Dream Master

In the distant past...

"I'm doing my best to carry on, James, but I'm growing more and more lonely.  The townsfolk mean well, but they don't know what to do with a young widow.  I see relief in their eyes when I tell them I need to head back to the cabin.  As a result, I've been going in to town less and less, and they certainly don't come out here to see me."

Mary ran her fingers lightly across the bark of James' favorite maple and smiled down at the spot where she'd buried him. 

"But I will carry on.  I made it through the cold winter and I made it through the hot summer.  Don't worry, this time is just hard on me because the autumn was always your favorite.  I love you, James."

The walk back to her cabin was heavily wooded.  James had been a frontiersman before he settled down with her, and he had needed some separation from the rest of civilization.  So they had carved out a small homestead in the woods and settled there.  She was proud of what they had built together, just the two of them, and so much about this place triggered fine, fine memories.  But as she faced a lonely future likely to be much longer than their all too short time together, she wondered if she should move away and start anew. 

When she reached the door to her cabin, the hairs on her neck stood on end.  Something was wrong, but it took her a moment to realize what it was.  Quiet.  The woods had grown quiet.  She quickly went inside and grabbed the ultra-special tool that James had been so excited about.  Then she returned to the porch, sat down on the rocking chair, and set the tool in her lap where it would be hidden in the folds of her work-dress. 

She didn't need to wait long for the source of the disturbance to present itself.  Jacob Boyer, a portly man with a receding hairline and a face that seemed to always scowl, trudged out of the woods and into Mary's clearing, wheezing as he went.  Mary tightened her grip on the tool to keep her hand from shaking.  Though her heart beat wildly, she fought to keep the terror out of her voice as she called out, "Afternoon, Jacob.  What brings you out this way?"

"Mary," he replied.  "Mind if I come over and see you?"

She most certainly did mind.  "I'd rather you did not, Jacob.  As you know, I'm alone out here."

He stopped for a second, and then took a step forward.  "Come now, Mary.  After I walked all this way?"

"I don't recall inviting you, Jacob..."

He stopped again, and then took another step.  "And what is your concern?  I'm a respected man around town."

"Strange thing about that, Jacob.  I don't get into town much, but I still hear the rumors.  I heard a particularly nasty one about the banker's wife, Sarah.  It seems that, when her husband was away on a business trip, she laid with another man, and he made her scream.  And not in a good way, mind you."

Jacob's face broke into a slight grin, and he took another step toward her.  Mary took a deep breath as her heart did summersaults.  "When George got home, he found her tied up naked with all of her blood leaked out through a stab wound in her gut."

Jacob abandoned his fits and starts and started to walk slowly toward her.  "And what does that have to do with me?" 

"Rumor has it that you did the raping and the stabbing."

He smiled and picked up his pace.  Each step closer made Mary's heart beat harder.  All he said was, "I see."  This wasn't actually a confession, but a decent person would at least protest being accused of such a terrible act.

"And I can't help but notice that you've brought a rope and a knife with you on this little visit of yours."

He had crossed half the distance from the woods to her porch.  "That's right.  I have."

Mary frowned.  "It's a shame, Jacob.  My James has been dead for over a year now.  A woman has needs, just like a man does.  I might have consented to lay with you.  But I'd rather not be gutted."

"Well, consent isn't really something I appreciate, Mary.  And Sarah wasn't my first."

"Yeah, the rumors suggest that young Emma, Paul and Marion's daughter, befell the same fate, although no one found her body."

He had practically reached her porch.  "And they won't."

"I'll ask you to stop for just a second, and think about something, Jacob."

He obligingly stopped and grinned at her.  "What's that?"

"Sarah's mousey little husband was a banker.  What could he have taught her?  How to count?  And Emma was a teenager.  She wouldn't have known anything.  But my James was a frontiersman.  He taught me what to do with predators."

"He did, did he?  And what did he teach you, pretty Mary?"

In answer, Mary stood and pulled James' tool out of her lap.  It was the fanciest, most newfangled tool anyone had heard of, imported all the way from Europe--a flintlock.  She didn't give Jacob time to say anything.  She didn't say anything herself.  She just shot him in the head.

