Page 5 of The Nightmare King

“None of this… it’s all too good. I know I’ll wake up?—”

Swirls of violet, mirroring the shade of his deep stare swirled around us as he picked me up and put me on the bar counter. He separated my legs with his wide body and grabbed my chin. “Stop worrying, Lilac. Feel me, enjoy me.”

He pulled up my skirt before placing his pirate hat on my head and disappearing under my dress. I moaned at the feel of his mouth on my center, looking around the bar, but we were shrouded in smoke, and no one paid us any mind. “Such anxiety plagues you, oh, sleeper. Can’t you not even be free in your dreams?”

His tongue swept against my clit, making me groan at the wet feel of him. “God, you feel so real.”

“And you taste like the finest of wines,” he murmured against my center. “Perhaps the seaside vexes you,” he mused, pushing me to the top of my release. “Tomorrow, I shall find us a better spot.”

My moan was silenced by screams, as shots rang out. My body tightened and fluttered against the aftershocks of my orgasm as my lover stood, planting a slick kiss on my lips. The bartender pulled out a shotgun, firing at the doorway as patrons screamed. My nightmare’s violet eyes lingered for a moment on mine, as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. “I must go.”

Chairs clattered to the ground as the shrieking persisted. The nightmare portion of the dream was here, the scary parts, the frightening end.

He made to pull back, but I grabbed onto his vest, and he stopped, just as I felt myself slipping away. “Let me stay with you?”

I’d never asked that before.

Something flashed across his stare, and his jaw hardened. With a sigh, he planted a small kiss on my cheek and whispered. “Away with you.”

Chapter

Three

AWAKE

I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?

John Lennon

Iforced my eyes closed, refusing to open them, and coercing myself back into a slumber of nothingness. Rest, biological, mundane. It was too short, too quick. I could still feel the pricking of the corset against my waist, the sticky floor on my feet. The feeling of his violet eyes roaming my body and his tongue swiping against my bare skin. How I wished to roll over and see him in bed beside me.

He'd never been a pirate before, though, it suited him. He was always dramatically vague, swashbuckling his way through my pleasure and pain.

My therapist should know about him, about this. I’d googled it, already, and read all about delusions. If Sam knew, she would wrinkle her forehead to fight the tears, fumbling through the realization that her baby sister was losing her mind—truly—losing grip on reality. While my therapist and doctors would… I don’t know what they’d do. No, I couldn’t tell them. And what harm was this odd fantasy adventure? So maybe I was dreaming, but it gave me a reason to get through the day if only a longing for the night. For a chance to see him again. A pirate, a pumpkin phantom, a regular guy—whatever adornments, whatever setting shift, it was always him and me.

My fixation, my mirage, my dark shadow man.

Doctor Truman yawned and scratched his grey beard. “I apologize, I didn’t rest well last night. Speaking of—how is your sleep, Lucy?”

The question was cold water splashed on my face and I fumbled over my words, watching the clock as I did. “Normal, totally fine and normal. Why?”

“Your medications can interfere with sleep. Lack of rest can make your symptoms worse. You said you’re having more average days lately, that makes me hopeful we’re on the right path with your prescriptions and the EMDR.”

I fidgeted with the corner of a pillow on the therapy couch. “Could the medicine be making… dreams more vivid?”

The doctor paused the tapping of his pen. “It could. Why? Are you experiencing vivid dreams?”

I swallowed, my mouth feeling dry. My headphones vibrated music I wished I was listening too against its resting spot around my neck. I shouldn’t tell him, but something inside me wanted to tell someone. “What if… is it normal to see the same person in your dreams over and over?”

“For how long have you been experiencing this?”

“Three months or so.”

“Right around the…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Introduction of your medication.” Dr. Truman scribbled something on his notepad. “Perhaps it is someone or something you have unresolved issues with. May I ask who or what you’re seeing in these dreams?”

“No one real, I mean, no one that I know in real life…” Hearing the words tumble from my mouth, I knew I sounded like an idiot. But Dr. Truman looked at me like an insane person anyway, so why not lean into his assessment? “Is that normal?”

“Lucy, dreams, nightmares, they have no meaning. Not in a therapeutic sense. What you’re experiencing is a random firing of the neurons in your brain. Electrical brain impulses pull from memories, past experiences, or things you’ve watched on television or seen in passing. I wouldn’t think on it, it means nothing.” He chuckled before adding, “For example, my nightmare last night was directly related to work stress, coupled with watching Star Wars before bed. I do not believe there’s any further meaning to feeling my spaceship was under attack from an evil empire.”

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