At night she sat alone on her bed, thinking of what she knew was about to come. When she closed her eyes, when her body relaxed and settled after a long day. Then she would see him again, then she would be taken to a world not her own. But maybe it was her own world. It was her dream, even though she felt she had no control over it. Things happened she could not do anything about. Things happened she had no say in. And if it was her dream, shouldn't she be able to stop it? Take action over events she experienced in her own dream?

But she didn't. She couldn't. And that frightened her. Even weeks later, she was still scared of it. Scared of him. She feared what he could make her do in her own dream. She was scared of what he did to her. Of what he made her feel. She had never wanted this. Her waking life was perfectly normal. She had a job that she liked. A husband who loved her. And a dog she tolerated. She was fine.

But then, she had never felt more alive than when she was sleeping. Her heart had never beaten as fast as when she thought about what was going to happen when she closed her eyes. The utter thrill when he took her places she could only dream about... she was dreaming about.

She didn't know who he was. She'd asked, more than once. But every time he'd laughed and said, "You know. You made me." But she didn't. She couldn't. How could she create a world so different from her own. In primary school her teacher once advised her to use more imagination. She'd never had much imagination to begin with. Look at her life: it was all perfectly normal. All regular. The only thing missing were 2.4 children and she'd be a text book example of a normal life. She never thought she'd accomplish anything special, never felt the need to. So where was this dream coming from?

That was what scared her the most. She knew it wasn't her dream. She knew she hadn't him up, created an entire world... universe in her mind.

But still, the excitement was far greater than her fears. When he asked her to do something or to go somewhere with him, she never said no. She didn't even hesitate. She had absolutely no control over her own actions and emotions when she was with him. She was scared of him, but she also trusted him. For some reason, even the very first night she dreamed of him she trusted him.

She lay down in bed and closed her eyes, waiting until she would see him again.


I've been waiting for you.

She smiled. As expected, he stood there, this time casually leaning against a lamp post. She had no idea where they were, but it didn't look like her century.

1914, he answered her question. Yes, apparently, he had the ability to read her mind. Definitely not something she would have chosen if it were her dream.

It is your dream. I am a mere fantasy. He swung around the lamp post and stopped only inches away from her. Her breath hitched. He smiled brightly. Of course he'd read that thought too.

He leaned in a bit closer, but stopped just as his lips were about to touch hers and stepped out of her personal space. I know what you want, he stated casually.

Your name, she automatically replied He wasn't the only one who could be cheeky.

You have not yet given me one. Sometimes he could be plain annoying too.

He mock fainted and leaned against the lamp post. Ouch, that hurts.

No it doesn't.

He stilled his faint and smiled. You're right. But I could try.

A thought suddenly entered her mind. Can you?

He frowned. Can I what?

Hurt. Can you feel pain? She walked closer to him and saw apprehension in his eyes. Because, as you say, you are a mere dream of mine, nothing more. You shouldn't be able to feel pain. She stepped up to him and was about to pinch him to test her theory but he was faster and easily avoided her.

Says who? He went to stand behind her, his chest pressed against her back and his hands on her arms ran shivers through her body. She swallowed the moan that was threatening to break from her.

Everybody, she eventually managed, although her answer came a bit strained as her breathing shallowed.

And you always listen to everybody?

That thought made her mood turn sour immediately and she moved out of his arms. She did listen to everybody. She had listened to her father when he told her what to study in college. She had listened to her mother when she told her to marry this really great man they'd met at the office party. And she had listened to her husband when he told her that now that he was in management and they had more than enough money to pay for their house on just his salary, she might consider becoming a housewife. Yeah, she'd listened to everybody.

She tensed a bit when she suddenly felt him reach for her hand. None of that now, he admonished. That's not why we're here.

Grateful for the mood change she smiled and looked around. Why are we here?

Patience. He held up a finger and looked at the sky, apparently waiting for something.

Suddenly a loud thundering noise resonated through the street they were standing in. So loud she nearly jumped in his arms out of shock. What the bloody hell was that? She held her free hand over her chest and felt her heart beating rapidly.

That, he pointed to a light flying not far away from them through the sky, is transportation.

Transportation to where? She knew she wouldn't get an answer. He never answered her questions, that didn't stop her from trying, though. He only smiled and pulled at her hand.

While they were running through the streets of what she now recognised was 1914's London, she noticed people rushing in their houses and sirens bellowing through the city. It hit her. Are we safe?

Of course we are, unless you were planning to kill yourself in your own dream. He didn't look at her, too busy following the light in the sky. I needed a diversion, so what better than an air raid?

