Olivia breaks me from my thoughts when she groans in what sounds like fear and I lean over her body to brush the hair from her face. My movement is slow and intentional, making sure that I don’t apply enough pressure to wake her but just enough to make sure that she feels it.
“Shh. I’m right here, Livie. Right here.” My whispers are barely loud enough for me to hear myself over her frightened breathing but I know she can sense my voice.
Her brows pinch up in worry, and her chest starts to rise and fall a little faster and harder. Her reaction to her nightmares always seems to be the same every time, which causes me to assume to scenario she’s concocting and just how real it might seem to her, repeating the same fucking terror over and over again.
I let my hand slide down from her forehead and over temple, tucking her hair behind her ear before pressing gently into the little cove right behind her earlobe. Using just the pad of my index finger, I start to trail down. I lightly trace over the fluttering pulse in her neck, listening as her breathing turns from frantic to a little more steady. I then slide my finger down to her collarbone, gliding over the soft fabric of hernight shirt. Her eyes loosen up from how tight they’ve been shut, her lips start to part, and her body starts to relax under my touch. And then I slide my finger over the curve of her clothed breast, scraping gently against her pert nipple and I circle it a few times. Now her breathing starts to tick up again but this time . . . it’s from pleasure, not from torment. At this moment, before I continue my movements, I lean in and blow very gently across her face. She gasps as the air hits her skin and then I continue to slide my finger downward, over her ribcage and down to her belly button.
Any moment now…
She moans. That’s my girl.
I won’t continue any further. I don’t have to. I know that she’s better now; the nightmare she was suffering from has now twisted into something she can manage without feeling suffocated and when she wakes, I know she’ll feel the ache that I just provided her which I guess is still a torture of sorts, but I digress.
She starts to stir a bit, eagerly chasing my touch but my job here is done. I reach down for the covers and start to pull them back over her body, knowing she’ll wake up any moment now, likely just to go back to sleep. But before I stand from the bed, I lean over her and run my thumb over her bottom lip. She’s breathing so gently now; quiet little breathes of air brush against my thumb as I swipe back and forth. My dick hardens; she is so fucking perfect it’s sickening. I lean in, lowering my mouth to her ear. I breathe in and then exhale slowly, still pressing my thumb to her lip before whispering into her ear.
“I am the only nightmare who gets to haunt you, little reckless.” I check the time on my phone, seeingthat it's well past midnight and nearly into the morning hours. I lean into her temple and press a kiss there. “Happy birthday, Livie,” I whisper and then I leave, blowing out her candle before abandoning her in the dark.
15
OLIVIA
“I’m scared to close my eyes; I’m scared to open them! We’re gonna die out here!” — Heather Donahue, The Blair Witch Project (1999)
I'm trapped again.
But somehow, even though I can’t move, I know that I’m not actually stuck, bear trap or otherwise—like all the other dreams before. It still feels like it though; sharp claws gripping my ankles as warm blood slithers down my feet. Genuine fear is barely the snap of a thread away and though my body senses danger, my brain is telling me it’s not real; I know I’m only dreaming. Still, I feel like I might die here. Death lingers in the air.
I’m at the same cliff I always find myself at in these dreams, nearing the edge but not quite close enough to fall. The wind brushes against my skin and it feels like a thousand tiny little razor blades cutting the surface. The cold air clings to me but I feel like I’m on fire.
I want to scream but I try my best to remain calm as snowflakes flutter down from the black hole of a sky, and I try to find an escape to the feeling of beingtrapped. I don’t mean to struggle. I know it’s not real; I can’t help it. But just as I feel my body about to give up, my brain about to give in to the illusion that’s being crafted, the air changes. Something shifts between the moments of knowing that I’m living in a false world created by a conscience that seems hell bent on torturing me and the reality that maybe I actually like the torment. But regardless of the war inside my head, it’s undeniable that I feel a new presence with me this time.
Something is out there. Something is always out there but this time, it’s different. It feels familiar. It feels safe, in a way. Evil and brutal, but safe.
I anticipate the scream that normally echoes right about now in the nightmare, but it doesn’t come. Instead, I feel a calming touch caress my temple and slip behind my ear. Like the wind is seducing me into tranquility and suddenly, the invisible trap around my feet is gone. Again, there’s no sign of the pain I’d felt, and I sigh in relief when I don’t find any blood either.
Normally, this is where I’d start to run, to flee the danger that lurks around me and wanting to run from the grip that seems to hold me here; capturing me with no knowledge as to why. But I find myself standing still instead because for some reason, I don’t feel like I’m in danger. I let my intentional breathing ground me as I look around, waiting for the wind to further guide me, or whatever it is that’s protecting me. Because that's what it feels like, protection.
Suddenly, something fleeting greets me again. Another gentle touch, maybe. Or maybe it’s just the wind once more. Whatever it is, it’s serenity to the fright that anchors me in this nightmare, counteracting thefear I know I should be reacting to. And as I wait—not exactly sure what it is I’m waiting for—I feel the trail of goosebumps that forms from the side of my neck and down over my collarbone, trickling over my skin like ice.
And then it goes lower, and now I feel trapped to whatever is controlling me right now. Pleasure blooms in my core as the feathering touch goes lower, over my breast and then…
Oh. I find myself letting out a small moan as I close my eyes and succumb to whatever is creating this feeling. I know that I am physically alone, still standing in the same spot as before but something or someone is here with me. I just can’t see them.
I bite my lip, feeling wetness pool between my thighs as my nipple tightens at the invisible touch that incinerates me; heating me up and lighting my body ablaze. And then, a small burst of wind covers my face, cooling me down and simultaneously providing me comfort. I gasp and before I know it, I’m yearning for more. Whatever is happening, I want more of it.
That’s when I realize that I am no longer standingnearthe cliff, but instead I’m teetering on the actual edge. Though I’m not afraid. Or maybe I am. The undeniable race of my heart is the tell that I am experiencing the very fucked up version of being afraid . . . the one that sets my body ablaze with a rapturous ecstasy. But my desire for more is short-lived because within seconds the feeling is ripped from me. The pleasure I’d been yearning for morphs into pain as something grips me by the neck, squeezing it tight and causing me to lose my breath. I struggle for a moment and right before I feel myself fade into oblivion…
I’m awake.
Gasping for air and gripping at the blanket covering my chest, I start to feel the embarrassment creep in. The shame and humiliation from what I know to be my truth settles deep. Because I know I can never escape the pleasure and desire from my own fear. The dream went from the horrifying realization that I was about to submit to death as I usually do, only for it to change into the harmonious epitome of a beautiful nightmare; one of the many that end with me saved and alive but scared and aroused.
I take a deep breath before slowly skating my hand over my body, wanting to chase the high by following the same trail I’d felt in the dream. It’s something I know I’ve conjured in sleep, though not sure of who or what would be the cause of it in my dreams. But this time it felt more real than it ever has and I crave to fulfil that need for release.
I use my fingers to trace the trail, starting behind my ear then over my collarbone before slipping over my nipple. I let my finger linger there for a moment, closing my eyes and breathing in; wishing for the cold sting of icy air that I’d felt in my dream. I slowly circle my nipple before I continue downward. But I don’t stop where it stopped in my sleep. I keep going, slowly sinking my hand into my shorts and under my panties.
And when I touch myself, I confirm that I am in fact heavily turned on. I’m so fucking wet, it’s embarrassing.
But it feels so fucking good.