* * *

"I did it just like you taught me, my love.  I waited until he was so close that I couldn't miss.  I'm sorry that I complained about you spending so much on that tool.  I wish you had bought two..." 

Mary leaned against the maple and sighed.  

"Anyway, I tossed his body in the river.  It was quite a chore!  But I watched it take him away.  He's someone else's problem now.  I can't help but--"

A bright flash interrupted Mary.  Was it lighting?  The skies were clear and there hadn't been any thunder.  Then, she heard a terrible wailing sound, like an animal in pain.  It was coming from the direction of the flash.

Aside from the animal's screech, the woods were silent.  But Mary wasn't afraid.  If something was in pain she had to try to help.  She rushed toward the sound, completely unable to match it to anything she had ever heard before.  And, even though she had no idea what to expect, she was still surprised by what she saw.

In a small clearing, inside a ring of mushrooms, she found a man lying on his back in the center of an area where the bushes had been pushed away.  There was a black and white house cat pawing at him and crying for all the world to hear.  The man wore thin clothes that were beyond strange, in colors that Mary hardly knew existed, and he clutched a large book to his chest in a death grip.  One of the colors Mary did recognize was red, and it was staining more and more of his shirt at his side.

"Sir?  Have you been hurt?"  Mary rushed over to him.  He didn't respond, but the cat hissed at her.  Mary said to the cat, "I don't know if he's your master or your dinner, but I'm going to try to help him regardless of how much you hiss at me."  She reached out and gingerly touched his side.  The cloth was impossibly smooth, but also wet.  Her finger came back red.  He was definitely bleeding.  "Sir?"  She shook him a bit and raised her voice, "Sir!  I need you to wake up."

His eyes shot open, and he gasped.  Clearly in pain, he looked at Mary and said something in a language she didn't understand. 

"I'm going to lift your shirt and look at your wound, okay?"  

He just stared at her without comprehension.  She lifted his shirt and was surprised to find he was only wearing one layer.  She was not surprised to see that he'd been stabbed in the belly.  The blood had made that clear.  At least the wound was off to the side.  The body parts there were less important than if he had been stabbed straight on.   "This doesn't look too bad, but we've got to stop the bleeding.  Can you sit up and take off your shirt?"

He continued to just stare at her, so she tugged up on his shirt a bit and made wrapping motions around the wound.  He nodded and let her help him sit up.  The cat watched them carefully, but had stopped hissing and crying. 

The man carefully set his book down and then winced as he raised his hands up.  Mary pulled his shirt over his head, and used it to make a bandage.  She didn't waste time marveling at the strange material, although she made a note to reflect on it later.  He said something else that she didn't understand in an appreciative tone. 

"You're welcome," she muttered.

* * *

"There we are.  Almost there."  Mary had the man's arm over her shoulders as she helped him walk into her house's clearing.  She couldn't help but notice his muscular build and smooth skin.  Although gentle with her, James had been hardened and rough.  This strange man had apparently gotten strong without rolling about in the burs and brambles of the woods. 

He stumbled, but she caught him before he fell.  He said the same incomprehensible thing he'd said the last time, but the tone sounded like an apology.  "No need to apologize, sir.  I would do half as well if I had been stabbed.  Though, I suspect a big strong man like yourself would have carried me."  This brought thoughts of his arms around her, pleasant thoughts, but she pushed them aside.  It had been too long since James' death, but this was not the time to think of such things.

Back where she found him, when she raised the man onto his feet, his cat had bound silently into the woods, not to be seen or heard from again.  Now in her house's clearing, it appeared again and followed them.  Its fur was mostly black with white paws and a white tip on the tail.  Around its eyes, it had white fur in a kind of reverse racoon's mask.  Although Mary was no expert on cats, she had never seen one with markings like this before. 

They made their way into the house, where Mary helped the man sit down at her table.  "I need to clean that wound and get a better bandage on it.  Then you're going to lie down and rest." 

He set his book down on the table and didn't protest as she unwrapped his shirt and cleaned his wound with a wet cloth.  The wound was round, like he had been stabbed with a spike or a spear, not a knife.  Having fixed James up from all manner of injury, she was an old hand at this, but the man winced and grunted more than James did.  It appeared that he had less experience being hurt than she had mending injuries. 