So I'm guessing that thing there in the sky, she pointed at the light beam, not caring he wasn't watching her point, is a space ship?

He didn't turn, but smiled. Smart girl.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. Well, it was a dream. So why not?


When they finally reached their destination, or what she hoped to be their destination, she wasn't only exhausted from running, but cranky and covered in way too much mud for her own liking. Who said you can't get dirty in a dream?

We're here. He smiled brightly.

Well, she'd have to take his word for it, because all she could see were trees, more trees and bushes that looked like trees. So, either it was a very, very tiny space ship, or... She saw him role his eyes. It's cloaked.

And yes, seconds after him saying so the air around them shifted and shimmered and then, where moments before there was nothing but trees was now a metal ship. Well, she thought it was metal. Maybe some sort of alien alkaloid or something.

He raised an eyebrow. You're thinking too much.

I'm always thinking too much.

He snorted and stepped up to the ship where after some fumbling with controls on the outer hull a door opened. Milady. He motioned her inside.

Wait a minute, if I'm dreaming, shouldn't we be able to just jump to wherever we're going?

And ruin the experience? he countered, seemingly annoyed. Now get inside before the nosy neighbours come.

Fine, she answered, still not entirely convinced why they couldn't just pop somewhere.

But that thought vanished immediately as she stepped into the ship. Her mouth fell open as she gaped at her surroundings. This was definitely not something she could have come up with

Stop thinking that. He walked past her and said in her ear, you have a lot more imagination than most people.

This is your ship?

I take it you approve?

Well, never seen a space ship before, but wow.

From the outside the ship appeared no larger then a small house, but the inside was huge.

Why haven't I never seen this before? she asked as he pulled her more inside the ship.

And ruin the surprise? Come on, you haven't seen anything yet.

He lead her through a series of corridors, each more beautiful than the one before. Everywhere were dark green walls adorned with light blue engravings and symbols she had never seen before. All of them had a different shading of light, making them appear even more mysterious and magical.

When they were in a large round room, he stopped and turned to her. Don't move. And then he left her alone.

When she was about to move to the door he had disappeared through, the walls of the room started to shimmer. She had no idea what was happening, but suddenly the room didn't look like a room any more. The walls were replaced by trees – or very realistic paintings of trees. She felt something tickle her toes – she was suddenly wearing slippers... and a dress – and as she looked down, she saw the floor had been replaced by grass. Real grass. She could smell it. She gazed back up and the sealing had turned into a beautiful evening sky. Stars were starting to appear and in the distance the sun was sinking beyond the horizon.

You like it? he asked next to her. Where did he come from?

It's beautiful. Where are we?

He nuzzled her neck before pointing a finger at her temple. In here.

She turned to look at him. Yes, I know, I'm dreaming. But where are we in my dream?

He smiled. I took this from a memory. He turned her around to watch the surroundings. See anything familiar?

She frowned as she racked her brain. When had she ever seen this place? Then she noticed. A small yellow and green cottage. It had been so long since she'd been here. It wasn't a memory. She gazed at the horizon, feeling a familiar peace settling over her. When I was a young, I dreamed of a place for my own. Where I didn't have to think about what I should be doing as a proper girl. I had once seen a painting, can't remember who painted it, but it had this little yellow and green cottage in the middle of a forest and I always thought it looked so peaceful and beautiful. This was my happy place." She turned back to him. Thank you for showing me this.

He smiled and this time, when he brought his lips closer to hers, he didn't back away but kissed her instead. Immediately her body responded and she melted against him, her arms snaking around his neck to get closer. His arms around her waist.

Gently he lowered her down and laid her on the grass, not removing any contact between their bodies. As she lay on the grass, he pulled back a little and hovered over her. What do you want?

You know what I want, she answered hoarsely. You can read my mind.

I want you to tell me, his voice sounded a bit rougher than before, sending tingles down her spine. Tell me. He nipped at her collar bone and she whimpered.

You, she eventually managed.

What. Do. You. Want? Spoken as a clear command now. She shivered with lust and arched her back as he took a nipple between his teeth and bit, hard.

She knew what he wanted her to tell him. He needed details. He wanted her to tell him exactly what he was going to do to her and how she was going to feel. Awake, she would never have thought about doing this. She would never have considered submitting so much, never allow her husband...

She yelled as he bit the other nipple. Stop thinking and tell me.

She swallowed hard and took a shuddering breath. I want you to take me. Make me shatter to pieces over and over. Make my body yours. Fuck me hard and slow until I'm begging for release.

