The first time I woke up with you next to me, I was frightened. My mind scrambled to understand what was going on. How was it that you were not there a moment ago when I slowly woke up, and how I was suddenly trapped in your arms when I rolled over?
I fought you but you were strong and subdued me easily, your arms coiled around me, your hands pinning my wrists together. I could not open my eyes, although I could see sunlight through my eyelids. I did not scream. The thought did not occur to me.
I fought you until I ran out of energy. You didn't relax your hold. You didn't do anything. I mustered enough energy and wrenched around hard to break your grasp.
It worked. I broke free of your arms, opened my eyes and found myself alone in bed.
I told myself it was just a bizarre dream, and let it go.
It was several months before you came back. I could vividly pinpoint the moment you reappeared.
My alarm clock went off. I found it by feel, smacked it into snooze, flopped back into bed... and straight into your arms. Again my eyes were sealed shut. I strained against your arms, not getting anywhere as my panic increased.
I got a hand free and dug my nails into your arm. It was like assaulting a leather couch; I might have made some indentations but was nowhere near breaking skin or hurting you into letting go.
Again, you did nothing but held me tightly against you, making sure I couldn't get away. Anticipating my every move and countering it effortlessly. Waiting patiently until I got tired of fighting and slumped into you, defeated. Making me wonder what you were up to if you weren't going to go ahead and rape me.
The alarm clock went off, jolting me. And you were gone just like that. The only trace of you ever being here was my pounding heart.
For the next few days, weeks and months, I was afraid that it would happen again.
I mentioned this to a few close friends. One of them said I should talk to a priest if it happens again. I wasn't very keen on the idea, but it did not escape me that one only consults with priests if there were demons involved.
I remembered your leathery skin, your strength and uncanny ability to know what I was about to do. I don't know what a demon would want with me.
To reassure myself that there is a logical explanation for this, I did some research. There is something called a 'false awakening', a dream about waking up from sleep and carrying on as though you woken up. People have vivid false awakenings. The Inception movie revolved around the concept. This was much preferable to the other theory.
I tried dreaming you back, simply because the research I did whetted my curiosity. But nothing like that happened again. Eventually I forgot about you, and that was when you came back.
It was just past a year since your first visit. As usual, I was caught offguard.
No alarm clock this time. I woke up in your arms, flailed around a bit before realising it was you.
It's a dream, my brain said. I stopped fighting. To my own surprise, I snuggled into your chest and relaxed, quite prepared to go back to sleep.
I felt your breath on my cheek. "Don't leave me," you whispered.
My heart slammed into my ribs and my eyes snapped open. This was new.
You had an accent I wasn't expecting and can't place, and a voice that made something in my belly curl with recognition. A pleasant timbre overlaid with a sleepy growl.
"Who... what?" It was out of my mouth before I realised it.
You pulled me closer against you. I felt your lips on my shoulder, a deep sigh against my neck and tickling my collarbone. "Please stay. I need you."
I looked down at your arms, one around my shoulders, and the other around my waist. They looked all too human. I placed a hand on your forearm, feeling hard muscles and firm skin. You felt human, but your limbs were feverishly hot against my skin.
"Who are you? How did you get here?" I rolled over to face you and felt you slip away. I opened my mouth to protest, but you were gone.
Feeling ridiculous but needing to know, I checked the floor, under the bed and glanced around the room. It confirmed my suspicion. You weren't here. You weren't real.
I put a hand on top of the sheets next to me. It was warm, and it covered an area large enough for a person. I was baffled, both by the hint that I had company a minute ago and by your words. Why were you asking me to stay when you were the one who came and went?
And why did I suddenly felt alone when you left?
I rarely felt alone. I wore my solitary status like a badge of honour. It's been a long time since my last relationship, and even then, we did not stay together long enough for him be welcomed in my bed.
I thought about the feeling of your arms around me, the need in your voice when you asked me to stay. I briefly thought about the vibrator in my bedside drawer, dismissed the idea and reluctantly got out of bed.
I thought about you for weeks but you stayed away. There was one morning when I thought someone was there, thought I heard someone breathing deeply in slumber. It stopped as soon as I opened my eyes.
Just when I was brushing it off and thinking about other things, I woke up with my cheek pressed against your bare chest and your arms around me.
I didn't struggle this time but you knew I was awake. Your hand stroked the small of my back, your fingers tracing circles on the skin exposed between the bottom of my tank top and top of my panties.
