0 comments/ 18459 views/ 1 favorites Dreammaster Ch. 01 By: rlincn Your eyes begin to twitch and your mind glides from its state of rest into your dreamtime. With a swirl, the world is populated, everyone in motion as though they had always been there. You are in a restaurant, one you know from real life, and the waiter has just left with your orders. You are seated with Roger, a friend you hadn’t seen since college. With your eyes fixed on an older couple ahead and to your left, the two of you are having a non-descript conversation about some project that might take you to Europe. Noises to your right draw quick glances from you, but your focus never really leave the older couple who remind you a bit of your great aunt and uncle, and the Europe conversation, which now involves you somehow taking a train from Atlanta to Glasgow. The noises continue and intensify, then fall silent when you glance down to make a travel note on your napkin. When you look up again, the older couple is gone, replaced by him - Weisshart. With a slight smirk and shake of his head, he mouths the words. "Why do you even try to ignore me?" and the sound comes from your companion. You look back in surprise, and he has become Weisshart. "Whose dream is this?" you ask. “My dream, Gina. You were taking too long to start your own, so I summoned you here.” “What happened to the old couple?” “Anniversary dinner dream – they were about to wake up anyway. And your dinner companion? He was in my way, so I just gave him the freefall feeling & woke him up.” “I really liked him. I wonder what he’s been ...” “Come with me” Weisshart interrupted, then grabbed your hand and swept you from the table ..... .... into a darkened apartment – older, no shades on the windows. You can see across the alleyway into the next building as he walks you to the window. Newspapers rustle as wind blows through a broken pane. “What is it?” you ask. “One window to the left – with the raised blinds.” You fix your eyes on the window and see a young couple – possibly just returned from the theater this evening – dressed in suit and gown, quickly getting shed of their garments. Her red hair flips and swirls about her head as they writhe against one another. His crotch grinds her ass into the kitchen table as she unbuttons his shirt, and he searches for the zipper to her gown. Their faces are a madly intertwined beast – wrestling to see who can kiss and suck and bite more than the other. You see her actually flinch a bit when his teeth close on her earlobe, but coupled with the flinch, she spreads her knees further and drives her pelvis hard against him. You glance over at Weisshart, who smiles softly, never having lost sight of your face, then you turn back to the couple. His shirt stripped off, and pants only loosened, he changes tactics and begins bunching up her gown. She finishes undoing his pants and they fall, leaving only his underwear, from which she fishes his cock. Already angry red and hard, it fills her hand as she takes long strokes up and down. With her dress now up around her hips, he starts to wrestle with her pantyhose, then reconsiders. With one hand, he grabs her face – looking deep into her eyes while seizing her lower lip between his teeth. He reaches back, out of view of the window, and his hand returns with a paring knife. Keeping her attention with his tug on her lip, he takes both hands, and glides the cold handle of the knife along her exposed flesh. Her eyes widen, then he pulls out the waistband of her pantyhose, and begins slowly slitting them, down close to her tufted and trimmed pussy hair. He tosses the knife aside, then rips the remaining hose with his hands, mouth now releasing her lip and once again bathing her face and neck in kisses and nibbles. Even through the window and across the alleyway, you can hear the sounds of the table scooting and banging against the wall, as they thrust more insistently against one another. You hear Wiesshart’s voice again, “Who will it be ...?” It takes you a moment to respond – so enraptured are you by the couple. “Ummm ... David, I think” “David and Maria?” “No ... just David this time.” and in an instant, you are not alone. Weisshart steps back to the shadows, and you feel the hot flesh of David press in behind you - a suddenly naked you. Already, you feel his dream cock hardening against the cheeks of your ass. “Of course,” you think to yourself, “the man must dream of sex almost as much as he thinks of it.” His hands cup your breasts, shielding them from the cold radiating from the window, and his mouth nibbles softly at your ear, teasing it with his breath. The couple across the alley continue their frenzy – he hoists her ass onto the table and she spreads her legs wide, resting a foot on a counter, and