The Gorgeous Incubus
Have you ever had a dream so beautiful that if somehow you knew that that was heaven you would kill yourself? I have, I do. But is not heaven is hell and I will fast end my existence just to be there.
Dreams are creation of the subconscious, a message from our self. Some people received messages from their god trough dreams. People had lost their mind with scary nightmares. Dreams are doors that communicate us to other worlds, dimensions. They are ways to leave this almost flat world and visit others realms, others entities.
I sat by the edge of the bed staring at my black sandals, loving the monotony of my life.
Every day the same; wake up in the morning, High-school, skip a class or two with some friends, wink an eye to my ugly biology professor to ‘forget’ about his escapee, walk in the school’s running tracks while singing my favorites philosophical sons, shy my way out of my guys friends and love interest, go home watch Friends, have some lunch, art class, watch the Simpsons, read my current book, and just before sleep ask god why he let me survive it yet again, no answer ever came from that question.
I asked to my empty room, “What’s your name?” No answer.
Gabriel… was a whisper in my head like always and like always I looked around the room. It was almost all the time Gabriel. Should I be afraid? The name sounded scary on itself, even though I didn’t know the meaning of it. Or if this was only in my head, if so I sure had a love for that name. If not a love for that name was to be born that day.
“Hi” I salute the god, or what I tough was a god and went to sleep.
As always I was excited –to say the least- about going to bed. Dreams are the best parts in my daily life. I have always been able to control my dreams in a way, but I just had learned to really control them completely.
I was a dreamer, that’s how I called myself; a citizen of dreamland. But I always wonder how a person who lives in dreams is called.
This night it was different I found myself opening my eyes in the darkness of my room. My eyes were half open, but they wouldn’t open or close completely. My body felt heavy and the little movements I did came slow and with lots of strength.
Something lay on top of me for a moment, I knew it was nothing ‘real’ nothing tangible, or alive. A sigh escaped me and this being sat by the edge of my bed, giving me his back. Even though I couldn’t actually see him I could describe him as the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life till that day.
I didn’t know what to think of this, what kind of dream was this? I was still in my bed; I was still in my room.
He was looking around my room, his body very still while sitting on my bed; he moved his head inspecting the room as if to learn every corner of it. Then his head snapped to me, He was demon!... no I knew I was wrong the moment the thought cross my mind, not a Mara, not a demon, he was an incubus. He brushed the back of his hand on my cheek and I flinch trying to move away but couldn’t. His touch was not of a human touch, as his hands went down my cheek the feeling came from inside my skin and not on top as it would usually feel a touch, and I didn’t want to fight him anymore. My hand twitch as I wanted to touch his face, his expression was not sad or grimace but something that looked a lot like it. I wanted to touch his face but he was holding my writs down.
How many hands does he have? I had asked myself feeling as he touched my body in too many places at the same time; the sensation was close to pain, but closer to pleasure. It felt as if something under my skin brushing and moving the way a hand does on top. I bowed and moved my body as much I could, which was not much. I wanted out of that dream!
Is a dream, I’ll wake up when I hear the number 3. 1..2...3.
I looked to my electronic clock, my usual way to get out of dreams, but it was turned the other way so I couldn’t see the numbers. If I could see the clock instead of the time it would say D:RE A.M. (Dream) and I would wake up right away.
Just a dream. I can control it… I’m safe and by myself.
The demon touched my stomached slipping up my shirt. His nails where pointy and black, scratching on my abdominal skin. It was too much, too much… I choked my head fast bring my legs up and down kicking the air. I started to cry, but I’m not sure if I was really scared anymore or if I was crying for something else.
The tears caressed my cheek down to my neck then disappeared on my bed.
Please please please… I repeated it and repeated it, kicking my feet.
I gasped in surprise, that was not a thought of mine. I looked around the room with my half open eyes, the demon was still there, I could see him only if I didn’t try to look at him.
The thought –not mine- was not exactly demanding but curious. Sounding almost human, almost like any of my friends asking for something they think already know the answer, and they liked it.
I knew I wanted him to go away to stop, but the thought never came. It was just too much, I wanted to die. I would have preferred to die. It actually felt like dying, if dying was a pain pleasure sensation that takes you to hell but protects you from it. If that was dying then I was dying. And I wanted to stay dead.
I don’t want this to happen… I don’t want to, the thought came to me as a plead. I don’t want to remember.
Then you won’t.
My eyelids felt heavy as I opened my eyes to the morning sun in my room,
“Leila, wake up lunch is ready!” somebody was in my room, it was my sister. She left my bedroom and I drift back to sleep, my eyes half open and my room was back into darkness. It all happened again, more sensations, more pain, but I can’t recall any detail or moment I it was just the remnant of the feelings.
I awoke and threw myself fast out of bed to the floor. I stood up and glared at the bed.
“Fucking shit! Fucking fuck!” I pushed my fingers in my hair, pulling a little. “That’s was not…” Breath in, breath out, j… just fucking breath!
I put each my hands on my waist and run it on my belly making a circle. I gasped in surprise before looking down my body; I was naked!
“Shit, shit, shit!” I looked around my bed, under my sheet and nothing of my pajamas.
I looked at my wrist half hoping to find marks, but nothing but the memories. Memories that haunted me every dreamless night.
I crouched on the floor hugging my knees close to me. Oh my God, I want to die… I want to die. I cried not being able to hold myself. I felt empty
I want to die!.
Don’t… his voice came to me the moment I thought of him. The memories were blurred but I wanted to hold to them. I didn’t want to forget anymore but eventually with time I did –for a while- then I remembered him back again.
That first time I felt raped but at the same time… I loved it. I wanted to sleep more and not ever come back to this reality.
This happened every other night for a little more than a week.
I am not a dreamer any longer. But I do wonder sometimes; how a person in love with a demon is called. Is love worth the ride to hell?
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