He took a nipple in his mouth and eased the bruise he caused just before. Good, he praised, then soothed the other nipple. Because I'm going to. And you will.

Then he left no room for any thought as he took her mouth with his and dominated her body. He did everything just as promised. Lavished on her skin until she was whimpering for more. Which he didn't give her, of course, not yet anyway. When he found she was far enough he kissed her senseless and two fingers fucked her hard and relentlessly. Every time he saw she was about to shatter he eased his penetrations step away from the edge. And then it all started over again. He finger-fucked her and eased back. She felt as if she was losing her mind, her body screaming for release she hadn't been given. Over and over, he didn't stop.

And then she started begging.

Apparently the cue he'd needed, because suddenly his fingers were replaced by his cock, stretching her so deliciously, pushing all the way in and then easing back till just the tip was in her. Then pushed back in, hard and eased back out. Every time he pushed in her body rocked. Every time he pushed in he hit her sweet spot. Every time he pushed in she cried out in lust.

And every time he pushed in she begged for release.

After what felt like an eternity of lust and begging he nipped her collarbone and finally gave her the sweet command. Come.

She shattered, she sky-rocketed, she flew, she swam as sparks shot through her entire body and her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave.

She felt his release and his shudder caused her body to convulse again.

It felt like hours before either of them had the energy to move and he rolled off her. Immediately she snuggled against him, bathing in post orgasmic bliss.


She was floating. She felt him chuckle under her and lifted her chin to look at him. What's funny?

Still smiling, he pointed down. She followed the finger and then tensed. They were indeed floating, just a few inches above the ground, but they were floating.


He looked up at the sky. I once told you I could fly. You didn't believe me.

Okay, you proved me wrong. Can we get down now?

He sighed and hovered back to the safety of the grassy ground.

She lay back down and watched the stars in the night sky. She knew what time it nearly was. I'm going to wake up soon.

I know. He didn't look at her, but she felt his arm tighten around her waist.

But I'll see you again next night?

He didn't comment, so she frowned and sat up. What's wrong?

He averted his eyes. This was the first time he didn't look at her. And the first time she didn't see the twinkle in his eyes that indicated he was just playing with her.

I think I need to tell you something.

Beep beep beep beep beep beep...

Oh god, she hated that alarm clock.

She buried back into her pillow, willing the noise of the alarm to go away and herself to go back to sleep, but she knew she wouldn't. Whenever her husband woke up, she did. He wanted them to have breakfast together, the only time of the day when they were in the same house. As usual, he had come home late last night, he always did, which left her on her own for the entire day after breakfast, doing whatever she could to keep busy.

"Good morning, honey." He kissed her cheek, then her mouth. Her jaw, collarbone, shoulder. She let him, not participating, but not fighting him either. Their mornings were also the only time of the day they had... he had time for intimacy. She let him make love to her, use her body and occasionally made the necessary noises one generally makes during sex, but her mind was far from into it, still vividly remembering the night she had just had. After her husband was done they snuggled and kissed before he eventually got up to take a shower and get ready for work.

She didn't know when she suddenly stopped caring. Two years of marriage was a bit early for a rut. She had loved her husband once. She was sure she had. She had been happy on her wedding day, so she must have loved him then. But now...

She thought about her dream. The feelings she'd had, the powerful emotions soaring through her veins when he'd made love to her, when she had made love to him. She hadn't actively made love to her husband in months. But the nights when she dreamed... she felt so alive. She knew part of her evasion to her husband must come from her nights of dreaming and part of her felt guilty for that. Was she cheating on him? Could it even be considered cheating if the man you were dreaming about didn't exist? Perhaps she wasn't cheating physically, but mentally she sure was. She had to be. Given what she felt when she was dreaming of her mystery man and then what she didn't when she thought about her husband. Her husband didn't deserve it, but she couldn't help it, nor could she stop it. And the biggest part of her didn't want to either.

It was just after breakfast when she already started craving her dreams. She thought about napping, trying to make the dream come back again, but it wouldn't. He only came at night. When she napped she didn't dream. Well, not dreams of him anyway.

She thought about what he had said just before she woke up and tried to remember the details. She couldn't. He needed to tell her something. What did he need to tell her?

The rest of the day she kept going over those last few moments of her dream. When they were lying on the grass, he hadn't looked as smug as he normally did. He hadn't played with her. He hadn't laughed. She started to worry. She tried to keep herself busy all day. Tried to get her mind off those last few seconds of her dream, but the image wouldn't let go. That night she went to bed an hour earlier than normal. Hoping she could sleep and that he'd be there.


