I have just had the most amazing dream, so I'll be doing this a little differently than normal.
Usually I talk about a dream after the text of it, but I'm going to preface it in advance so that I do not interrupt the flow of it and it reads more like a book passage than my usual ramblings.
The boy in this dream abruptly changed appearance, but this went unnoticed in lala dream land. He started out looking like that Akira guy from Eden of the East and ended up with white hair.
both of the links I have to these images indicates that they do not belong to the people who posted them - so sorry, no credit source :C I have no idea where these originally came from.
I've been asked before if because I like anime so much, if my dreams are ever animated.
Usually, when a cartoon character appears in my dreams, it is like a soft 3D model, with bright colors and proportions (eyes, etc) unlike real life. However, they look very realistic, despite the high saturation of their colors.
So rather than this boy looking like a bright, 2D cartoon, he was a living, breathing thing with realistic shadows and physical movement.
So I will write this out now C: I still left in whatever parts do not make sense in reality. Telling it like is was.
Also, sorry about any tense inconsistencies. I tend to revert to present tense without thinking about it. I tried to correct most of it.
It was the future, but you would not even know it.
Everything was the same, only older. I lived in a town so horribly like that of the twenty-first century. The only defining difference was our entertainment.
People traveled by lit motorcycles like something straight out of Tron Legacy and people could wear whatever they wanted, or nothing at all if they so chose.
Movie theatres as they were known were no longer in existence. Their replacement: a completely immersive experience that played more like a video game, with programmed characters that would sometimes even be able to directly interact with the audience with AI, and a screen shaped like a half-dome to cover your entire peripheral vision. Not only were the images in 3D, but no glasses are required - it's as if you're actually sitting in the middle of the movie, complete with heat, wind gushes, scents...everything.
The best part? Screenings for you and whoever you brought with you only. No more assholes texting during the movie, that one guy who laughs really loud at scenes that aren't even that funny, that one whore who put on too much perfume after work, or any of the others.
The holidays were near, so I was just finishing decoration on a large cedar tree. I had lovingly strung lights all around this 50-foot monster, and was just connecting the electricity. I literally tried to turn the lights on with my mind, but of course, it didn't work. But one plug later, the entire tree came to life, sparkling in the night like hundreds of multicolored stars, from gold to red to lavender and back again.
The next day. I was in high school, maybe a junior or a senior. It was at a relaxing day at the school's pool, just unwinding after class, when I first saw him. The class clown, the class idiot. Bellyflopping around in the pool like a twit for attention.
At first, not only did I feel nothing towards him, I sat and pondered about what makes a child such a glutton for attention. Parents that do not pay enough attention? But perhaps we all need different levels of attention to feel complete. I myself was a latch-key kid, and when my parents finally started having time to spend with me, I still holed up in my room. I do not seek attention, but do not shy from it.
But look at this dumbass. Splashing everyone. And they all liked it. What the hell.
He climbed from the water and passed me with a smile. I just stared at him.
I suddenly decided that nothing was left for me to learn in the world, at all. "This is it," I said. "All the knowledge in the world is already in my head." I stood, gathered my things, and began my slow journey of stepping over sunbathers to go change. "I'll take my full head elsewhere."
I realized how vain this sounded, but I didn't care. I just no longer had any wish to think hard on anything, having deemed all the important things to know already within me.
I was taken aback at how quickly this class clown came into my life. A few stray touches here and there, little quiet questions and beautiful, wondering eyes, and before long, I had already said yes to dating him.
It played out like a bad, bad version of a modern Romeo and Juliet. Here we were, happy in young love, unsure and almost afraid of each other. I had never really dated before, neither had he. My breasts were soft and foreign to his shy fingers, and his wide shoulders and deep voice left me strung out on pumps of adrenaline.
We continued in secret, unsure of where all this devotion and passion would get us.
"Hurt," he would say. We both knew it.
"My parents are crazy," he would warn. "I don't want them to know about this."
He took me to a movie.
Seated on a white park bench in the middle of a starry, dreamy fantasy film, we leaned against each other, tired. It was a school night, already pressing eleven. I had to be up at seven for school. But I determined that this was worth it. I might even skip class the next day.
Without any words, he leaned himself over me on the bench. My heartbeat fluttered. His eyes drew mine in.
His teeth pressed into my throat in a surprisingly rough bite. Then, he nipped at my ears, behind them, on the lobes, beneath them. His hands held fast to my shoulders as he drowned himself in arousal, and I did the same. I felt my body move against him as my insides melted with lust.
