You know how sometimes when you’re asleep and your mind starts to enter that place… a place so much like reality, that you’re not quite sure if it is or isn’t. All your senses are so alive that you can see everything in bright, vibrant colors and great detail. Even when it’s black enough that you shouldn’t be able to see at all you still find yourself picking up the images of the things surrounding you. You can hear every noise very distinctly and it seems so loud that you’re surprised that you don’t wake up. And you’re able to feel the worst pains and the shivers of the slightest touch. You can taste and even smell…
My nights and my dreams are like that, and I’ve heard that they call it profound REM sleep, but really… whatever.
All I know is that the attackers are chasing me and I’m so fucking scared, fighting to get away. It’s dark but I can see what’s in front of me. I’m running so fast that the muscles in my legs are burning like an inferno. I’m screaming so loud that my voice becomes hoarse, barely above a rasp. I can hear the footsteps behind me gaining fast and getting closer, never more than just a moment behind me. And I can smell the sour odor of the rotten food reeking from the dumpsters in the alleyway as I run by.
It’s so real.
And all I know is that when I dream about Brian in the middle of the night, I can feel his hands roaming over my body. I actually arch my back and whimper against his wet licks and kisses. I can smell the stale tobacco and expensive shampoo and the other sexy aromas that permeate the back of his neck and under his arm and around his dick… the smells that are distinctly him. I can hear him moan deep in my eardrums and it echoes in my head. I’m so alive with arousal that my ass spasms and twitches at the imaginary penetration. And I cum and cum and cum because in dreams, you never really lose your hard-on. The best parts just keep going and going... the climax is never ending.
It’s so very real.
And all I know is that when the ideas come, they’re brilliant and I have to draw them quickly or they’ll fade away into the darkness. I draw so fast and so furiously that my hand cramps and my fingers pull and twist so tight that they won’t hold the pencil any longer. Scene after scene, all my thoughts rushing from my brain to the paper. And it’s the best issue yet, because in my dreams I’m brilliant and everything is just perfect. So they’re good… they’re always good and, I know, Michael will love them and Brian will be proud.
It’s so fucking real.
And sometimes, just sometimes…I wake in the morning unable to speak with a sore throat, blistered feet and burning thighs.
And sometimes, just sometimes…I wake in the morning with a throbbing ass and I have to slowly and carefully peel the stiff parts of the bed sheets off my dick and pubic hair where they’re all stuck together.
And sometimes, just sometimes…I wake in the morning with an achy hand and a piece of paper lying on the nightstand next to my side of the bed that has some kind of villain on it that Rage has defeated, and I have no idea who he is because I’ve never seen him before.
And it all makes me wonder…
Was it a dream?
Was it real?
Because sometimes, just sometimes… I don’t know anymore.