the other on the edge of the sink. She pumps insistently at his cock, which looks to be around nine inches. Only her panties stand in the way, but with one hand he pulls them aside as he angles his cock toward her with the other. They must be dripping with fire, because it takes no warmup. He fits his wide head at the opening to her pussy, and drives balls-deep on the first stroke. She hunches her body against him, biting him on the shoulder. He thrusts deep and hard against her as she tries to cover his body in a layer of herself. David moves his cock up to vertical, and humps against your ass, letting his cock slip between your cheeks up to your ass cleft. His hands gently draw your breasts out, then catch at the nipple and his confident fingers roll and twist your nipples into hardness. You reach a hand down and finger your clit, and feel your moisture pouring from you. “Are you ready?” he asks, and you thank god it’s a dream. In real life, it would take many moments of warm up, and much lube before you were ready for David’s cock in your ass. You nod, with a whimper, and his strong hand move to your hips, tilting your pelvis forward and pulling your ass cheeks apart. You reach back in apprehension – even in dreamstate you fear – and discover his cock is well-lubed as your hand glides effortly along its length. The head prods at your sphincter, you relax, and it slowly slips through the tight ring. He pauses as his glans catches just inside the sphincter, and swirls his hips gently, bringing forth a murmur of pleasure from you. You gasp as he presses in another two inches. He bobs back and forth for a moment, then you feel something odd dancing about your labia. Suddenly he thrusts in deep, gliding all the way into your ass, but not only into your ass but your pussy as well! “Oh, god – oh god – this must be from his dream” you think. Two cocks – both a good eight inches, both filling you completely, both springing from David’s body. You can’t wait to ask him tomorrow if he had any good dreams, but for now, you thrust your whole being back against him. With blurred eyes and hard panting, you stare across at the other couple, whose pace has slowed, but still hard and passionate. As he thrusts fully against her, she opens her mouth full, letting her teeth graze across the flesh of his arm, and instantly two red trickles appear. As her tongue reaches out to taste, her eyes turn toward and look deep into yours. Her vision passes your boundaries, and you hear a soft voice say, “It is what you’re longing for ....” You shake your head and break the gaze to throw her out – then look questioningly at Weisshart, as David continues to thrust deep in your ass and pussy, working his hips in circles as he does. “Yes – they are real, too. Why are you continually surprised by others who are aware? Do you think this is your own private dreamworld?” You are unable to answer. Astonished by what you just saw, and overwhelmed by the fire emanating between your legs and spreading in waves through your body, you cannot speak, but only hope to remember to ask when you can. Weisshart continues, “She knows you, Gina. And she wants you. In the world, she looks different, but still recognizable as an acquaintance.” You bite your lip, your pussy starting to quiver in the first stages before orgasm, building, building, but not quite making it to the top. You try playing with your clit yourself, but it still isn’t enough, even with two cocks to drive you over the edge into madness. Your fingers slip against David’s other shaft, and slide in to join its plunging length, then slip out to moisten your clit more. You hear grunts and moans from across the alleyway and look up to see him shuddering against her, his face contorted in the agonies of passion already spent, but burning hot still. She looks at you with her reddened lips, and before you know it slips again inside your mind, and whispers “come for me.” And as the scream of pleasure flies from your mouth, the orgasm rockets out in waves simultaneously from your cunt and your brain. All your muscles give and hold, tense and release, and you feel as though you could squeeze David’s cock ... David’s cocks ... from his body with your anal and vaginal muscles. Your belly flutters and you weep softly in release. David slides himself out, and turns you, enveloping your trembling body in his mass, holding your up and drawing you in to him, softly kissing your neck as the orgasm continues to ride up and down your body in smaller and smaller waves. Finally, you rest. And now you really wonder what David saw .... what was in his dream. Did he see the couple? Does HE know the girl? Your breathing calms, your muscles relax, and your twitching eyes slow ... and stop. Your dreamtime is over ... But