A Dream Of Obsession

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man becomes obsessed over a dream that he will risk anything to achieve.

*This is the first story I have written in over five years. I welcome any and all constructive criticism to help improve my writings.*

Submitted: August 01, 2016

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Submitted: August 01, 2016



The Dream Of Obsession

Thane Stoti Scrimshaw


The tempest raged around me as I stood in the forest with which I was unfamiliar. Rain pelted me with drops so hard that it could have left bruises. Chaos ensued all around in what is normally a very tranquil place. Tranquility will eventually come to me as it does when I have this dream.

And she doesn't disappoint.

The raging tempest of the mind calms as she appears. She is dressed in white. Cliché`, I know, but that is how she comes to me. Her skin is that of polished porcelain. Delicate, yet soft to the touch. Her eyes like crystals shining in the night sky. Her hair as dark as the night sky and as wavy as the roaring oceans. Her lips a shade or two darker than her skin is full of lush and promising of passion. And her voice...I will never forget her voice. A voice of a siren that can lure men to their deaths in the deep. An exotic mix of danger and passion. I feel that I must have her. She is the only tranquility in such a chaotic world.

She calls to me. A musically alluring call that promises regret if I do not answer her. I never find out if I will regret not answering. I always answer willingly, as if she is my puppet master pulling my strings to her bidding. The promise in her voice is all I can hear. Or all that I care about hearing.

I glide up to her as I am under her spell to embrace her. We begin kissing, sparingly at first, but more passionately and more insistently. She throws her head back and moans in ecstasy as I kiss down her neck. She pulls me down to a blanket that has manifested behind her. Maybe it had always been there and I not see it before hand. I don't know. Don't really care either. As we lay down, we begin to disrobe each other expectantly and we make love for the first time. For the thousandth time. It doesn't matter.

I thrust into her, gently at first, then more insistently. She begins to moan with pleasure quietly, but she gets louder. The storm picks back up as we make love, with each erruption of thunder echoing with each time she climaxes. Each one becoming more intense than the last with each burst of thunder rumbling the ground harder and harder. She then rolls me over and mounts me. The rain glistening off of her perfect skin is running down her perfectly rounded breasts. I reach up to rub the rain water into her breasts and massage them as she rides me faster and faster. With one final burst of thunder so loud that the trees in the forest rattle, we both climax hard, and she lays on top of me, as if she is drained. That is fine with me; I am drained as well. The tempest of chaos passes and tranquility flows in with the sounds of peace and harmony.

As we stand up and put our wet clothing back on (I don't care that the clothes are wet and she doesn't either), there is a figure approaching us. It looks like a grizzly bear, but it is difficult to see. For some reason, my vision is blurry, but this figure seems familiar to me. It always does. And just when it comes into focus, I feel an acutely sharp pain in my back and chest followed by a warm wet feeling. Looking down at my chest, I see a blade covered in my blood. My balance begins to waiver. Who could have attacked me from behind? There was only one answer.

I turn around unsteadily, which causes me to loose my balance and fall to my knees. She stabbed me. The siren. My siren. Her face, once full of peace and harmony, is now full of anger and hatred. She says something as my vision fades. I cannot hear what she says, nor can I read her lips to try to piece it together. The dark December of my days has come to this, as it always does. With the fade into total darkness.

This is how the dream ends.

This is how the dream always ends.




I awoke in a cold sweat as I do when I have this dream. My wife is sleeping soundly beside me as per her norm. She rarely sees me in this rattled state. Why do I have this dream of lust, betrayal, and death? Why does this woman always kill me in the end? No, it is not my wife, if you are wondering. No, if she were to betray me, she would at least let me see it coming. She is straight forward in that manner. But why do I dream of betrayal? Why do I dream of this strange woman whom I have never met, a woman who lures me to my death? No, this woman I dream of is not my wife, but someone else entirely.