When she woke up the next morning she knew she hadn't dreamed. A sudden despair swelled up in her. Where was he? Why didn't he come to her dream? Tears were prickling in her eyes and she silently wept. She didn't know why. She had had nights before when she hadn't dreamed about him, but they way he had acted two nights ago before she woke up made her worry. What if he never came to her dream again?

"Honey?" she heard behind her. "What's wrong?" And that broke her heart even more. How could she tell her husband she was crying over an imaginary man in her dreams she loved more than the man she had promised to love till death?

She wiped her tears away and turned to him, a watery smile on her lips and hoping he wouldn't see past the ruse. "Nothing sweetie, just had a bad dream, that's all." She didn't have a dream and that was as bad as having a nightmare.

"Want to tell me about it?" Why did he have to be so caring all of a sudden? Well, he always had, but his caring was starting to suffocate her.

"It's nothing." She brushed her lips against his. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for work?" She knew she was being mean in shutting him out. He deserved so much more than what she was giving him.

"Are you sure?" She had to clench her hands into fists under the sheets to keep from crying again.

"Yeah, sweetie. Go get ready."

The next few nights she didn't dream. She repressed the urge to cry every morning when she woke up, faking cheerfulness and occasionally letting her husband make love to her. He didn't know that the rest of the day she spend at home lying in her bed crying.

She started to compare her husband with her dream. And after a while began replacing him. She tried to imagine what he would be doing to her, instead of her husband. That it was his tongue mapping her body, his cock pushing inside her. She managed to participate more in the love making with her husband. Started to actively encourage him to do things, but all the while she was asking for her dream.


After a week of pretending and wondering she dreamed of him again. He was launching on a bench in a park, looking as casual as ever.

I've been waiting for you, he announced, as usual.

She smiled darkly. You've been waiting?"

He motioned for her to sit next to him, but she only took a step back.

Oh, come on. He spread his arms and smiled. You know you want to.

Where were you? She couldn't look at him. She tried to, but she couldn't.

That's not why we're here. He still sounded so damn cheerful. Other times it would improve her mood. This time she just wanted to hit him, see if he really did feel pain.

He stood up and walked over to her. Yes, he read that thought. He lifted her chin and made her look at him. Do you really want to hit me?

She took another step back. Yes. And more.

He looked at her and for a second she could see his happy exterior crumble. If only she could read his mind. But that second was more than enough for her to continue.

This isn't a dream, is it?

What do you think?

I think it's all very detailed for a dream.

The mind...

Yes, yes, is capable of a lot more than I think. But not this much.

How do you know? If you haven't explored its full potential?

For once, give me an answer. She walked over to him and this time it was she who stood mere inches away from his mouth, just shy of touching. Who are you? she whispered.

I'm afraid that is the one question I cannot answer. He moved back to the safety of the bench and sat down.

You haven't answered any of my questions!

That's because you didn't really want an answer.

What? I've been asking questions ever since I met you! She was starting to lose her temper.

And every time I was able to persuade you. Bring your mind to other thoughts.

You're not now. She sat on the bench next to him. Answer my question.

For a very long moment he gazed at the sky, his mind obviously deep in thought, questioning whether or not he should tell her the truth for once.

No, he finally said. I am not just a dream.

Then who are you?

He let her hands guide his chin so he had no choice but to look at her. Does it really matter who I am? What purpose could it possibly have that you know where I'm from? What my name is? Where this, he swept his hand through the air, indicating their surroundings, all comes from?

Did it? Did she really needed to know his name? By keeping their identities secret – well, his identity – they kept anonymity. He was deliberately keeping himself a stranger to her so she wouldn't get attached.

But she already had.

He sighed. You shouldn't.

Why not?

Because what if I cannot come back? It has already cost me so much to... never mind.

To what?

Nothing. He stood and walked a few steps away, creating more than just a physical space between them.

Only this time, she wouldn't let him and stepped up behind him. To what?

He didn't turn, instead kept staring at the sky. To open this dream sequence.

You make it sound like technology.

His lack of response was all she needed. Repulsed by the fact that some... thing was using her mind, she stepped back and lets herself fall onto the bench.

What are you doing to me? Who are you? she demanded. She saw him flinch as he read all the thoughts going through her mind.

It was never supposed to come this far. He turned, his eyes pleading. It was only supposed to be one dream. One fantasy. His eyes dropped to her feet. But I couldn't stop. They warned me about this, but I couldn't stop. And now, they'll make it stop.