the dreams will continue ... Dreammaster Ch. 02 The next morning, you find a pretext to visit David in the server room. His initial blush and subsequent hesitant conversation tell you clearly that he has remembered his dream from the night before. Pretext out of the way, you dive in with a smile. "So ... Anything of interest happen lately." You lose what eye contact you had with him as he busies himself with tidying his workspace then responds, "Umm ... Not really - haven't been out much lately. Maria and I are breaking up, I think, so we haven't been out much lately." His repetition only serves to underscore his un-ease. With your copyrighted sincere frown, you reply, "Oh, David - I'm sorry. I really like her." ("really like her" you think to yourself) "So - its just been to work, then home to sleep - to sleep, perchance to dream ...?" He freezes at this, then looks up at you, sheepish grin wrapped in layers around his face. Further silence as his eyes flit about the unoccupied room, then he speaks, “Uhhhh .... I shouldn’t say this, but I had another dream last night. I mean, a dream that you happened to be in, I mean.” You grin broadly, vastly entertained by his attack of nerves. "I see - was this a hot dream, like the last one?" "Much hotter. Much, much hotter." "Just us or were there others? Anyone we know?" you decide to head right for your objective, since he is so flustered. "It was just us together, I mean. You were looking out the window at some people in another building, but I think they were just talking in their kitchen." The sharp, quizzical look you shoot at him sets him back, confused. You soften your gaze and wonder if he's lying (but why?), or really did see them just talking in the kitchen and not wildly fucking. You'll have to ask Weisshart about that. You glance at your watch and realize you have three minutes to get to a meeting. "Damn - got to run." As you turn, one last question, "So - was there anything unusual in the dream?" The confession of his beet-red face overrules his oral objections. You pause for one knowing qlance, then move on with your day. Outside in the hall, you mutter a soft curse over the information you didn't get from him. "Why don't I recognize her?" you wonder. "I wouldn't forget that red hair." At lunch you make up nearby errands so you have a ready excuse for wandering about, staring at women in your local haunts. There is no flash of recognition, however, either in your mind or another's eyes. The day slides by, and the evening follows suit. You consider going to bed early, but know you'll just lay there, too intrigued and curious for sleep to take hold. When you finally start nodding in your chair, you know that sleep will come quick and effortless. Your head sinks into the pillow; in only a moment you slide into darkness. And, after a time, your eyes begin their dream-stalking motions. ... The cabinet door in your parents' kitchen catches slightly then creaks open. You reach in and deftly remove boxes of crackers and slip them into your backpack alongside the cheese and wine already there. You look around to see if you've awakened anyone, but when your silence is matched by the house, you creep stealthily to the back door where you are met by Kent, the American literature prof your friend Anita poached from you last winter. "Did you get it?" he asks, peering into the backpack. "Mmmm ... " he confirms your selections, then takes your hand in his. "Come on - I'm going to take you to the island." He begins running through the woods, and you race along to keep up, feet splashing through puddles of leaves on the way. Suddenly, you see him lunge forward and for a moment he seems airborne, but for you holding tight to his hand, wrenching him back to earth. He turns to you, astonished, and slips an arm around you, whispering, "You still can't fly ...? " Without speaking it aloud, you think, "I'm sure Anita the bitch could fly." and in your own head, you hear, "No - she only wanted to fuck. She got bored with me. Come on, we'll fly together." He leans in, your open mouths meet, and then, instead of his tongue, you feel his moist breath fill your mouth. You press against him for support as you feel an intoxicating flush sweep through the provinces of your body. He pulls back and jerks his head toward the horizon with a smile. "Come on, she's waiting for you." With a leap, he takes the two of you into the air, just as an electric thrill runs through you from knees to navel. "Who?" you ask, already knowing the answer. He draws you up into spooning position, nestling your now naked bodies together. His breath sings in your ear as his hands mold your pelvis to his. There is a pause, then he responds with a certain puzzlement in his voice, "... I don't know ... She's a