Out of My Sleep

This morning I awoke from my sleep kind of uneasy. There was a story beginning to form itself in my dreams.

As soon as I rose from my bed I grabbed my notebook and began to write. This is what came out of it:

 

It was never supposed to be more than a one time thing. Yet here I am, pondering the thought of another go round.

I avoided the encounter for some time. Longer, even, than any other scenario like it. While the offer was so enticing, I mentally decided it could go no further.

The advances were remarkably subtle, few and far between. It happened just enough for me to be unusually intrigued. I would greet the invitation with humorous sarcasm but eventually I began to throw my curiosity his way.

It got to the point that there was no probable excuse for why things couldn’t move in the direction that we both clearly wanted. The banter had become more frequent and had me more captivated. The signals sent had gotten to five alarms.

So we took each other up on the agreement to extinguish any stress through one another. No one but I knew how badly I needed a release of tension. Unwilling to get it randomly and without regard for my safety, as I had so often in the past.

While quite interested in what his abilities were, I didn’t expect anything outside of normal. A quick in and out of sorts.

When the time came, it was far more than I bargained. From beginning to end there was this indescribable intensity ripping through us. It was something I had not encountered in all my years. I had passionately profound experiences before, but none of this caliber.

The whole thing rendered me speechless. Relaying the incident, I was unable to give a formidable description. I was in a state of satisfying confusion. Pleased with the episode that played in my head.

However, that is where I must have gone wrong. Allowing my mind to remember the extreme power struggle; as if two forces were battling one another. Drawn to replay every word, every movement, every heavy breath.

This was not how things should go. Losing my train of thought to the re-occurrence of his hands. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t possibly do it again. Or could I?

 

The thought stopped there. Not sure where I should go with it. There is actually a story I was writing some time ago, called Mind Games, that this may play into, but I am not completely sure.

Any suggestions?

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