My wife has a German/Scandinavian ancestry. Light haired and blue eyes. She is a little on the plump side, which doesn't bother me one bit. At least I think it doesn't. We have been married for some time now. We were young once, and in love. We always enjoyed the small things in life. But that changed when I started having these dreams.

I told her about it once. She had told me it was just a nightmare; that I should not eat certain foods and watch horror movies before bed. I know she was just trying to ease my thoughts, but it was a bit condescending. There had been a few nights where she would wake up after I had the same dream and she would see me in the same cold sweat. And again she would be a bit condescending. The last time she woke up and saw me sitting on the side of the bed after that dream, all she told me was to just go back to sleep.

We both knew that wasn't happening, though. Like the other nights like this, I would get up and go to my desk in our home office. There, I would start up a facial recognition program that I had bought after the fifth or sixth time I had the dream and set in the search parameters of all the details that I could recall. Since most of everyone has been captured on some sort of video or photographic footage by now, it should be easy to find my dream siren. It's not. I had a few close calls, but not substantial enough to try to track her down. Did I mention that this software is not on the up and up? No? Well, I know a few people who can get their hands on such programs. I am beginning to think that this one might be a waste of money, but I will continue to use it anyways.

Hours had past without me realizing they had. Time has a funny way of doing that when I am focused on a task. Some may call it obsession. Others may call it a hobby. Sometimes there is a very thin line between the two. For me, it is neither an obsession nor a hobby. It is a burning question that I want to have answered. It is a question that I will have answered.

"How long have you been up this time?" My wife had managed to enter the room without me knowing. Had I been that focused that I close out all awareness of my surroundings? Possibly. It was a bit disconcerting that she can creep up on me like that, but that is a fault with myself.

I looked at the clock on the computer. 7:36 AM. I had been here for a while. "About four and a quarter hours," I replied. I looked up at her and saw that she was dressed and ready to go off to work for the day and I realized that I needed to do the same.

"You're going to be late again," she stated as she walked off down the hallway. She was right. I turned off the computer and headed back to the bedroom to get dressed.

By the time I was finished, my wife was gone. I headed out the door to start my day.




I have a job that routinely requires me to go out of town at least once a week. Not too far out of town, but far enough that at least three hours of the trip is spent on the road. Sometimes longer depending on traffic. This was the day for my out of town trip.

The travel itself on most days is uneventful, as per the norm. Every so often there will be some issues, but nothing that is too bad. On good days, I finish with my business in a short time, then head home. This was not one of those good days.

I started late because I arrived late. My boss was a bit irate about my lack of punctuality. He spent five minutes grilling me on my repeat tardiness over the past several months. I had told him that I wasn't sleeping well, but after the third of fourth time I had used that excuses he had started to get irritated with me. Now he was just angry and told me that if I was late one more time, I would be spending my time in an unemployment line.

Today, I had to deliver specimens to a lab a little further away than normal. Not too much of a big deal, but only if I was on time. Since I am starting late again, and had an ass chewing that cost precious minutes, I left almost an hour later than I needed to get the specimens to the lab that was my destination.

The travel on this day was mired in obstacles. Road construction and wrecks. What would have been a two hour one way drive ended up as a nearly three and a half hour drive. By the time I reached the destination lab, they were closed for lunch. Just my luck. So I had gone to lunch myself.

When I arrived at a diner that was just a small hole in the wall restaurant - the type I preferred - they were just serving their last few customers for the day. Lucky me. So, I headed back out the door. The day was going sour. This was just one bad obstacle after another. Just when I thought it could not get any worse, that is when I saw her.

The HER from my dreams.

The Siren.

My Siren.

She was just as beautiful in reality as she was in my dreams. Her skin that of polished porcelain, reflecting the sun's radiance and making her glow. Her eyes here hidden by a pair of sunglasses and she wore a sun hat, but I could still see her hair. Her dark as night hair coiled in a bun. Her lips just a shade or two darker than her skin, still just as promising as they were in my dream. And she was dressed in a white sun dress. I take out my phone an manage to snap a couple of quick photos of her using as much subterfuge as humanly possible.