redhead ... She said to come for you." The two of you fall into silence as he controls the flight. You feel each thrust of his body and tightening of his hands as he periodically accelerates, his cock sliding familiarly against the lips of your increasingly damp and aromatic pussy. With each acceleration, you clench your thighs and squirm against his cock. Images cascade through your mind: bodies writhing against one another, sweat and shadows, long red hair, deep breathing and sharp panting. Long red hair weaving its way into your mind, seeming so real that you can feel the strands flowing silkily around your body. You drift out of your reverie and realize Kent's cock has slipped from between your thighs, then come to an awareness that your partner has changed completely. Breasts press into your back, and fine, small fingers grip you as strongly as before. Hair cascades over and around your shoulders. Soft lips touch the communication center of your brain, and from within you come the words, "Hello, Regina . . I'm Cassandra." She surprises you by using your full first name – does anyone call you Regina anymore? As you melt against her, you wonder, "What happened to Kent?" "We didn't need him anymore. I had him bring you to me, and now I've sent him off to another dream." "Does that mean you're a DreamMaster . . . like Weisshart?" She chuckles gently within you and replies, "Yes . . . and no. We're both after different things." "And Kent?" "Noooo . . . he's just a dreamer who remembers how to fly." "So, what do you want from me?" "For now, just to relax. We're almost there." With that, silence overtakes your mind, and you become more aware of the body that nestles you. Somehow, the hands that grip you securely also glide along your thighs and stroke gently to the underside of your breasts. Her lips start at the base of your skull, then zig-zag along your neck before starting down your spine, depositing wet, gently sucking kisses at each vertebrae, down to an impossibly low place before retracing the path back up. This massage, like no other, combined with Cassandra's secure embrace, drains away the last of your uneasiness. Whether by chance or design, Cassandra begins to descend now, spiraling the two of you downward through the treetop to a small clearing. Landing, you walk with her to a moss-covered rock, where she gently lays you back, firm but soft hands sliding you fully onto the raised platform. She whispers, "We'll be right back . . ." You wonder about the plural pronoun, but are too much at ease to labor over it. The soft and cool of the rock contrast with the heat from the sun filtering through the leafy canopy above. With closed eyes, you lay and wait, unmindful of the time passing, then she returns. They return. You feel fingers stroking your brow from above your head while at the same time, another hand takes your left hand and turns it slightly, unfolding it. Your hand is cradled as warm, soft lips arrive and land damply on your palm. You open your eyes as the lips move to your wrist. You look down, then look up questioningly at Cassandra. Her voice reaches into your head and replies, "Look familiar but can't place him? I've sifted him out of your memories. Anyone you might have lusted after might be in there somewhere." For now, you close your eyes again as he kisses his way up your arm, around your shoulder, then down your chest, one hand resting flat on your stomach. Cassandra thinks to you, ". . . watch my hand . . . " Your eyes open and you see her hand hovering over your pubes. She circles for a moment, then dips her middle finger slightly and draws her hand back, as though gently plucking a string. Your clit trembles and your labia part in erotic readiness. With each pluck, the trembling radiate out through your body. To your surprise, when you close your eyes again, the trembling continues with each pluck. Everyman (what else would you call him?) pauses at each nipple long enough to bathe each with his tongue and to suck gently. When he returns to tracing the curves of your breasts, your nipples and areola cool under the gentle breeze in the clearing. With both of them caressing you - him directly and Cassandra from above, your legs begin to draw up, parting at the knees in lustful anticipation. You feel a warm tickle in the valley between your breasts; your eyelids part briefly to tell you what you suspected - Cassandra's hand is hovering over your breasts. In a moment, you feel a slow trickle of energy begin to flow from clit to breasts, swirling at points between your breasts and just below your navel. The stream twists and writhes like electricity and your back begins to arch and undulate under the flow. You feel yourself spiraling in toward your center, drawing Cassandra and Everyman