Dream a Little Dream

“A nightmare?” Kacey persisted, coming so close on his heels that she bumped into him when he stopped walking. “Oops. Sorry.”

Butler shook his head. “No. Not a nightmare. Just one of those dreams you feel like you had all night, and you can’t quite shake. Hey, do you have that coding update binder? Lasenby was supposed to drop them off for everyone, but didn’t get me one.”

“Of course,” Kacey said sympathetically. “He’s got it in for you, huh.”

“Seems like it,” Butler said.

They stared at each other for a moment. Kacey seemed to be waiting for him to say something, but Butler didn’t know what it was. She smiled tentatively, and he returned it, a little confused.

“I’ll bring it by,” she said finally. “The binder.”

“Great. Thanks.”

She stayed there a moment longer, then looked back at him over her shoulder as she walked away. She waved just before she rounded the corner, and still unsure of what she wanted, Butler waved back. For some reason, that made her giggle, and shaking his head, Butler went into his own office.

* * *

The dream stayed with him all day, making it hard to concentrate on the work, which was as unusual for Butler as being late had been. Normally he’d finish every task he’d set himself for the day, but when 6:00 p.m. rolled around and he was still stuck on a piece of coding so simple it embarrassed him not to have completed it, he gave up and shut down his computer.

He went for a run, but that didn’t help. He stopped for his favorite dinner at the local Indian place, but the spicy red curry only made him remember the color of his dream woman’s hair. At home, showered and in bed, staring at the ceiling and giving an occasional glance to the chastising alarm clock, he tried to get his mind on other things, but all he could think about was how close he’d come to tasting her mouth.

Butler didn’t often remember his dreams, and the ones he did have were hardly ever as dramatic as the one from last night. He had the usual dreams about forgetting a test or being naked in public, or the bizarre dreams like the one about Kacey. Every so often, a childhood memory of almost drowning would show up in his nightmares. He’d had a few sex dreams as a teenager, but nothing like that recently.

Thinking of last night’s dream now, though, he was most definitely getting a semi. He remembered how her hair had flowed all around her, how her blue eyes had met his so boldly, the scent of her perfume...something exotic, like roses but also wet leather... The monster in his dream should’ve left more of an impression, but all he could really focus on was the woman.

And terrific, now he was hard as iron, with nothing to do but roll onto his belly and bury his face in the pillow and hope for sleep to take him over. That or take care of it. He thrust experimentally a couple times into the bed, unable to stop himself. He hadn’t been this horny in...well, a long time.

“Shit,” he breathed, rolling onto his back again. Dick still hard. Room still dark. Clock still frowning the time at him—super late. If he didn’t get to sleep soon, he’d have a difficult time waking up again.

He’d suffered from insomnia often enough to know when it was going to win. He got up and padded into the bathroom to take one of the sleep aids his doctor had prescribed for use during the worst times. Swallowed it with a glass of water. Gave himself a few strokes standing at the bathroom counter. Butler liked to jack off in the shower—no mess and easy cleanup, but he’d already showered tonight. And now, with the pill working in his system, all he wanted to do was get back into bed...

Where he promptly fell asleep with his hand on his dick.

* * *

“Well, hello,” the woman said, looking him up and down. It was the same woman, he was convinced of that, though tonight her platinum-blond hair tumbled in curls to her shoulders, and her blue eyes had gone dark. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Butler tripped forward onto a smooth span of black sand. He caught himself, looking down, certain he’d find himself naked and mortified, but he wore a pair of jeans, low on his hips. Bare feet. Bare chest. No belt!

That’s how he knew he was dreaming, for sure.

“This is a dream,” he said aloud but to himself.

The woman’s eyebrows rose. “Yes. You know that?”

“Well...” He passed a hand in front of his eyes, slowly, half expecting to see something like trails of light following the movement. But nope, just a hand. He looked at her. “It is, isn’t it?”

“You know the best way to tell?”

“How?” He looked around at the black sand, the dark purple sea. The sky overhead looked weird, too. But, unlike the night before, nothing here felt scary.

She laughed and held out her wrist, where she wore an old-fashioned watch. “See if you can tell the time.”

“I learned how to tell time in kindergarten.”

“See if you can,” she repeated softly.

Butler looked. The watch looked okay. The numbers, the hands, the glass face. And yet...something was off. He tried to look at the hour hand, but it went wobbly and wiggled. The minute hand spun. He looked at her. “What?”

“You can almost never tell time in dreams. Or read,” she added. “If you’re ever worried about whether or not you’re dreaming, try to read something. You’re Butler.”

So it was the same woman. “You remembered me.”

“How could I forget?”

They stared at each other, silent and assessing.

“Why would I ever worry about if I’m dreaming or not?” Butler asked, wishing he were smoother. That he had a line of some kind. Did he need one, in a dream?

She laughed. “You never know.”

“This is a dream,” Butler repeated, looking around, then again at her. “And here you are. Again.”

“Here I am,” she agreed with a slow smile.

He returned it. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she said. “So. What do you want to do?”

“I get to choose?”

“It’s a dream,” she pointed out, moving closer. “And now that you know it, sure. You can choose. You can shape it, if you try.”

The woman made an expansive gesture, and a breeze followed that kicked up the sand. In front of them, the beach became a patch of lush green grass dotted with crimson and yellow flowers. In the center of it, a four-poster bed made up with plenty of pillows and hung with gauzy curtains appeared.

Startled, Butler took a step or two toward it. Over his shoulder, he looked for the ocean that had been there seconds ago, but saw more grass and flowers. He looked at her.

“Did you do that?”

“Yes.” She looked him up and down again. “Butler, don’t you want to kiss me? You don’t even have to wait until we’ve escaped from a monster, and I promise you, that bed is a lot more comfortable than the cave.”

He shivered, not chilled but feeling quivery inside just the same. “I don’t even know you.”