She put a proper bandage on him and helped him over to her mattress on the floor.  There she covered him with a warm blanket, smiled and patted him on the shoulder.  "Get some rest.  We'll look at that again in the morning."

He said something in his language.  Was it German?  She didn't know any German.  Then he closed his eyes.  The cat curled up next to him.

Mary stood up and looked down at herself.  She had his blood on her apron and dress.  The cabin was a single room with no place to change in private.  But his eyes were closed.  She turned her back to him and quickly removed her apron and dress.  She was relieved to see that the blood had not soaked through to her smock.  She put on a different dress and turned around to find him still in bed, but looking at her.  Strangely, she didn't feel embarrassed that he'd seen her in her undergarments.  Of course, she had out and out bathed with James before they were married.  She quickly pushed thoughts of that out of her mind and made a motion with her hand that suggested he should close his eyes.  He did.

His book was still on the table.  She walked over and looked at it.  There was a word on the cover, but the letters weren't really symbols she recognized.  She idly opened it and saw that the internal writing was made up of the same unintelligible letters.  She shrugged and went about her day.

* * *

The strange man slept through dinner.  Mary had made enough food for the two of them, but decided against waking him.  Now that the sun was down, it was time for her to sleep as well.  She stood at the foot of his mattress and stared down at him sleeping soundly.  Regardless of what her longings and desires suggested, Mary wasn't about to sleep on the same mattress as the stranger.  After piling some furs and clothes on the floor, she looked at him, then at the flintlock on the wall, and back to him.  With a shrug, she took the flintlock and put it next to her temporary mattress.  Then she lay down facing him and quickly fell asleep.

She found herself outside of her house in the clearing.  She was wearing colorful clothing that matched the stranger's, and she marveled at how smooth and comfortable it was.  She understood why he didn't wear linens under his clothes when his clothing was more comfortable than the linens themselves.

There was a growl behind her, and she spun around in fright.  A very large cat, maybe what James had described as a "mountain lion," prowled behind her.  She cried out and reached for the flintlock, but didn't have it with her. 

"Hunter, down!"  It was the strange man's voice, and it had an accent, but she could understand him.  He continued, "She protected me.  You'll do the same for her."

Mary didn't take her eyes from the animal, but her fear subsided enough for her to notice that its markings matched those on the man's house cat.  It gave her a tentative "mrow" and laid down on its paws.  She tore her eyes from the cat and saw the man behind it.  He was dressed in his colorful clothes, but they were no longer stained with his blood.  "How..." she wasn't sure what to ask.

"You're dreaming, my dear.  I wanted to thank you for helping me.  Where I come from, kindness like that is uncommon."

"Are you from Europe?"

He smiled.  "I don't know where Europe is, but I assure you that I'm from much farther away than that."

As Mary looked him over, she idly wondered why they were wearing clothes at all in this dream.  The man blinked at her and blushed.  She covered her face.  "Wait, did you just hear what I was thinking?"

"I am sorry, Mary.  This may be hard for you to believe, but this isn't just your dream.  The three of us, yes, including my cat, Hunter, are sharing the same dream.  I am Troi, the person currently sleeping on your mattress, and we will all remember this when we wake up."

"Is this some form of witchcraft?"

"No, Mary, not witchcraft, although it is magic.  In my realm, I'm known as a Dream Master, and I can do many things in people's dreams."

"Like invading mine and reading my mind?"

He frowned.  "I apologize for forcing this upon you.  I will leave you to your sleep."

"No, wait."  She stared at him.  Quietly, she asked, "What else can you do?"

"For one, I have taught you my language.  You will still know it when you wake up."

"Does that mean I'll be able to read your book?" 

He nodded, but frowned.  "You will, but I'm afraid you won't be able to use it.  The book's magic only works for people from my realm."

"What else?"

"I can dramatically improve a body's ability to heal while asleep."

"Do you mean that you're healing yourself?"

"Yes, I am fine, thanks in large part, to you."

"I'm relieved by that."

"I can also teach you how to fly like a bird in your dreams.  Would you like to soar, Mary?"

Mary looked to the sky.  "Everyone would like to soar."

He reached out and stepped toward her.  "Then take my hand."

Without hesitation, she grabbed his hand.  They floated off the ground and into the air.  Mary was filled with excitement, wonder ... and longing.

