell him about her childhood and her brother who repeated raped her, and a drunken parent who had permitted it all. She had finally been sent to a home for juveniles for putting her dear brother in a coma. After that, none of her family wanted anything to do with her.
By the time she’d moved in with Jake, she’d given up on finding love, and happily settled in with him, more than satisfied with the warm friendship she found with him.
As Jake came back into the bedroom and sat down, his mind began functioning more normally. Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day – Frank and Tanya’s second anniversary. They were married two years ago on February 12, 1995.
‘I should send them a card,’ he thought to himself. ‘I should get something for Monica.’
Then he realized it was already too late. Today was tomorrow. It was already the twelfth, for several hours, now.
When he sat back down on the bed, Monica stirred beside him.
“You’re awake,” she murmured. “Bad dream?”
“Yeah,” Jake muttered. He sighed, knowing she would want him to tell her about it.
“Where’d you go this time?” she wanted to know.
Monica was a part-time student at the local college and was studying ancient civilizations and mythology. If Jake went into enough description, she could tell him where he was in his dreams. She believed that people actually traveled in dreams, and Jake, right now, was her favorite subject. His dreams were incredibly vivid, and (even better), he usually remembered them.
“I don’t know.” Jake sighed. “A village. There were sheep, a mountain and a river.
“She was there,” he continued. “Her name was Nikka, this time. She was a sheepherder. She was having trouble with an ex-soldier name Hymi. He tried to sacrifice her to the river god.”
“Wow!” Monica said, fully awake and much more cheerful. “The stuff of legends. Who else was in it? Anyone named Chloe?”
“No,” Jake smiled at her enthusiasm, “but there was a ‘Sybille’ and a ‘Diana’ in it.”
“Well,” Monica said, putting her brain into gear, “Diana was a Roman goddess – the ‘huntress’. But the only Sybille I can think of is a ‘Cybele’, who had a daughter named ‘Nicaea’. Nicaea was only half-mortal because her father was a river god, but there was this guy – a shepherd named Hymnus who pestered her so ardently that she shot him with an arrow. But that was long before Roman times.”
“An arrow!” Jake exclaimed. “Of course! That’s what was sticking out of Hymi’s chest! It was an arrow! Somebody shot him and saved me… I mean… saved Nikka(!) from being sacrificed to Sangar.”
“Sangar?” Monica asked, sounding surprised. “You mean Sangarius, the river god? My God! That WAS it! You dreamed about the legend of Nicaea, the half-human daughter of Sangarius and Cybele! That means it really happened! But, the way you tell it, Nicaea didn’t shoot Hymnus.”
“No,” Jake replied. “I don’t think so. I was… I mean, she was… being drowned at the time.”
“Jake,” Monica asked earnestly, “you do believe, don’t you? My theory about dreams being real events?”
“Moni,” Jake sighed, “let me ask you this: Do you think it’s possible for one person’s memories to be transferred into another person’s mind?”
“I sat and watched that weird ‘Search for Spock’ thing with you on HBO the other night, Jake,” Monica grinned. “It was an… interesting premise.” She sighed. “Yeah, I suppose it’s possible.”
“I was in the fire, trying to get the car door open. It wouldn’t budge and I could see her burning,” Jake said, his voice reverent, now. “When she noticed I was there, she was frightened for me. She didn’t even seem to care that she was on fire – she just screamed for me to get out – to save myself.”
Monica sat and blinked back tears. She’d heard the story before, but it affected her every time she was reminded of it. It would be a terrible thing to watch someone you loved die – especially in the manner that Jake’s love had been taken from him.
In some fashion, his pain resonated in tune with hers, and made it comfortable for her to be with him. The odd resonance between them seemed to affect him the same way. They comforted each other. It was a good thing.
“So you think it’s real, as well,” Monica said quietly, “but for a different reason, I suppose.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “I think it’s real. I once suggested to her that if we could write down everything she remembered, we’d have an entire first-hand account of human history.”
“Whoa!” Monica said anxious and surprised at his words. “An entire what? Who was this girl, anyway? Some sort of mythological goddess? People don’t live thousands of years except in their dreams!”
It was easier for Jake to let Monica believe what she would, so he said, “No, she was just a dreamer, like me. Only I think she passed her dreams on to me when she died – so that I’d remember, you know?”
“You’re weirder than I am,” Monica told him. Then, changing the subject, “So long as you believe these dreams are real, do you think you could go back into the one you had tonight? Maybe… find out who really shot Hymnus?”
Jake chuckled and hugged the anxious redhead, pulling her down flat on the bed. “No, not until I feel sleepy, again. Do you have any remedies for insomnia?”
It was an old joke between them (several weeks old, anyway) that her remedy for lack of sleep (and just about any other ailment) was a good old-fashioned tumble in the hay. She was ‘on the pill’, so there were only five days a month when she wouldn’t tumble and this wasn’t one of them.
Monica reached down between them and between his legs. Her hands felt cool down there.
“You aren’t the least bit horny,” she said, sounding disappointed. “But I can probably change that.”
“Yeah, you probably could,” Jake admitted. “But, why don’t I work on you for awhile this time. It’s been awhile since you’ve had a good rubdown.”
Monica gave him a quick peck on the cheek and eagerly slithered down onto the sheets, face down. Jake reached out and began to massage her shoulders.
“Mmmm! That feels good,” Monica moaned quietly.
Jake kneaded her shoulders and back muscles for a few minutes, occasionally being rewarded with a sigh or a groan of quiet pleasure. He spent some time on her lower back – she moaned a lot more when he did that, so he figured she liked it, then he began working on those smooth, sexy muscles that made up her rump.
As he worked his fingers along Monica’s tail bone and ass cheeks, she began to get a little playful; arching her back and sticking her butt up a little bit, then wriggling it. Jake took the hint and worked down a little further until he was at the top of her thighs.
He massaged the backs of Monica’s thighs, slowly moving from the outside to the inside, then had her spread her legs a little so he could massage those smooth, tight muscles running up the insides of her legs. She was deliberately teasing him, now, raising her rump and wagging it as he rubbed her legs.
On the next stroke up her inner thighs, he didn’t stop at the top of her legs, but gently rammed his fingers right up into her vulva. Monica yelped, not expecting such a solid encounter, but she gamely pushed down on his fingers as he tried to shove them up inside her. He managed, but her pussy lips were pulled inside and flipped backwards against his fingers. Every time he moved, she hurt.
“Bastard!” she said, mostly to herself.
Jake waited while she shoved both her hands down between her hips and the sheets to help spread her pussy wide enough to rescue her tender tissue. Once she was satisfied that everything was where it was supposed to be, she wiggled her rump again, letting him know he could go ahead and play.
Pulling one hand free, Jake reached for a tube of cream that she used because of constant skin irritation that seemed to occur down there. Squishing some on his fingers, he rubbed the cool cream into her fleshy pussy lips.
“Nice,” she murmured, enjoying the fact that he didn’t deliberately mistreat her tender flesh as much as her last boyfriend did.
With that medicated cream in Monica’s pussy, Jake didn’t really want to stick his tongue in there, now, but he worked his fingers in and out and chewed on her sweet butt-cheeks for awhile. It was a pleasant diversion and they both enjoyed it.
After a few minutes, she became wetter inside, and Jake realized she’d had an orgasm. The smell of her sex and the feel of her smooth butt was stimulating him and making him hard. When she came, there was a subtle change in her scent, and that aroused him. Rubbing a bit of the medicated cream on his hard-on, Jake kneeled behind Monica and, pulling up on her rump, pushed inside her. She moaned again in pleasure, then laid there and enjoyed it while he humped in and out.
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