Who are they

The leaders of my people.

Your people?


What happens now?

I don't know. We were never supposed to make emotional contact with the dreamers – that's you – but I couldn't help myself.

Is that why you weren't here for a week?

He cautiously took a step towards the bench, eyes asking if he could sit down, although keeping his distance on the bench and his eyes to the floor. Yes.

How do you do this? Enter people's minds?

That what you call dreams are nothing more than a series of calculations, made by my people.

She snorted. So, you're saying that you control dreams? No one controls dreams.

We do not control dreams. We are dreams. It's what my people do. It's what we've always done.

So you come up with dreams for every single person on the planet? Impossible.

Is it?

There are too many people.

Not all dreams are as active as yours have been. Most of the time we put in simple scenarios, integrate experiences of people's everyday life and moulding it into a fantasy. It's basically all mathematics and imagery.

So Freud...

Freud is partly right. Dreams are subconscious desires, he's just wrong about where they came from.

You're toying with people's minds.

You're forgetting that this is what we've always been doing. From the beginning of humankind, when people started showing the ability to dream, we've been providing them. Without us, man's minds would be blank at night. Their subconsciousness wouldn't have any way to get rid of burdens they experienced during the day. People would stop dreaming and eventually go mad from internal turmoil. We're providing them safety.

So human imagination when it comes to dreams...

Is still mostly human imagination. That doesn't come from us. We mostly work with what we're given.


Yes, sometimes, when someone experiences something the mind cannot cope with, we provide a safer scenario to allow him to deal with it.

For a while neither of them spoke. He knew she didn't fully believe him. It was her right, and maybe it was best she didn't. Best for her safety... and his own. He had no doubt there would be consequences regarding his revelation to her. He broke their most basic law. Do not get attached. Others had done it and they had paid the price for it.

So what happens now? she asked, her eyes searching his. Will I still be allowed to dream, after all you've just told me? Aren't I some threat to your civilisation because I know the truth?

He chuckled. How could you be a threat? You don't know who we are, where we are and it's doubtful anyone's going to believe you on earth. We're not a vigilant people. Others from your planet know about us. I'm not the first to have broken this rule.


He sighed and gazed over the park. Sunset was about to start. He could feel it in the air. But... you probably won't dream about me again.

So I will never see you again?

I don't know.

She shifted closer and took one of his hands in her own. He looked at their entwined fingers. So what's going to happen to you? Are you going to get fired or something?

He smiled in dark amusement. They cannot fire me, because what we do isn't a job. It's our live. And they need all the help they can find. As you said, earth has a lot of people.

So what will happen?

I don't know. They will assign me to other dreams, probably. Make me work on simple scenarios.

That doesn't sound so bad, shelied After all that they'd experienced, all the places they'd been, the things they had done... that would all be over. He would go back to their equivalent of a desk job and she... she would go back to her extremely normal life. With her normal husband and their normal dog.

He squeezed her hand and she looked up. Whatever happens, this was one rule I will never regret having broken.

Me either. She brought her hands up to his hair and guided his mouth to hers, kissing him for what she was sure was going to be the last time. She let everything she had ever felt about him scream through her mind, knowing that he would read her and that he would see what he had done for her. What he had brought her. When they finally broke apart he didn't let her go, instead hugged her tight, crushing her body against his.

It's nearly time for you to wake up, he whispered in her ear.

I know.

For those last few seconds she held him, imprinting him into her mind, every detail, how he felt, how he smelled, how he looked... everything. It was all she had.

Me tanjé, mi tolia. Me tanjé, mi Alyana.

She didn't know what those words meant, but she could guess and him using her name for the first time said enough. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she clung to him one last time.

Me tanjé, she whispered in his ear.

Beep beep beep beep beep beep...


She could still feel him wrapped around her as she woke up and for a split second she thought he would be in her arms when she opened her eyes, but then reality came crashing down and she realised she was utterly alone.

Her husband moved beside her and she quickly tried to hide her distress. "Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning, honey." He snuggled against her for a second but she wriggled out of his embrace, unable to stand the contact after what she'd been through moments ago.

"What's wrong?" He sounded genuinely hurt.

"Nothing. I'm just not feeling good, that's all. I think I'm coming down with something."

"Should I call a doctor?" His hurt had quickly been replaced with care.

"No," she fake smiled, "it's okay. I'll be fine."

"I could stay home today. Call in sick. Then we could spend some time together?"

