Author's note:
Ah, we were such inquisitive, experimental youths in our college days. My group of friends talked about everything—with few limits—and one series of conversations centered on dreaming. We peered at every angle we could see, and when someone found research suggesting we could actually control whether or not we remembered our dreams, we all agreed to see if it worked and share what we remembered.
It was during this trial week back in 1989 that I had an eerie, erotic dream so powerful I awoke still feeling every detail, as if I'd been there and lived it right through to the end. I skipped classes in an effort to record it all. And now thanks to Lit's newest contest, I've been motivated to rewrite it into more than a feverishly written rough draft (the original pages I referenced were yellowed with age).
Looking back, I wonder if the experience was the first real visitation from my muse, who often shares story ideas while I'm dreaming. Neither my friends nor I could maintain the process of heightened dreaming, for even as young as we were, the strong dreams exhausted us. Fortunately, the process could be reversed, and we returned to normal sleep patterns. This dream had never been shared with anyone until now.
Thank you, Copycarver, for the quick edit, proving once again that even editors need editors.
***
Crickets and the river created a background symphony of sounds for the campfire. Collin placed another bundle of sticks on top, producing a chorus of cracking and popping, and he stepped back to view his handiwork. A light aroma of smoke tinted the fresh air. Above him stretched the wilderness's night, endless and beautiful, made more enchanting by each pinpoint of light.
"Yeah, not so bad after all," the young man mused to himself, and he glanced down to see Suzy grinning at him. She patted the camping chair beside her in invitation.
"We'll make a believer out of you yet," she promised.
He sat down and took the beer she offered before answering. "Wouldn't go that far, Suzy dearest, but there is something peaceful and exciting about this place. I won't deny that."
"The peace comes from Mother Nature, and the excitement comes from me in your sleeping bag." The heated stare she gave him prompted a laugh. True, there were definitely worse ways to spend a summer week, though it might make going back to school more painful. From across the campfire, his friend Brett seemed to read his thoughts.
"Nice break from the routine of crowded beaches and smoky bars," Brett admitted, taking a pull from his beer, "though this smoke makes my eyes sting like crazy. Still feel good."
"Might be nature, but my vote is it's Beth snuggled up under your arm." Collin motioned to them with his beer.
"I'll drink to that," Brett grinned back at Collin, squeezing his girlfriend closer to him and raising his bottle in a toast.
Later that night, Suzy lay in Collin's arms as they listened to Beth's faint giggling, which occasionally rose above the river's murmurs. Suzy traced her fingers along Collin's chest and stomach.
"Not so bad as you thought, huh?" Suzy loved pointed out his mistakes to him, but this time Collin didn't mind.
"Nope. This is a great final adventure before school. Exactly as promised." Suzy's fingers snaked beneath the blanket to caress his stirring cock.
"You just have to try new things more often." And with her point made, Suzy lowered her mouth to his erection for a moment before climbing onto his chest and settling around him with a soft sigh.
* * *
"Yeah!" Brett whooped as they crashed through another haystack and were showered with cool river water. The raft careened over water-worn rocks, through powerful chutes and walls of spray, over chaotic rapids, and past majestic canyon walls, which stood as testaments to nature's creativity. They agreed this section of the river felt more exhilarating than the one from the previous day—everyone except Beth, who now sported a worried look.
"You sure we can handle this?" she shouted above the sounds of the river. "It seems to be getting worse."
"Don't worry," Suzy yelled back. "Remember, the guidebook said nothing over class III, and we can handle that in our sleep." Beth didn't look comforted, as they were swept between giant boulders and down a tiny two-foot waterfall. It was clear she preferred the quiet, sensual evenings to this daytime ruckus.
The haystacks became muted by the strength of the flow, and the adventurers were rushed around a bend.
"Oh, shit," Brett murmured an irreverent prayer. Their joy forgotten as they met enormous foaming rapids and a distinctive roar of hostile water. Crosscurrents seemed to be fighting the normal river trajectory, creating mists from the pulverized water. They accelerated dramatically, being driven, and Collin glanced around for an eddy, a safe haven of water that would shelter them from the main current. Though the river's width couldn't have been more than twenty feet, nothing seemed to exist but foamy spray and boulder-lined banks.
Suzy stared at Collin with wide, frightened eyes, her look pleading with him to help. Another instant to gasp and they were hurled into the maelstrom, the raft flipping violently, dumping them and their gear into the water in a tangle of limbs.
Collin felt Suzy rip away from him, felt their paddles and cooler slam against him as the river claimed them all. Someone kicked off of him in desperation, thrusting him deeper, below the violent surface currents; slamming into the riverbed almost cost him the breath he'd snatched when they were dumped. Desperately clutching at a boulder, he realized the confused bottom current had nothing of the violence of the surface. So before his lifejacket could float him back into the madness, he clawed at its latches.
Survival instinct kept him scrambling for handholds as he shrugged out of the jacket, kicking against the buoyancy that would draw him to the top and into the unforgiving boulders. Blindly groping for a path toward the closest bank, his mind wailed: How could this be possible? What was he going to do when he ran out of breath? Had his friends found a way to safety?
Questions for another lifetime.
He groped for a rock, pressure building in his lungs beyond what he could stand; he needed a sweet gulp of oxygen, and he needed it