"I'm trying not to read your thoughts, Mary, but you're practically saying that out loud."

This time Mary blushed.  She looked down at the clearing around her house and traced the path to the town in the distance.  She then found James' tree.  She stared at it for a while before muttering, "I'm sorry.  I'm sure your wife doesn't appreciate when you dream with randy young widows."

Sadly, he replied, "I have no wife, Mary.  And, even if I did, it wouldn't matter.  My life is forfeit."

Shocked, she looked at him.  "What?  Why?"

"I angered a very important person in my realm, and one of his enforcers is hunting me.  I will not be able to stop her."

Afraid, Mary asked, "She was the one who stabbed you?"

"Yes."

"How did you get away?"

"I didn't.  She is right behind me."  Mary looked back in fear.  But all she saw was a soaring falcon.  Troi continued.  "No, she's still in my realm, but will be here soon.  My realm moves slower than yours.  Although she will probably only spend a moment between when I left and she follows, a day has passed here."

This was all fantastical and unbelievable, but no more so than flying.  And there were more practical things to do than question it.  "We have to get you away!"

He smiled warmly.  "Thank you, Mary.  I can see in your heart that you're considering giving up what you have here in a desperate attempt to take me to safety.  But there is no safety.  The enforcer will find me no matter where I go.  I was foolish to try to escape."

"We have to try!"

Firmly, Troi said, "No.  That would only result in the loss of your life along with mine."

Mary looked at James' tree and found the clearing where she had found Troi.  It was empty.  "She is not here yet?"

"Not yet, no.  Soon."

"Troi, I wish to wake up."

Her eyes opened.  The sun was coming up, casting light into the cabin.  Mary stood and found Troi sitting up on the mattress and removing the bandage.  There was a scab, but it looked well on its way to being healed. He smiled up at her, "Hello, Mary."

He had spoken in his language, but she understood.  "The dream was real, wasn't it?" she asked. 

He nodded.  "Yes, it was."

"You really can't escape this 'enforcer'?"

He stood up and said, "Their skills are legendary."

She stared at his strong chest.  Quietly she asked, "Before you go ... will you ... give me ..."

Troi strode to her, took her in his strong arms, and kissed her.  Mary pressed her body against his as pent up desire surged through her.  His soft lips.  His scent, like flowers.  The hard mound in his pants that she felt against her.  She felt warm inside.  No, she felt hot, like she was burning up. 

Though their lips were locked, Mary closed her eyes and moaned involuntarily.  Troi pressed his tongue against her lips and then into her mouth.  Mary's eyes shot open in surprise.  James had never done anything like that.  But Troi just kept kissing her.  She timidly touched her tongue to his, then renewed her kissing with more vigor, playing with his tongue as she went.

He reached down and squeezed her rear through her smock.  She responded with another moan and pushed her thighs more firmly against his.  The pressure made her knees shudder.  He pulled up on her smock, so she backed away a bit and raised her hands above her head.  He removed the smock and tossed it aside, leaving her naked before him.  A bit sad that this would be over soon, she lay down on the mattress and spread her legs.  She expected Troi to remove his pants and enter her, as James used to.  She loved the feeling, but wished it would last longer. 

Troi did remove his pants, revealing a large member that was erect and solid.  He got down on her, and kissed her again, but didn't put it in.  Instead he kissed her cheek and then the base of her neck.  That sent shivers down her back and caused another involuntary moan.  He slid down, kissing as he went, until he was kissing between her breasts.  They obviously did things differently in Troi's realm, and she liked it. 

He cupped her breasts with his hands and rubbed her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers.  Mary gasped.  How could Troi know to do that?  He continued to rub one nipple while he moved his lips to the other.  He suckled it gently and flicked it with his tongue.  Mary didn't know what to do other than to moan louder and enjoy it. 

He slid further down her body, and gently licked her belly button.  Mary had no idea what to expect.  He couldn't possibly be going lower, could he?

He went lower. 

Troy gently parted her lower lips with his fingers and licked the exposed flesh with his tongue.  "Oh my God!" she cried.  She had never felt anything like this.  And it was good, very good. 