"Excuse me, but were you just taking a photo of me?" she asked?

That voice! The Song of the Siren! I believe I have found her. I would walk through Hell and back just for her. Maybe even run through Hell instead of walk. She could ask me to do anything and I would do it gladly; her voice was that beautiful. It was like listening to art.

Then reality hit. She had caught me. I tried to come up with a reason I had my phone pointed in her general direction. Fumbling, I replied in a shaky voice, "I am trying to get signal."

She chuckled at my apparent lie. "Sure you were," she said rather amused. "Come sit with me." She invited me to her table that was outside of the diner. We sat and talked for a what felt like only a few minutes. When my phone rang, I saw that we had been talking for well over two hours. But that is not what bothered me too much. The caller ID told me it was my devil......er, boss.

I dreaded answering, but refusing to do so would have been an automatic termination. He was beyond irate. He gave me a very short time to get the delivery done and get back.

I hung up the phone and, with sadness and reluctance, I bid my Siren farewell. and left to finish my delivery.

The day wasn't total chaos, though. I had a picture of her now. I did not have a name - even though she had mine - but I did have a picture to go on.

No, I'm not obsessed.




By the time I got home, it was almost sundown. My boss was barely civil when I got back, but did not fire me. A plus, I guess. But my wife was less than civil. She wanted to know why it took me so long to make a simple delivery. Add that with her stating that she was right about me being late getting to work and it was all I could do not to shout myself. I'd had a very long day and was ready for it to be over.

On my way to bed, however, I stopped in to my home office and moved the photos I had taken over to my computer to run them through my not so legal software.  Searching a database for a single person in billions with an accurate photo should not take long. Estimated time - 4 hours.

I'm still not obsessed.

I turned off the monitor and let the computer do it's task and headed for bed.

The dream came to me again.

I woke up as I do most mornings in the cold sweat. This time, my wife was not in the bed. I looked at the clock. 4:17 AM. Strange. I got up and headed for the office. There, she sat behind my desk, glaring at my computer. She glanced up at my approach with the look of irritation on her face.

"This obsession with this dream woman has to stop," she said.

"It is not an obsession," I protested. "It is me trying to find an answer."

"It is going to drive you to insanity," she countered. "This is text book obsession." Yes, she is a psychiatrist. Lucky me.

"I just need the answers," I pleaded. "Maybe the dreams will stop if I get the answers."

"And maybe your answers will raise more questions," she replied gently. She got up from behind the desk and came over to me and put her arms around my neck to pull me to her. "I'm worried that this fixation will only leave you with nothing but emptiness. I want you to seek professional help."

I wrapped my arms around her waist. "I have a professional here to help me," I half quipped.

All serious now, she replied that it was against ethical codes for a professional to treat their spouse. So, I agreed to it if only to end the conversation. She left the room and I went over to my computer, only to see that the search had been terminated. Anger started to flow through me, but I curbed it. It is just a slight delay I tell myself. So, I start up the search again and settle in for the long wait.




I wake up to my phone ringing loudly. It was my boss. I looked at the clock. 11:25 AM. Damn! I had fallen asleep at my desk and was extremely late for work. I answered the phone to assure my boss that I would be there, but he told me not to even bother. I was fired. Great. The day was shot to hell. He hung up the phone. I sat the phone down and looked at my computer. There was a post-it note on it from my wife saying she tried to wake me, but I wouldn't budge. And that she terminated my search again, this time deleting both the photos and the software. She also said that she put a password on the computer and would only give it to me when she got home. There was a second note with a phone number written on it. Three guesses as to what it was a number for.

I tell you, I'm not obsessed.

That evening, she came home to find me in the office, as per my norm when I get home before she does. She was surprised to see me working on the computer since she had put a password on it.

She placed her hands on her hips in annoyance and demanded to know how I cracked her password. I had told her that it was easier than she realized. She pressed further and I eventually told her that I had reset the computer back to factory specs. Irate now, she stormed over to me to see what I was doing. She saw that I was re-installing my not so legal software.

