Tuesday, Jan. 18, 2005 - 16:46

Hello gentle Reader.

The following dream is probably the worst I’ve ever had… For those that know the background to it all, I’m sure you’ll understand as you read on.

I wake finding that it is morning. I lay in bed, on my side. I’m able to see the bedroom window. Morning sunlight radiates through the glass, lighting the venetian blinds and creating a fluid kaleidoscope of light and shadows on the bedroom ceiling.

I feel warm and content. I’m aware of a presence beside me. As I lay there, soaking up the lazy, sleepy joy of waking to this morning, I feel him move beside me. He slides closer, one arm going around my waist and pulling me to him. His other arm is folded under his body somehow, against the mattress.

I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. Warmth floods through every part of my being. I can feel that he is aroused; it is pressed against my lower back. This makes me feel satisfied in a deeply contented, yet excited way. I feel as though I could never grow tired of waking to mornings such as this one.

He nuzzles the nape of my neck and his free hand slips up my waist to gently toy with my nipple; he knows just where to touch me – it’s uncanny. I laugh as he tickles me just a little. I roll onto my back, trying to defend myself, laughing as he persists with his ‘attack’.

Michael is laughing, too; a peculiar giggle that doesn’t seem to belong to someone of his stature and build. And yet, it is so indicative of the cheeky side of his nature.

We wrestle – I lose. Again. Then, oddly, I see that Blue (my cat who died in October 1998) is sitting by the bed, looking up at me. I get out of bed and take her to the kitchen to feed her. I don’t recall much of that process... but I remember returning to the bedroom, and what I found…

Michael is lying on his back on the bed. The covers are all messed up. There is a fine spray of blood on the wall, above his head. Sitting on top of him is Simon. He has a length of what looks like barbed wire in his hands, and it is wrapped around Michael’s throat. Michael is clearly quite dead.

Simon stares at me. I can say nothing. And then somehow he and I exchange places; I am now perched on top of Michael’s body, and the wire is in my bloodied hands. Simon is standing – innocently – in the doorway of the room, staring at me.

“I always thought we were kind of the same,” Simon began. “And see …? We are the same…”

I understood his meaning: ’I killed Michael,’ I thought to myself.

“Death is the gift that lasts, Jay… it lasts longer than anything - even Love,” Simon explained. “So stay dead, Jay… stay dead.”

We’d swapped places again … only now I was laying on the bed, Simon was on top of me, and the length of barbed wire he held in his hands was wrapped tight around my neck. I could feel the teeth of the wire puncture and rip through skin and flesh, while at the same time restricting my ability to breathe.

My eyesight seemed to darken and grow hazy and the sound of waves, or so it seemed, thundered in my ears… and then I realised I was safe, secure and in one piece, curled up in bed as the morning sun shone against the window and the blinds.

I could feel him lying close beside me. He stirred and slid towards me, his arm encircling my waist and drawing me closer to his body. He was soft and warm with sleep. I could feel his breath at the back of my neck. It made me tingle and ache all over. And as his dick hardened, delight engulfed me. His little kisses moved up my neck then along the jaw-line until he came to my lips…. And that was when I realised something was terribly, terribly wrong….

My eyes opened and instead of Michael’s face, I turned round to find it was Simon lying beside me. Am not certain how, but I extracted myself from his grip and got out of the bed. The bedroom had now changed and looked like Simon’s room had looked when he lived here. But I was disorientated ad very confused; I didn’t understand how it had happened… how had he got here? I didn’t really understand where ‘here’ was…

I knew, then, that I was dreaming. I said as much out loud. But Simon shook his head and gave a strange half-smile, as if he had some secret he wanted to share.

“You’re not dreaming…. I am,” he told me. And he stood up from the bed with a length of barbed wire in his hands.

At which point everything faded to black and I woke up.

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