More teeth, more teeth. He moaned, settling down over me completely.
A part of me wanted to tell him to stop, because at any moment the characters in this movie may want to have a chat. But it was such a small, small part.
His mouth was hot, like heaven.
Without much time at all, like a whirlwind, love causes much damage.
Our relationship grew by the day. Countless time passed, and we still shared our secret of each other. Our parents were equally unaware.
One day, just before sunset, he begged me to come over.
"In daylight?" I asked, taken aback.
"I can't keep this a secret anymore."
I could not have agreed more.
Thrilled by the thought of liberation from this suppressed hell, I ran to him. I wanted to love him openly, so much that it hurt. Keeping it under wraps was tearing us both apart.
So I went to him. He let me in the back and led me to the attic, with an attached balcony, and I could tell something was very wrong.
He was wearing no shirt, with plain pale jeans. Across his chest were strips of thin white cloth, like a makeshift bandage.
His eyes were cold.
He handed me a wide, flat brush dipped in red paint and told me to color his arms.
"What's going on?" I asked, fear in my voice.
He did not respond, and merely waited for me to begin.
I dragged the soft bristles over his skin, trailing the red over the little hairs on his arms. I got lost in the task, stroking in smooth swipes, covering his tone completely with the burst of scarlet.
I felt like I was doing something intimate. His inhales were slow.
I was suddenly aware that in one clenched first he was holding his phone when the flash lit up the darkening space between us as the sun left us bereft.
My eyes dilated sharply, painfully, but I did not move.
"What was that for?"
His smile was sad. "I want to remember you as you are. Not crying."
I frowned. "Crying?"
I covered his knuckles in the paint, and he dropped the phone. Before I could finish my work, he pulled me into a strong, sudden embraced that knocked the lungfull of air right out of my chest.
He leaned his soft lips to my ear, whispering heatedly, slowly, purposefully, "Right here. Right now."
My blood ran hot as my heart constricted tightly in my chest. With every pump, a new squeeze of pain. I gasped, dizzying.
I repeated, frightened, "What is going on?!"
But I could not fight off the rush of arousal. Of the blood rushing to the skin beneath my hips.
More teeth, perfect and rough. He sighed in longing. The red of his arms rubbed onto my white jacket, staining it red everywhere he held me.
The door beside us flung open.
There was much shouting as he attempted to fight off his father. I wanted to help, to do something, but I was powerless to stop two grown adults from punching the living hell out of each other.
With one last look to me, he said, "I love you."
He ran past me, leaving both me and his opponent lost and confused. He dashed through a door to the edge of the balcony that lay just outside this tiny little room, and I understood.
This tiny little attic was where he was forced to live.
By parents, he meant father. And his father not only did not pay attention to him, he loathed him.
And he had found me, a light in his dark world, but without this light, he was determined to die.
With the bandages fluttering around him like wings, he fell.
I understood the meaning of 'red'.
Red blood, like life. Red, like passion, lust, craving, wanting, delirium, desire. Red, like heartbreak, and anger.
When I screamed in agony, that was red, too.
I followed his footsteps while his father had no time to react. Over the edge, I was flying. Flying down to his broken form.
Or so I thought.
I landed, but it was not as painful as jumping off a second story might feel. I was numb. And he was smiling at me.
As soon as we were sure his father had reentered the house, we ran. He picked me up from the ground by the hand, and we ran.
The next day, the bodies are reported missing. My mother was openly desperate to find my remains, while his father openly did not bother to care.
We were free.
Did we survive the fall? Were we alive, or ghosts?
How did two people who did not know each other for long enough to constitute love to feel it so completely?
I don't know, but sometimes I'm treated to wonderful dreams by my head. :D
I especially enjoy dreams with that sexual edge, Umf umf.
Notes:
I used to live in a house with a giant cedar tree in the front yard.
This year I've hated the thought of Christmas. Lots of loss and sadness in this apartment, between me and Jerry. Maybe I still really wanted to enjoy the holidays despite it all, so I decorated a tree in my sleep? Who knows.
I did not enjoy Eden of the East, I felt like it had so much damn potential but so much was left out / inconclusive. They needed to make that shit longer than 12 fucking episodes.
Also, maybe TMI, but I got my period yesterday on Christmas Eve. I kinda wonder if that played a part in the red theme of the dream. Oooookay. XD
All in all, this dream had the perfect mix of fear and arousal. Such a wonderful combination. /__\
Okay, off the open presents. tataaaa.
Ate McDonalds right before bed. Large fries and a chicken sammich. Slept for... maybe seven hours.