Her lips lifted in a smile that didn't nearly reach her eyes. "They can't survive a day without you." She ushered him out of bed. "Go get ready for work. I'll be fine by tomorrow. I promise."

He let her push him out of bed and towards the bathroom, but he didn't enter. Instead he turned back and looked at her for what she thought to be an eternity. Slowly she felt her mask of cheerfulness slipping and she knew he'd seen it too.

"Why are you lying to me?" he asked, not hurt, but not happy either.

"Sweetie..." she tried, but found she couldn't look him in the eye.

"Did something happen?"

"No," she answered too quickly.

"Tell me."

"Mark, it's nothing."

He walked over to the bed and sat down. "I'm not leaving until you tell me why you've been so down lately." She knew that voice. Her husband wasn't one to get angry quickly, but he could on occasion get extremely annoyed and that voice indicated he was getting there.

She kept staring at a spot on the bed sheet, poking at a loose thread and mindlessly playing with it. "I just been having some bad dreams lately."

"About what?" He placed his hand over hers and lifted them on his lap.

"I don't know exactly, I just know that they make me sad when I wake up." It was as close to the truth as she was prepared to reveal.

"Why did you think you couldn't tell me?" God, he really did love her.

"Because I thought you'd find it stupid."

"Oh honey," he pulled her to him and hugged her tight. For a moment she was reminded of how he would hug her in her dreams and another tear formed in her eyes. "I will never think you are stupid."

"I know," she said when he let her go.

"Are you sure you're going to be fine? If you want, I could call someone, to keep you company?"

"No, I just need to clear my head. I'll be fine."

"Okay." He didn't sound so sure about it, but fortunately dropped the subject and went to get ready for work.


After two weeks of not dreaming at all or having boring dreams she hardly remembered afterwards, she realized that she was also being punished for what had happened." His people gave her insignificant dreams to try and make her forget him. But all they did was cause her to cling to her memories of him even more. She tried to imagine what he was doing. Whose dreams he was currently occupying, if he did with them what he had done with her.

No! She wasn't going to think like that. For one, her heart couldn't handle the fact that he might have moved on and found someone else. Secondly, he wouldn't break the rules so quickly again. She didn't know how society worked where he came from, but she doubted breaking their basic rule twice on such a short period of time would be smart. Every society had their same basic structure, she imagined.

After three weeks she found it harder to imagine details of their encounters. Little things started slipping away and she panicked. She didn't want to forget him. She couldn't forget him. Her memories were all she had of them.

So she decided to write them all down. Everything she could think off, every feeling, every thought, every experience she'd had with him, she wrote down. She spend weeks writing and remembering, careful never to let her husband see what she was writing about. She didn't know how he would react if he ever found out the real nature of her dreams. He sure would be jealous, hurt even. He might not find it to be real, but the detailed descriptions she noted down were sure to convince him she did.

She was so busy in her own little memory world that she didn't notice her husband's mood had changed over the last couple of weeks. She hadn't noticed that in the morning, when he woke up, he looked like he just had a nightmare. Or when he made love to her - she imagining it to be the man from her dreams – he was more urgent, more possessive, more like he was angry.

It wasn't after two months since her last dream of him when one morning he slammed the door of the bathroom so hard that she noticed it. She was afraid to ask. He was clearly wound up tight and she had no idea if he would explode if she tried.

But she still had to try. She took a long deep breath, got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. "Sweetie?" She knocked on the door and stepped in. "Is everything okay?"

He was just coming out of the shower and she handed him a towel. "Why wouldn't I be?" She tried not to flinch at his harsh tone. He used to always have such a gentle tone.

"Because you seem wired up. Is something wrong?"

"Everything's fine. Just a bad dream."

All kinds of scenarios were popping up in her head. That was her answer when he'd asked her why she was so down. Could he be...? Was there someone in his dreams? Someone from his people...

"What about?" She tried to sound casual.

"I said it was nothing." If she hadn't stepped out if his way, she was sure he would have shoved her out of the way.

She didn't know how to help him. She couldn't very well come out and say what she knew about them. He would think she was crazy for one. She didn't want to think about what else he would think of her.

So she let the subject drop and went back to writing in her little book of lost memories.


After three months of not dreaming about him disaster struck. One night, after some friends had finally managed to get her out of the house, she came home to find him in their bedroom, her little book of memories open on the bed.

"Where did you get that?" she asked, shocked. She was sure she'd hidden it somewhere he would never find.