"Why is this so important to you?" she asked.

I looked up to her. I really had no answer. How could I answer? If it wasn't important to me, then why even do it? But, for some reason, it was important to me. I had to find how the siren was. I had to find out where she lived. I had to have her.

My wife then asked me if I had called the number she gave me. I told her that I hadn't. She then handed me a piece of paper, saying that she knew I wouldn't and that she took the liberty of making the appointment for me. "Monday afternoon. 1:30 PM. Don't be late."




The weekend came and went. And so did the dream. The dream even started coming to me when I would doze off during the daylight hours. Why did I have this dream? Maybe my wife was right. Maybe I should talk to a professional.

So, as I lay on his chase lounge in his office, I tell him - the psychiatrist - of the dream. Every detail that I can remember. Even about the intimate moments and the following death. He tells me that a dream is only an answer to a question we have yet to figure out how to ask. I knew that much. What I wanted to know was why I was having this re-occurring dream. He responded with a question as to why I think I have this dream. To which I respond that I have no answer. It ended up just being a circular discussion. Then I had told him about my search for this siren. That is when he told me that I was obsessing over a phantom. How many times do I have to tell people that I am not obsessed? More that I think, apparently.

The session ended and I left. I didn't feel that he had helped at all. No, the only thing that can help is her. My beautiful siren.

When I got home, I checked on the search that I had started. Surprisingly, not a match. Anger started to boil up inside. Either the software was not working right or the pictures were not reliable enough. This was not going well. I was about to shut off my computer when I got a notification buzz from my e-mail. Checking it, I saw that I had a friend request on a social media sight that I rarely visit. I rarely visit any of them. I usually delete these types of e-mails, but something stopped me. Looking at the thumbnail of the notification, the pic looked familiar.

Very familiar.

It was her.

My Siren.

She had found me. And she had a name.

I'm still not.......oh, you know this by now.

I answered the request and saw that she had also sent a message that had her number with it, saying she would like to talk to me again. Excitement flooded in me, washing away the anger. I called and we talked. For a long time.

We had talked for so long that I didn't hear my wife come home. She walked in on me talking to her. I said my farewell to her and hung up the phone and addressed my wife.

"I found her," I said cheerfully.

"Good," she replied, looking a bit relieved. "Now you can stop obsessing and get back to normal."

Normal. What was normal? I had been living with this re-occurring dream for so long that it felt normal to me. Now, it will feel abnormal without the dream. I can finally have a peaceful night sleep.

Or so I thought.




The dream still came. This time, more than once. Before I would awaken, I would live that dream multiple times in a night. And every morning, my wife would find me sitting at my computer, typing away. And she would come home to see me talking to her. This went on for a while. My obsession - OK! Shessh! Yes, I am obsessed! There! Happy now? - becoming more and more prominent. I even started going out of town two or three times a month to see her.

It eventually became too much for my wife that I had barely noticed that I had lost her until the divorce papers came. I tried to get her to stay, but she wouldn't. She had said that my obsession with this dream woman was too much for her and I lost her.

She left. She was gone out of my life forever. I should feel distraught. I should feel pain, anger, sadness, and pity. But I felt none of those things. Instead, I felt free.

Free to pursue my lovely siren.

And that is when the pain hit.

I had called her, my siren, and told her that I was free again and if she wanted to go out on a date. She had replied that she had someone already and had been with this guy for several months before we had even met. My entire world came crashing down around me. The tempest returned in full force. This was not happening. I had essentially given up my life to have her.

For the next few nights, I sat alone in the dark without sleep. The dreams had started coming even when I was awake. How can I have her now that I discover that she has someone else? I had to come up with something. I either had to find a way to get over her or I had to have her. I have given up a lot in life. I won't give up now.

I could always wait for her.

Yes, I could wait.

I would talk to her until she felt as I do toward her.