with you in a rush of ecstasy and emotion. Distracted, you do not notice that Everyman has moved between your legs until you feel the head of his cock gliding silkily against your dewy mound. He draws back, you tilt your pelvis slightly, and he slides in without resistance. Slow, deep strokes caress the inner walls of your vagina – deep kiss at the back and nibbles and sucking on the outstroke. Cassandra begins to move to the side, letting her hands roam more freely, but always bringing them back to where they started. Your skin burns and you feel Cassandra in your mind again, “... open – relax, take the energy, let it flow through, be one ...” Your hips start to thrust upward, greeting Everyman’s cock as it fills you again and again, your legs locking around him to drive him forward, hands resting on his arms to steady the bounce and counterthrust. With your eyes closed, you see blue arcs cross your eyelids, the electric anticipation of the orgasm about to envelope you, your fingers lock onto Everyman’s upper arms and a rhythmic panting moan starts low in your belly and echoes from your mouth. Like crossing the sound barrier, your entire body trembles for a moment, then is launched into the incredible calm of complete orgasm. Entwined with Cassandra and Everyman, you are adrift in the ether, the energy that was flowing point to point through you now dancing off your skin and bathing the cells of your body. Your cells spin down in unison now, until all is at rest, and you float. No agenda, no vector, just presence and singularity. You lay still for what seems like hours until you realize the mossy stone is now your bed ... you have floated up from dream to world. You lay still, holding the memory of the dream until you can will your body to begin the day. You long again for the night, but know you are too depleted, and not yet ready for the next encounter. Dreammaster Ch. 03 After the dreams of the previous two nights, you are very careful to avoid coffee this day, knowing it will be hard enough to concentrate, to relax, and to sleep, without the added boost of caffeine. Your mind races back and forth across your work, and the most you can do is move between stacks and bid the hour speed. End of day comes and you stand on the platform, watching your trains pass, only realizing your omission before the third departure. As the train glides down the rails toward your station, you lean against the poles, wishing there were someone behind you, holding fast to your hips, leaning both of you in the direction of movement. You beg out of dinner plans with your friend, Sondra. She would only have given you endless details about her upcoming vacation, and you see no point – you know she'll give you the same endless detail after the vacation, so why hear it twice? Instead, you eat the half of your leftovers you don't toy with, take a long soaking bath, joined by two glasses of Chardonnay, then head off to an early bed. The wine and the light meal do the trick, and in short order, you have drifted into dark slumber. As you percolate upward into the dream, you are joined immediately by Weisshart, who grasps you firmly by your elbow and says only, "Come, Gina - we have much to do." You barely have time to recognize your surroundings - the clearing from last night - before they dissolve and you find yourself indoors in a kind of atrium, the pungent aroma of some unknown incense hanging heavy on you. What light there is comes from oil lamps scattered haphazardly around your body, laid flat on a broad table and naked. Somewhere back and to your left, you hear water splashing - perhaps a fountain. You start to sit up and realize you haven't the strength to lift your upper body. Seeing the concern on your face, Weisshart says, "Don't worry - you'll be safe here - Cassandra won't find you." "What do you mean? Safe from her? What are you saying?" "She's dangerous, Gina. I didn't realize until last night just how dangerous she is. But to protect you, we must act now." "What do we have to do?" you ask with uncertainty and deep confusion at the notion of Cassandra being a danger to you. You struggle to lift yourself upright but can only manage to raise yourself a few inches. "Gina - I can protect you, but you have to give yourself to me completely. Not to worry, though - I'll make it easy for you." He passes his hand in front of your face and when it is gone, you are no longer alone on the table. To your left is a woman in the middle of two men. She is on her hands and knees with one man before her, his obviously thick cock straining her mouth. Behind her, the other man, his cock making deep, urgent lunges into her pussy. On your right, a young couple, maybe early twenties, in missionary position, her legs locked around him, hips rising