He didn't say anything at first, just kept staring at the book on the bed. When he eventually did look up, she involuntarily took a step back. The look she saw in his face... it was something she'd never seen before. "For three months," he started, "I've been having these dreams," he picked up the book, "where my wife is sleeping with some... thing not from here. A man, taking her god knows where."

She saw he was resisting the urge to throw the book at her. "Why are my dreams in this book?" he asked through clenched teeth. "Why are these things that happened in my dreams in this book?"

She didn't dare to breathe. They didn't. They couldn't. She quickly understood what his punishment had been. He wasn't assigned to do some boring dreams. He was forced to put her dreams in her husband. Relive those experiences through her husband's eyes. And he couldn't say no. This was his life and he was bound to make dreams. Punished into making dreams they chose.

She had no choice now. She had to live up to her part of the punishment. "They are my dreams." At his look of confusion she quickly continued. "Those months before I started becoming so depressed, I was having dreams about a man. The things you saw, happened in my dreams."

"So you mean..."

"Yes, everything you saw me doing, I did. At least I dreamed I did."

"And how..."

"Punishment, because we let things go too far." She knew she wasn't making much sense, but she wasn't prepared to reveal everything.

"I still don't understand what the hell is going on here."

"You don't need to. All you need to know is that it's my... our fault that you are having these dreams."

"How is it my fault?" He rose from the bed but she didn't back away. She wouldn't.

"Not you. Me and him. I meant those things I did. I wanted those things I did. And he did too."

"So he's not just some sort of twisted nightmare?"

"No. He's very real."

"So you and he...?"


"You cheated on me?"

In everything but the actual physical act. "Yes," she whispered, unable to keep her strong front up much longer.

"Do you love him?"

Oh god yes. With everything she had. "Yes." She hadn't wanted him to find out like this. Hadn't wanted him to find out at all. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not." She wasn't, not really. "I saw you, with him. You're not sorry."

"I am!" she lied.

"Stop lying!" he shouted. She flinched at his voice. Yes, he didn't normally get angry, but when he did...

He paced the room for a moment and she held her breath, not sure what was going to happen next.

"What are you going to do?" she eventually whispered.

"What do you mean?" he stalked over to her and stared down. She couldn't look up. "You think I'm going to leave you?"

She tensed. Yes, that was exactly what she thought. She wouldn't blame him. And what shocked her the most, she wasn't sure if she wanted him or not.

"I'm not going to make that decision."

That wasn't the answer she had been expecting and she looked up in utter confusion. "What do you mean?"

He stepped back and got in bed. "I'm not going to leave you. If you want out of this, there is the door, but it won't be me walking out of this marriage." He switched off the night light and lay down, leaving her standing utterly speechless and frozen.

He knew she couldn't leave him. She had become too dependent on him. Everything they had went through him.

She was trapped.


The weeks that followed were filled in a haze of loneliness and trying to reconcile what had happened. The good thing was, her husband didn't appear to have any more dreams about her and him. The bad news, it didn't really matter. The damage had already been done.

The first week after everything had come out she had tried to stay away from him, partly resenting him for not walking away, partly wanting to give him space to come to terms with everything. Then she had tried to reconcile, tried to placate and get him to talk to her. He hadn't become hostile, hadn't lost his temper as he had that night, but every time he absently brushed her off, which she didn't know was better or worse. They hadn't made love ever since he found out the truth, he hadn't kissed her goodnight, hadn't held her hand. Every night they got ready for bed he washed, then she did and when she got in bed he was already asleep. Or pretending to be.

She knew that she should resent the man from her dreams. She still didn't even know his name. She couldn't resent him, even though he essentially ruined her life, she couldn't blame him. She could however blame the people he worked for. They had the sick idea to put their memories, the wonderful things they had done and twisted and used them to punish. They hadn't just punished her and him, they had also punished an innocent man. Her husband had nothing to do with this, yet he had been pulled into this. Made part of their twisted game of dream-playing and made to suffer with the rest of them.

They were all trapped. She in a marriage with a man who refused to leave her. Her husband with the memories of what she had done with another man, what she had felt for another man, what she had felt he knew she would never feel for him. She didn't know how the man from her dream was being punished, but what he had to do already, she knew how destroyed he would be.

They all had nowhere to go but stay in their chains and wait for something to loosen.

Kindred spirits

She hadn't written in her book for weeks, hadn't even dared look in it. It lay on his night stand, tempting her to make a move. She didn't. She knew that was what he wanted, but she didn't do it. She wanted to make this work between them. She might not love him as much as she should, but she was desperate to make this work and if that meant putting up with his silent torture of neglect and remembrance, she would stick with it. He deserved this much from her. She knew if she succeeded in winning back his trust, she was condemning herself to another chain, but she had nothing else. Her love had been taken away from her. He was all she had. He had to do.

