Pt. 4: Perchance to Dream
As I walk through the shelves of Malory's Libarium Obscruram, my eyes scan the titles on the spines of the books I pass. I don't recognize any of them, and some of them seem to be in languages I've never seen before. I feel disoriented for a moment as I make my way down the stairs into the Antiquary.
The stairs wind down for several flights, until I'm looking at a cross section of my apartment, like a movie set, or a doll house with a side removed. A wall runs down the middle of the scene, dividing it in half. On the left side, Claire and Greg are fucking. Claire kneels on the bed with her hands pressed against the wall, her ass in the air. Greg stands behind her, gripping her waist as he fills her from behind. There is no sound, but Claire's face is clearly frozen in a scream of ecstasy as the pair move in slow motion.
I am sitting in my bed with my back to the right side of the wall, exactly opposite Claire. I am naked and my fingers are buried between my legs. Even in slow motion, I can tell that I am frantically working myself into a powerful orgasm. My face is clenched in a silent moan. Seeing myself in the third person like this is surreal and disorienting. I feel like I am watching a silent film at a quarter speed.
A voice I recognize, but can't place speaks in my head, "are you having fun, Bella?"
The deep voice flows over me, like warm honey. It is rich and wonderful and commands my attention.
"You are coming into your power, Belladonna, like your mother before you."
The scene fades and I am in darkness. I blink and there is a faint circle of light around me, as if I were standing next to a small campfire in a dark woods. I can just make out the forms of hooded figures, silhouettes forming a ring around me. Their features are indistinct.
"Others will try to use you, as they used your mother," the voice speaks in its soothing timbre.
I am naked and lying on my back, holding my knees tightly, my thighs spread wide. Another set of hands firmly grip my waist, holding me down and pulling me close. Looking up, I see a man I do not recognize. His face is indistinct and his features are unclear, or perhaps out of focus. He enters me and my back arches to accept his thrust. His thrusts develop a consistent rhythm and our breaths sync to the pulse in loud exhalations. At the peripheral of my vision, the hooded figures begin to clap in time to his thrusts. Somewhere, a woman is chanting in a language I don't recognize. My conscious self is paralyzed with the horror and absurdity of what is happening while my body tilts its head back in a silent moan.
Looking up at stars between the treetops, constellations consume my vision. I am floating bodiless in the void again. The voice returns to me.
"They will use you for who you are, but it need not be so." The voice speaks in a voice which comforts me and calm washes over my formless mind.
"I will send you a guide, to protect you," the voice continues, "Now wake!"
I bolt upright in the bed, gasping. Usually my dreams fade within a few moments of waking. This one stays painfully clear in my mind. I do my best to shake the images anyway. I start my morning routine. I shower and brush my hair and teeth, as usual. I pick out a black thong and a matching black bra. Comfort is my priority. I throw on a grey sweater and a pair of jeans. With my boots on, I start to feel normal again.
Calm arrives with a cup of coffee. The Sumatran roast is dark with low acidity and works perfectly as a French press. I sip my coffee without breakfast today. My stomach turns at the thought of solid food. Claire walks into the kitchen alone, and I figure that Greg didn't stay the night.
I can surmise from her moans that last night was an outlier in Claire's sex life, but my experiment demands that I ask about her dreams before I check which sachet was placed under her pillow.
