PrologueI knew I was dreaming again. I could feel the warm silkiness of the water around me as I moved through it, upwards, towards where it was light. I surfaced, and I felt a little surprised by it. I was completely dry. I moved forward, and saw that I was in some sort of grotto, separated from the rest of the world by blue shadows and starlight. There was a man on the shore, bent over, huddled, muttering to himself. I walked through the water towards him, feeling the wetness recede from my body the closer I came to him. I watched my own hand reach out for him. "Let me help you," I heard myself say. The man curled up into an even smaller ball, and seemed almost to be sobbing. I approached once more, closer this time, my hand almost touching him. "Please," I began again, "let me help you -" The suddenness of his response was startling, as he came up, whirling, batting my hand away from him. Something, a symbol, appeared in the center of his forehead, where mystics claim the third eye rests, and the symbol glowed so brightly I could not see. He became a monster . . . I awoke.
I hate waking up like this. My heart raced within my chest, and I found myself gasping for breath. I had returned to my apartment, my bed, to the drone of the fan nearby. Despite the sultry heat, my skin was cool with fear, and I could feel the bitter spikes of adrenaline fading from my gut. An itch, a slight tingle really, tickled me from inside my skull. About where the third eye would be. Not for the first time, I seriously considered keeping a dream journal. But I'd gotten out of such habits when I was with him. I curled up onto my side, facing the blast of air from the fan, and thought of the creep who had been my last boyfriend. So clean cut, so good-looking, in an all-American, white-bread, Superboy sort of way . . . no one knew, or guessed, what lay behind that exterior. A monster in the Knight-in-Shining-Armour's clothing . . . That got me to thinking about the dream again. I'd had it before . . . shit, I realized, I'd had it several times. The man who became a monster with such human eyes. I rolled over onto my back again - curling up was too hot in this heat. As the fan dried the sweat of sleep from my skin, I considered what I knew of the dream. Always, it was the same - I'd rise through blood-warm water to a secluded shrine and see the man. I would approach him, offer help -- (why? Why does he need help?) -- and he would spurn my offer, wordlessly, transforming into a beast. Then I would awaken. I sat up, making my decision. It was time to get back into the habits I'd had before I met Ryan. Reaching for paper and pencil, I recorded the dream.
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