to meet his thrusts. She removes her near hand from his waist, and lets it fall softly upon your belly. She looks over at you, and you both blink in surprise. She is the young photographer whose gallery show you attended with Sondra a few weeks back. A smile of acknowledgment passes between the two of you before she turns her head back. Her hand remains on you, however, drifting back and forth across you, driven by her partner's slow, rhythmic thrusts. Other hands gently part your thighs as you yourself are joined by a man whom you don't recognize. On his knees before you, he draws his fingers across your inner thighs. His lean body invites your eyes downward, from his broad chest to his well-proportioned uncut cock. Though he strikes you as "generic hunk," you won't complain until you sample his technique. He wastes no time - bending immediately to part your labia with his tongue. You feel his hot breath upon your damp flesh. His fingers continue their dance on your inner thighs as his whole mouth - tongue, lips, and teeth - attend to the pleasures of your clit. Occasionally, he plunges his tongue (his unusually long tongue, you discover) into your pussy to savor your fresh nectar. With no small effort, you place your hands on either side of his head, encouraging him to delve deeper. You rotate your hips in small circles, grinding yourself against his face, as your breathing becomes more labored. He points his tongue at the underside of your clit, laps gently at it, then flicks, and your thighs snap tightly around his head, then release. He repeats this on and off, alternating with attention to both your outer and inner labia, until you begin to tremble the moment you feel his tongue on your clit. His finger probes your ass, gathering your flowing moisture, and slipping softly in, stopping for a massage of the outer ring with just his fingertip, then as you relax, gliding in to the next knuckle, then another pause with gentle swirling motions, then the final plunge to the base of the finger. With each knuckle, you feel the disorienting downward plunge of white water rafting – slow and calm, then a rush of sensation. He continues to tongue you and at this point, you would swear that his tongue is several places at once. The sounds of passion coming from the other couples grow louder and more ragged. The threesome on your left is making the most noise, the two men grunting in time to their thrusts, and the woman emitting a slowly escalating whimpering moan, the waves of her passion splashing up then receding, each time going a bit higher with each thrust from the partner in her pussy. By now, the woman to the right, gasping throatily under her own passion has let her hand drift downward toward your trimmed outcropping. Her hand rests lightly between your clit and your navel, sheltering the place, and holding the passion inside. Now and then, it awakens and rubs lightly, then returns to stillness. Your skin begins to flush – you feel your muscles tensing and relaxing all at once, your ass clenching down on your partner's fingers, milking ripples inside your unoccupied pussy. Your orgasm is approaching – with every suck and nip now, you shudder a bit, surging along with the heightening moans of those around you. Your splayed legs drop and lay slack then pop up again, fighting strong gravity as they seek to draw your eater deep within you. Without warning, your partner flies backward, throwing out his arms as he is wrenched around, spiraling into the darkness. "Enough!" announces Weisshart, "Now is the time." and he appears in front of you, between your legs. You stare straight at him, a twisted grin on his face; his hands, his cold, cold hands gripping your sides securely. Your eyes travel further down, and come to a halt, beholding the most enormous, engorged red cock you could possibly imagine. It grazes your inner thigh, and chills you to the bone – you try to back away on the table, but you still have no strength in your limbs, and his cold, iron grip holds you fast. "Now is the time," he repeats, glistening black eyes fixed on you, "Soon, she won't be able to touch you again." Sheer terror keeps you from crying out; whatever holds you to the table keeps you from struggling. His cold beast of a cock hangs down and half-lays upon your stomach as he hefts your body closer. As he takes cock in hand, doubtless to begin insertion, he too is thrown back, this time by a streak that appears from behind your head and sails over your body – crashing into him and dragging him to the floor. In their tumbling through the half light at the edge of the lamps, you can barely make out waving red hair. In a surge of panicked hope, you imagine it to be Cassandra, but have no idea any longer of who is saving you from whom. Lamps