To Dream of a Dream

It took a lot of willpower to do this, but it has brought me to where I wanted to be. The feel of soft skin is divine, and the touch of cold metal keeps me in the here and now, absorbing every stimulus produced by the owner of the lips I thus kiss.

It is awkward at first, like learning to ride a bike, getting the hang of gravity and so forth, but after a few tries, I decide I don't want to get the hang of it. Every single try is a new experience, a new memory to be cherished. All errors do is bring a laugh, then a smile, and then a new try. So everything is perfect. All my worrying about denial was for naught.

Maybe she's right. Maybe I should be more sure of myself. But even then, it will never bring what I long for now. The fact that I have attained this will have to suffice, although I hope it will never end. Even at the end, when we both know our time is up, and that we have to leave, we still refuse without a word. At least I know I don't want to leave, but my insecurity still makes me doubt her reasons.

What does she get from this? She has a life that seems to be going in the right direction, why would she do this? What does she get from this that she can't get otherwise? Why me?

Alas, it ends, like I knew it would. It will probably never repeat itself, just like those beautiful astrological designs the court mage speaks happen only once every ten lifetimes, or the wonderful workings of magic only age-old mages of unspeakable power can produce. So thus, I weep inside my shell, with a facade of happiness covering me.

Not truly a facade. I am happy. I'm happy this happened. I'm happy that there is a slight chance it might happen again. So that happiness fuels my mask, to further hide my true sadness. Sadness born from the inner demons that taunt me and mock me in the darkness born of the shadows in my room.

The night is over, our respective kings will get suspicious if we drag this any more, so we part ways. She returns to her chariot, her servants taking her back to wherever it is dreams live. I walk to my bed, to sleep, and dream of the nightmares that only the real world can so vividly produce.