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Fic: Sick of Dreaming in Black and You 1/1

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  • Rebecca
    Title: Sick of Dreaming in Black and You Author: Sourspunk101, aka, Rebecca Rating: G, cause all of my little ficlets are safe... so far. Summary: Um, just
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 8, 2001
      Title: Sick of Dreaming in Black and You
      Author: Sourspunk101, aka, Rebecca
      Rating: G, cause all of my little ficlets are safe... so far.
      Summary: Um, just read it.
      Disclaimers: Story's mine, character's not. damn it.
      Archive: Ask and ye shall receive.
      Feedback: Of course!
      Notes: I think i'll just stop trying to write stories all together,
      and stick with short pieces like these. --not that these are any
      better, but they're a whole lot easier to write, ya know? Especially
      when you lack time (not to mention the talent) to write them. I'll
      leave the actual plots and whatnot to the proffesionals. :)
      AN2: again, sorry about the typos. I hate that I don't have the time
      or energy to re-read this stuff and check over for mistakes. *shrugs*
      Just, well,--sorry.

      Seven nights ago, in a half awake, half asleep stupor, I think I
      called out your name, because I was scared, and I was tired of being
      chased around in my nightmares all night long. And it was a cry for
      help, definitely, and I was half-awake, and I was half asleep, but my
      mind said all of me was with you, and I would wake up completely, and
      you would be there, holding me, kissing me on the forehead, telling
      me everything is fine.

      And I woke up shivering and sweating at the same time, the sheets
      stuck to my thighs, and a breeze blowing through the open window. All
      was silent except the hum of the electricity through the walls, and
      the half-lit room by falsified light from the outside showed me that
      it was just me here and only me, and that it had been me all along.

      I'm not even sure if there were ghoulish things in the night chasing
      me around my subconscious. Something tells me there wasn't, because
      you weren't there again, and that's the real nightmare, and I feel
      like I'm still in it.

      I pulled my pillow tight against my chest and clenched my fist and
      supressed a scream. 'I'm so sick of this earth-shattering emptiness'
      is what I didn't scream. 'I hate myself for losing everything that
      was important to me', I didn't scream. I didn't scream that I just
      wanted a deliverance in the Creedish Death Cult since of the word.

      I woke up again only six mornings ago. 5:45 and the sun was just
      rising and my lips were still mouthing your name. I'm not sure how I
      keep getting out of bed everyday. I sure as hell don't know why.

      You told me how you were suffering through insomnia and it gave me
      random flashbacks of when I was too --still am. Upset, sometimes
      crying out of frustration, always unable to sleep, occasionally
      curled in a ball wondering why my stomach always felt like an
      erupting volcano -healing factor or no.

      (And we've grown up so much since then, haven't we, you fucking

      And I would just turn over and over and tangle myself in thoughts and
      sheets --so much that you couldn't tell which was which any longer,
      because they all just ended up tired and frustrated. And everything
      was just clockwork in the most serious way. Watching digital numbers
      gain a few bars, lose a few bars. Watching big hands move and being
      eclipsed by small hands and moving on again, around and around. I
      just couldn't feel anything during the day, because the day wouldn't
      turn into tomorrow fast enough.

      And five mornings ago, I was running through some trails in the woods
      out behind the mansion, and there were flowers that smelled pretty,
      and woods that creaked in the wind. There was a lake that would
      correctly say your name if I rented a plane and wrote it in smoke,
      backwards, across the cyan sky.

      I watched the sun rise slowly, preparing myself to four more days of
      missing you. That's the plan; and when you come back, and when I see
      you, and hold you close, and pull out my notes detailing exactly why
      you are the most beautiful, spectacular, perfect person in the entire
      world; when I'm telling you how no one else will ever be you, could
      ever be you; when I'm telling you that you are my forever factor in
      500,000 words or less, I'll describe my perfect Alaskan Sunrises. How
      beautiful they are, and how the sky is a million different colors
      that even Crayola couldn't dream of. You'll understand too, because
      we understand each other. We compliment each other, and we complete
      each other.

      Three days until your return, and my only true regret in life is that
      I never realized all of these things about you before. Maybe I was
      blinded, blinded by all of the good, which you radiated off of
      yourself like waves in my direction. Nothing like you, nothing this
      pure and *perfect*, had ever crossed my path before. So I denied it,
      choosing to block it all out in the fear that I would one day wake
      up, and it'd all be gone. You'd be gone.

      I took up with Jeanie, and that was the worst mistake of my life. And
      I've made so many, and I know I don't deserve you, but I'm greedy, so
      damn selfish. My eyes opened and I saw everything that had been
      staring me in the face this whole time.

      You weren't a dream, but you *could* disappear. Too bad I had to
      learn that the hard way.

      Two more days, and I have even taken to wearing a watch lately. Since
      you left. And the clock seems to always go so extremely slow. Nothing
      is ever fast enough waiting for you, and nothing is slow enough when
      we are together.

      You're back now. And nothing describes the way our lips congregate
      and convene, a divinity unlike any other I have ever felt. Every time
      our bodies entwine, pretzel in each other's warmth, I embark down a
      road of enchanting wonder, my own Pilgrim Progress, if you will.
      Certainly finding in you a beautiful unforeseen heaven, where the
      streets aren't paved in gold, but laid in the harmony of our romance.
      One so firm-rooted in love and need and commitment, one so devoid of
      hurt, fear, or the lecherous fascination that creep within both, that
      I reconsider my stance on a God, as no other could produce something
      like my Marie.

      Our conversations surely appear to be a lingual wall only we can
      surpass in a natural understand. I would tell you, "I really believe
      we are shedding boundaries," but you already know. You see the
      crooked mold of almost youthful lust and the growing tree of a
      forever love. You see the disintegrating stereotypes of an
      unconceptualized ideal relationship and see us for what we truly are –
      lost without one another.

      We have sliced our hearts in half and traded pieces, sewing them to
      our original ventricles and replacing the new creation back in our
      respective ribcages. We hold and protect each other, give each other
      life and renewal, hope and strength, and I love you more deeply than
      I have ever loved anyone before to my knowledge of memory. This is
      the incredible woman I'm going to spend an eternity and beyond with.
      This is my forever factor. This, ladies and gentlemen, is my precious
      and beautiful Marie.

      And now I am back at the lake behind the mansion, near the edges of
      the spirited woods. Inhaling the deep scents of flowers that remind
      me of the sweet aroma of your gorgeously soft hair; I sit on a rock
      and put my feet in the water and tell myself I'm never going to lose
      something important to me again.

      ******************** *********************

      ******************** *********************

      Did this make any sense to you guys? Urgh. I REALLY need to get some
      sleep, you guys. Haven't slept in over 60+ hours (hence the mention
      of insomnia, maybe?). And the traveling bit isn't helping any. Here's
      a bit of free information for you people, flying to 7 different
      countries within a week and a half is no fun at all. Especially when
      you have to lug around a pet monkey named Boomerang. *shakes head*
      That's just a whole `nother can of tomatoes that I do NOT want to
      open up right now….
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