I could wait for that.

......I can wait......

....I have the patience to wait.....

......I can wait......

......I can wa........

......I can..........


....I.....I...I ca.....

NO! I cannot wait! I have to have her! How far do I have to walk to get to Hell so that I can have her? A great distance, perhaps? All she has to do is ask and I will walk through all of creation, Heaven, and Hell just to have her.

So, what do I do to get her?


Get rid of the current suitor.

Yes, get rid of the current suitor. But how? If I do it directly, then it can come back to haunt me. No, I must do a hands off approach. Do I send a prostitute his way? Maybe, but that could also come back to bite me on the ass. Hmmmm......I have to think.....That's when it hit me.

I will hire a hit man.

But first, a little prep work.




Over the course of the next few weeks, I talk to her often. I invite them over to dinner and a few game nights. Sure, I have a couple of friends over as well, but they are just there to keep the awkwardness down. They don't even know my plans, which is for the best. I even take a few photos on a new pay as you go phone that I had picked up a few days prior.

Now a dilemma has arisen. In talking to her suitor, I discover that I actually like this guy. He is a real upstanding individual. That gives me pause in my plan. How can I go through with my deed and harm such a gentleman as this? One look over to my siren puts me back on track. She will be mine.

Days later, I decide to go out of town. Four towns over and two towns up, to a hotel far off the beaten path. It is here that the bulk of my plan will take place.

I check into a hotel room using a false name, and after checking it over, I set up a laptop that I recently purchased to browse the deep web. I discovered that you can get a lot of stuff off of the deep web. It's amazing. Drugs. Women. Men. Guns. Sick pornography. Anything. But for this purpose, I was looking for a hit man.

My search did not take long. I found a site where I can hire them, but there is a catch. They want to meet in person to discuss particulars and payment. That's fine with me. I had suspected as much, thus the reason why I am here.

Two days later, there was a heavy knock at the hotel room door. I get up and walk over to the door and peer through the peep hole. A very large man stood there. I open the door as far as the chain on the door will let me. The man looks down at me  and asks if a Mr. Harvey was present. I wasn't about to give my real name to someone who makes a living on erasing names.

I acknowledge that as my identity and let the bear of a man in. He was huge. A full head and shoulders taller than I am.  And he was almost as wide and as thick as a redwood, though I am willing to bet he was more muscle mass than fat.

He came in and looked the room over, apparently looking for recording devices. Satisfied there was no such devices, he sat down and gestured for me to have a seat as well. I closed the door and took a seat opposite of him at the table.

"I understand you have a problem that needs to be dealt with?" he started by way of an introduction.

To keep myself from being directly involved, I corrected him by saying that my client has a problem that he needs removed.

"We don't do political hits, Mr. Harvey," he replied sternly.

"It's not political. It's personal."

That seemed to satisfy him for the moment. We discussed the particulars and payment until we reached an agreement. It would take nearly the rest of my life's savings, but it would be worth it. She would be mine.

Three days later, I received word that the deed was done and payment was expected. I told him that the payment would be left in the hotel room and that the room will be paid up for another two nights. He agreed and I left for home.




My Siren called me a week after I got back, saying that authorities had just fished her fiancé out of the lake near her house. She was in tears and really needed someone’s shoulder to cry on. That's all I needed to hear. I told her that I would be up there shortly.

She was finally mine. All mine. I told you I would have her. And now I do.

We spent the next several months together. I eventually sold my house and moved in with her. She wanted to keep her house since she had grown up there. No big deal. Like I had said, I would go through Hell and back for her. Life was great. But there was still the dream.

Now, however, the dream was no longer bothersome. Why should it be? I already have the woman of my dreams. The rest simply doesn't matter. I have a new job and a new life. What more could I want.

Oh, yes, life was good. We had a great time. Each day a new adventure. Each night peaceful. And the sex was even better than I had ever dreamt. I felt young again, and alive.