She silently suffered his neglect for months until one day, when they were getting ready for bed, she noticed the book wasn't lying in his night stand any more. She looked at him questionably.

"I'm not saying everything's fine between us, or that it ever could be the way it was, but you've stuck around this long, even after everything. I know you don't love me as much as I love you, but your endurance told me you at least cared that much to stay and I'm prepared to settle for that." She didn't tell him that she mostly stayed because she had no other choice. She was just relieved he had finally started forgiving her.

That night they had made love. And that night, in over a year, she had wanted him to make love to her. That night, in over a year, she didn't imagine him to be someone else. She didn't dare to.

And her heart broke all over again.

Eventually life settled again. Her marriage had gotten back on track. Her husband stopped looking at her as if he only saw her dreams with another man and she closed the part of her heart where her dreams resided off. She didn't think about it anymore. She couldn't think about it anymore. She had let her husband throw he book in the trash and watched as the garbage bag disappeared into the garbage truck, crushing her dreams and shattering her heart. She didn't let anyone didn't let anything show.

And then one day, another disaster struck. Her husband was away on a two-day business trip. She was cleaning the house when someone rang the door bell. As she opened she froze in shock and dropped the broom stick. It couldn't be. She was dreaming again. He couldn't...

"Hello Alyana."

"How...?" She couldn't believe what she was seeing. He couldn't be here. He couldn't be standing at her door. He couldn't be...

"Yes, it is me."

"No." She shook her head, still not believing this. "It can't be. You were a dream. You were gone." She kept shaking her head.

"It is me." He took a step towards her, but she backed away. He held up his hands. "You're not dreaming."

"I am! You can't be real. You can only exist in my dreams." She laughed hysterically. "You cannot be standing in my doorway. Looking like," she motioned for his clothes, "that! Like nothing in the world is wrong and you just stopped by for a visit!"

"First, there will always be something wrong in the world, you know that. And secondly, I didn't stop by for a visit."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I left."

"Left what?"

He looked around the street, not willing for anyone to overhear. "My world."

"You left?"

"Yes." For a moment he just stood there, looking like a lost puppy. "Can I come in?"

Reluctantly, she stood back to let him pass, ignoring the all too familiar tingles as his body brushed past her for a fraction of a second. He looked around the living room before turning to her. "I was the one who gave your husband the dreams about us."

"I know. I figured as much."

"I'm so sorry."

"I know it wasn't your fault."

"I saw what I did to you and your husband. And I wanted to undo everything, but they wouldn't let me."

"I know."

"And then I left. I think I'm the first in generations to leave our planet and turn to our mortal side, but I did."

She clutched her apron, needing something to hold on to. "So you left because..."


She shook her head. After everything that had happened, after all they had been through, she was finally starting to get her life back and... "It's been months. You were gone for months and now you... I have my life back!" She knew she sounded desperate, but that was the only thing she had left. She couldn't go through this again.

"Come with me."

"I can't."

"You want to."

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Where would we go?"

"Anywhere. We could live your dreams."

"That's ridiculous!"

"It's not. Come travel with me. Come travel beyond your dreams."

"In what? Your imaginary space ship?"

"Who says it is?"


"Leaving my people doesn't change who I am. I can't read your mind anymore or create scenarios, but I am still from another world. How do you think I got here?"

"So you're saying... "

"It's parked just around the corner."

"And people won't notice?'

He rolled her eyes, "It's..."

"Cloaked," she finished and couldn't stop her lips from curving into a smile as she remembered the last encounter she had with the ship.

"Come travel with me."

It was ridiculous. It was foolish and way beyond stupid. Her husband would never forgive her.

"Why did you stay with him?" he suddenly asked.

"I thought you couldn't read minds."

"I can't. I don't need to, to know what you are thinking. Why did you stay with him?"

"Because I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"Now you do." He stepped up to her and snaked his arms around her waist. "Come travel with me."

"All right."

Yes, it was foolish. And she had no idea what she was getting herself into. But right now, that didn't even matter. She had her dream back, and this time it wasn't even a dream. It was so much better than that.

"Oh, before we go anywhere. What's your name?"

This was the first time ever she saw him genuinely laugh and it was infectious. "Adrian. My name is Adrian."

She nodded, smiled and took his mouth in a breathtaking kiss.