Mary reached down and pulled her legs apart as far as they'd go, giving Troi more room.  He continued to lick the exact right spot, which caused her to writhe and squirm in pleasure.  Then he inserted a finger into her and bent it up to touch a spot she didn't even know she had.  He licked and pumped and pressed and caused her to scream ... in a good way. 

Mary's body tensed up and then shuddered in a way that almost never happened with James.  Waves of pleasure coursed through her, and she made all manner of guttural noises.  When he finally stopped, she lay there gasping for air, feeling better than she ever had before.

"How did you ... how did you know to do that?"

He smiled.  "In my realm, we tell each other what we want."

She exhaled.  "How do women know to want that?"

Another smile.  "Well, now you know..."

She sat up on her elbows and looked down at him between her legs.  "And what do you want?"

"I want to lay on my back, while you get on top of me."

She sat up and said excitedly, "Show me!"

He crawled up onto the mattress and lay down.  His member was still erect and stood up.  "Get on your knees and straddle my body so that my cock is near your pussy."

These weren't words she recognized, but she understood their meanings.  She did as instructed and soon his ... cock ... pressed against her ... pussy. 

"Now rock up, position it with your hand, and rock down to put it in.  Go as fast or slow as you'd like."  James never wanted to hurt her, but sometimes when he went in, he went too fast.  Having her control the speed was ... this realm of Troi's was quite an interesting place.  Mary rose, positioned him, and gently pushed him inside of her.  They both moaned.  "That's it, Mary.  Take me deeper.  All the way in."

Deeper?  Okay.  She lowered herself further, pushing him deeper inside of her.  She loved James, and never felt violated by him, but this was so much more caring and tender that it ever had been with him.  Mary lowered herself until her crotch pressed up against Troi's.  The pressure in the right spot caused her to moan again. 

"Now rock up and down."  This she understood.  It was the same thing James did, though she was in control of it now.  She rocked up and down, driving him in over and over again.  She went slowly at first, but gradually picked up speed.  Troi reached down and grabbed her rear.  He pulled and pushed to help her move.  "Arch your back, Mary.  Make your boobs bounce." 

Again she understood the term from context.  She picked up the pace, driving him in and out while arching her back and bouncing her boobs.  He stared at them with a rapturous look on his face as he moaned.  Although Mary had just climaxed, she was getting close to it happening again.  Twice in rapid succession had never happened to her.  Her moaning got louder and louder in concert with his.  She bounced faster and faster, harder and harder.  She felt his body tense.  Hers was tensing too. 

And, suddenly, his cock was convulsing inside her as her pussy contracted around it.   She rammed down one more time to push him all the way in as he exploded inside her.  Her hair was wet and in her face.  Sweat rolled down her forehead and into her eyes, as well as down her back.  He reached up, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her lips down to his.  They stayed there kissing with him inside her for a long, long time. 

Finally, he rolled her onto her back and pulled out of her.  She lay there, spent, and smiled up at him.  "Great God in heaven, Troi.  I never knew it could be like that."

He just smiled back at her. 

"You really have to go?"

He nodded.

Mary frowned.  "I don't want you to go."

"No one ever wants to leave a beautiful woman, Mary.  But sometimes we have to."

"I'll go with you!  She'll..."

He just gently touched her face and shook his head.  "Sleep, Mary.  I cherish your kindness, and will not see it thrown away."

She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

* * *

Troi sat cross-legged at the portal site and waited.  The portal opened, and the green-haired enforcer bound through.  She landed in a crouch with her spear ready.  Troi merely held up a hand and said, "Peace.  I will go quietly."

She glanced around, found no attackers, and relaxed a bit.  "Come then."

He stood and towered over her.  Not that the height differential mattered.  "I have seen the Monarch's plans.  They will not end well for any of us."

Angrily, she replied, "You violated him, and you will die for it."

He nodded.  "Yes, I will.  May I ask the name of my executioner?"

"I am Xara."

* * *

Mary woke from a dreamless sleep.  It was late in the day, and the blanket was tucked around her.  The cat, Hunter, was curled up against her and sleeping peacefully.  She rolled out of bed, retrieved her smock, and put it back on.  Troi was gone, she knew that.  She hadn't known him long enough to grieve, but she would miss him. 

She walked over to her table and saw that he had left his book.  Now that she could understand his language, she could read the title.  "Morpheus."

The End