I was afraid to move at first, staring at the light dusting of hair your chest, my eyes following it down into the narrow space between our bodies. The blanket was hitched down just past your waist. I felt your legs entwined with mine, but I wasn't even sure if you had anything on down there.
Because I had to convince myself of the lucidity of this dream, I reached out a hand and touched your chest. I heard you suck in a breath in response, saw your chest heave. But you let me explore.
Moving back a little so I no longer press too closely against you, I traced my fingers down your chest, over your stomach. You were a bit on the thin side, not as what I would imagine a fantasy bedfellow to be. When my hand went lower, you tensed up, causing a ripple of abs emerge under my touch.
I exhaled, realising only then that I was holding my breath.
You took my hand in yours, moved it up and pressed it to the centre of your chest. I felt a fast heartbeat.
"Real enough for you?" you asked, finally breaking the silence.
I nodded against your chest, still not looking up. "How?" I asked simply.
"I don't know," You paused. "I've been searching for you ever since... last year, when all this started."
I badly wanted to look at your face. It was the only part that was always elusive during these encounters. But something was nagging at the back of my mind.
"Every time I try to look at you, you disappear," I told you.
"Mmmmm, so that's the problem," you replied. I felt you stretch, reaching for something. "I hope that is the only problem, darling." You paused. "Actually, that's not the only problem. My bedroom doesn't look quite right."
"Your bedroom?" I said, shifting to look. "I thought we were in MY bedroom."
Your arm coiled around me and you held my head down. "No, don't move in case you change something," You sighed. "I'd really like to try and keep you with me a little longer this time."
Your words, the way you said it, put a sweet ache in my heart. It made me feel like... like I belonged somewhere.
"Here, close your eyes. Sit up."
You helped me in to a sitting position, my back to you, and tied something snugly over my eyes. "Comfortable?"
I calmed myself with a breath and adjusted the blindfold so it won't slip. "Yes."
I turned back to face you. I wasn't very sure where you were now, but you were still sitting up next to me. I felt you move, and your hand cupped one side of my face. For a moment, I thought you were going to kiss me, but you spoke instead.
"Are you all right?" you asked gently.
My stomach did a little flip flop. "I think so," I whispered. I was grappling with too many things. Not knowing what happened, why it happened, and not being able to see. Why this dream seemed to be lasting longer than usual.
I felt you shift on the bed. As I sat there, you laid back down, curled around me so that your thighs rested lightly against my back. You took my hand and placed it down on what I took to be the curve of your waist. I jumped a little when I felt your arm drape across my lap, completing the protective cocoon you built around me with your body.
You stroke my leg soothingly and I relaxed a little more, appreciating how you knew what to do to reorient my senses.
We didn't say anything for a while. I felt your eyes upon me and suddenly remembered that I wasn't wearing very much. Neither were you, I recalled, blushing.
I heard you chuckle a bit. Your voice came from somewhere below my shoulder level.
"What's your name?" you asked.
I told you my name. You told me yours. It rolled off my tongue naturally, a fairly common Anglo Saxon name.
"You don't sound like someone from my country," I said.
"I have to say the same about you." You told me where you were from, where you went to bed before finding yourself here.
I don't remember your country of residence now. I just remembered being shocked. We were from different countries, separated by hundreds of miles of ocean. I told you where I was from and you had to think a little before you could place it.
"What did you say was wrong with the bedroom?" I asked.
"Hmmm," you said. The sound rolled lazily in the back of your throat. You didn't say anything for a few seconds. "It looks like two rooms decided to fight to occupy the same space and came to a compromise."
I tilted my head. "Meaning?"
"Like this blanket? Mine. Brown wool. Sheets must be yours. Pale green. Nice, earthy combination if you think about it."
"Bed?" I felt your body shift as you took a look around.
"They fought and they both lost, I think. Just be glad you can't see it," you bounced on the mattress. "And that it isn't collapsing under us."
"Hah," I offered lamely.
You continued describing things that you see around the room.
"There's a vase of sunflowers on the chest of drawers by the window. Not mine. I don't even have a window there. The corner table is mine. Even has all my junk on it. My necktie was on the bedside table. I kinda left it there because I was in a hurry to leave for work yesterday and didn't put it away. The bedside table must be yours though."
You paused for a couple of beats, and cleared your throat. "There's a lacy red bra draped over the back of a chair belonging to me..."