We decided one day to go on a trek through the woods near her house. The forest was as alive as I felt. Peace and tranquility reigned throughout. And that is when the best sexual encounter of my life happened.

I glided up to her and we embraced. I am completely under her spell. We kiss, sparingly at first, but more passionately and insistently in mere moments. A light storm begins to rumble in the distance, but that doesn't matter to either of us. She moans in ecstasy as I kiss her up and down her neck. We begin to disrobe one another as we make our way down to the ground. A light rain begins to fall. Her soft, polished porcelain skin shimmers as it dampens. She lies down and I get on top of her. She guides me into her gently and I begin the thrust, slowly at first. She moans lightly. I start going a bit faster and her moans get louder. The thunder is getting louder, too, as she gets louder. Then a huge rumble of thunder erupts as she climaxes again and again. The rains starts falling harder now, but I do not care. Nor does she. Her climaxes are getting more and more intense as the storm grows stronger. We then switch positions, with her mounting and riding me. The rain running down her soft, perfect breasts make them shimmer in the dim light. I reach up to massage the rain into them as she rides harder and faster, climaxing even more as she does. With one final burst of thunder so loud that the trees and ground shake almost violently, we both climax hard. She then lays on top of me for a few moments, drained. That is fine with me. I am drained, too. The chaos of the tempest fades away, leaving peace and tranquility in it's wake.

We stand up to put our clothes back on and I am momentarily blinded with pain as a what felt like a boulder bashed me in the back of my head. I stumbled forward, nearly loosing my footing in the process. I turn around to see a large, looming figure standing a few yards from me holding a piece of tempered steel in his right hand. I struggled to focus, hoping my vision would clear up soon. As my vision cleared, I realized the tempered steel was a hand gun. And the figure holding it looked like a grizzly bear. That didn't make sense to me. Focusing a little harder, I realized not only what it was, but who it was.

It was the hit man I had hired months ago.

Why was he returning here? Did he have another contract in the area and needed to make sure there were no witnesses? If that was the case, then I have no problem keeping my mouth shut.

I was about to ask why he was here when I felt a rather acute pain in my back and chest. A muscle spasm right now would not be the best of things to happen. I started to get a little light headed. I felt a warm liquid running down my back and chest. I looked down and saw a crimson coated blade protruding from my chest. Who had stabbed me? And why? Staggering, I turned around unsteadily and ended up falling to my knees. I looked up and say my siren, not with sadness, worry, or fear on her face, but anger and rage. Her shirt was speckled in my blood from the thrust of the dagger into my back. In her clean hand was a cell phone. A very familiar cell phone. The one I had used months ago to hire the hit man that was now behind me. I thought I had gotten rid of that when I moved in with her. Apparently, I was mistaken. She threw it down on the ground in front of me. It landed face up with a picture of her dead fiancé’s corpse that was sent to that phone. How long had she known?

Utter shock began to fill me as I realized what had happened. Yes, she had betrayed me, but I had betrayed her first. How could I have not seen this coming? Even worse, I realized that I had made three betrayals: My wife, the fiancé, and the siren. I was so obsessed with the call of the siren that I could not see what I was loosing. She lured me to my death, but only because I wanted to be lured. A sailor on the open sea is a lonely man who can be easily lured by a siren's call. I was not alone, but I willfully answered that call, knowing where it would lead.

Her voice is still a beautiful work of art. I will go through Hell and back for her. And now I am beginning that journey because she had asked. I must go to pay for the debt my deed had wrought upon me.

But she is such a beautiful siren.

Why did I have to dream of her?

Why did she have to be a reality?

My obsession blinded me to the dangers.

Could I have really have waited for her?

Could I........

I could wait.

I can wait for a very long time.

She would be mine, even in my death.

She had to be mine.

She had to be.......

.......she had to......

.......she had......been......mine......

As I faded into darkness, I could hear her say something, yet I still could not understand what she said.

Darkness engulfed me and the dream was over........




...........Or had it really been a nightmare?




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