are extinguished, pots shattered, oil splashed everywhere as the two tumble back and fort trough the shadows. The scene is made more bizarre by the fucking taking place in the shadow of the violence. The couple to your right, however, begin making sidelong glances that direction and finally, when both look over simultaneously, fade into nothingness. You assume they are real, and were finally disturbed from their dream enough to waken. Cassandra seems to be taking the upper hand, pouncing on the figure of Weisshart now in slow retreat, though you still notice him eying you as he maneuvers around the room. Cassandra keeps herself between Weisshart and you, slashing at him with her fingers, now grown long and wiry, topped with long nails that glisten even in the soft lamplight. Weisshart makes a sudden lunge to his left and Cassandra lashes out, off balance. Weisshart sees his opening and throws his shoulder against her, sending her sprawling against a column. As she crumples there in a daze, he sees his opportunity and sprints toward you, grasping hand outstretched. You watch in numbed horror as this wraith-like winged creature rises up behind him, closing the distance in an instant. Streaks of blood spatter you as the creature's talons shoot through him just above his shoulder blades. As he falters, you finally feel the heavy blanket that held you to the table lifted. At the same time, the threesome to your left flickers and disappears, leaving nothing behind. The wraith rises into the air with Weisshart and flings its now limp adversary into a corner, then retires to the far corner of the room. You watch apprehensively for a time. No knowing where to flee to, you sit and regather your strength, waiting for some sign of activity from where you last saw Cassandra. Thought the room is by no means cold, you sit tightly coiled, shivering. You weep softly, trying to figure out how to break the dream spell and return to your own bed. As you resolve to rise and search for some means of escape, you spy Cassandra limping in from the shadows. You tense, but wait on her approach. She rolls herself slowly onto the table on the far side, clearly exhausted. You scoot away, keeping your eyes on her and ask slowly and deliberately, "What - do - you - want - from - me?" She gives a wry, pained smile - taking a moment to reply, "It was foolish... I should have come to you directly. Instead, I asked Weisshart to introduce us. I had no idea what he was doing the first night. By the second night, I doubted his motives. Almost too late tonight, I realized he was going to rip your soul from you and devour you." You stare at her, then ask skeptically, "... Before you had a chance to?" She shakes her head, driving a tear from her eye. "No - I wanted to know you, and then I wanted to care for you. If this is too much for you, I'll understand. I won't pursue you." Long moments pass, the wheels of the night turn. You watch her breathe, neither of you speaking. With a shrug, you slip off the table, and walk slowly off into the darkness. In a moment, you return, water dripping from your cupped hands. You pour it into a shallow depression in the stone table, dipping your fingers in to wipe Cassandra's dirty, sweaty, blood-flecked face. Over and over you dip and wipe until her face begins to shine. "I've never known any vampires" you think to her "I've especially never known any silly, romantic vampires." and a smile crosses your face, and surprises her into a soft smile as well. "Is he really dead?" She nods in reply. "Is any of the rest of this real?" She shakes her head. "Are you real?" She nods her head. "And if he had taken me...?" She looks directly into your eyes, and shakes her head slowly, with a grave finality. Trembling overcomes your body. "I need to be somewhere real. Right now!" At your insistence, she rises up and effortlessly swoops you up in her arms, saying "Come with me." Your eyes close... ... and reopen, and now you are wrapped in your downy comforter in your own bed – time, 10:30, and Cassandra is sitting alongside you in the dark, stroking your face. "You are real." "Yes" is her only reply before she leans over and kisses both your temples. "No more dreams tonight – only sleep. We'll see each other tomorrow. I promise." One last questioning look from you, and she replies, "You'll be safe. I promise." You believe her. Your eyes close and you float through uninterrupted oblivion until your alarm wakes you for work in the morning. The day passes – each task provides a handhold to draw you closer to nighttime. The queue of calls to return tomorrow, not today, grows. Always in the back of your mind are two Cassandras: one continually stroking your cheek, and another endlessly flinging the impaled Weisshart into the dark.