Michael lay in bed that night and reflected on the evening before. He told himself that there was a rational explanation for everything. The belief in this new power gave him the confidence to do something he wouldn't normally do. Michael told himself that nothing that had happened was inexplicable. Surely, he thought, it was more likely that he had simply got lucky with a horny waitress than he had some mystical power. He fell asleep with his rational mind dismissing his power. Deep down though, his unconscious knew his power was real. That night Michael dreamt.
The hotel room was beautiful. The décor reeked of decadence and the furniture looked liked it could have been made for a king. Michael had never been in a place like it. He wondered if his monthly salary might cover one night here. He doubted it.
"It doesn't cost anything, Michael. It's not real," the voice drifted from what Michael assumed was the en suite bathroom. "You're dreaming."
Michael almost answered the voice, contradicting the assertion. Then he realised that it spoke the truth. As he stood on the thick, soft carpet in his bare feet and dressing gown admiring his surroundings his mind adjusted to the fact that none of this was really happening. That his body was laying in his own bed in his shithole apartment and his existence here was only imaginary.
Only one question remained. "So why does it feel so real?"
"Because you need to know something, Mike. This isn't an ordinary dream."
"You're telling m..." Michael started but he was stopped in his tracks when she walked out of the bathroom.
The woman stepped out into his line of vision wrapped in a towel. Her long blond hair cascaded down onto her exquisite smooth shoulders and her beautiful thick ruby lips parted slightly in a smile at Michael's reaction. The towel barely concealed her curvy figure and her bare legs begged to be touched and caressed. Michael recognised her instantly.
"You're Christina Aguilera," he blurted.
"No shit, Sherlock," Christina said. "Well, I'm not really her of course. It's just that I've taken her form for now. I'm really just something you're brain has created to fulfil a task." She grinned, mischievously. "You can still call me Christina though."
Michael grinned back. "So you're like part of me. Does that mean if we fuck then it would be like fucking myself? I've never had a problem with masturbation personally."
"You're a horny bastard aren't you?" Christina said. "First we need talk. Fancy a drink?"
The gorgeous Christina shaped dream creature of Michael's unconscious headed for the mini bar. She grabbed a handful of miniature bottles of vodka and sat on the edge of the king size bed alongside Michael. They each opened a bottle and took a swig.
"So..." Michael said. "Why are we here?"
