Enjoy this excerpt from my first novel The Man in My Dreams available at http://www.stephanienburgessbooks.com
Friday, November 5th
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you more.”
“I know,” he says laughing.
“Do you think you’re Han Solo with that I know thing?” I say seeing his face in the mirror looking at me with his mouth open in amazement.
“You’re almost too much! I love how you remember the little things about sci-fi movies. I don’t know too many women who love sci-fi movies like you; especially, Star Wars,” he’s saying but, in truth, I have not heard one word. I only feel his lips as they move against my neck. “I never thought I would find a woman who loves the same things I do,” he continues to say and kisses my neck. I shiver.
“Well, you have to thank my brothers for the sci-fi lovefest,” I say pressing my back into him in this oversized bed, but again I only feel his lips move. I can make out every word he’s saying as he presses his lips against my cheek. Now, his words are floating before me like waves—light and carefree.
“It feels so good when I am with you. Girl, ecstasy, it’s just the little things you do that makes me wanna be right there when you need me,” he’s singing and badly, but it’s so cute. He’s trying his best to sound like Stokley Carmicheal from Mint Condition, singing Someone to Love, but he forgets there is only one Stokley. I’m still lost in the tone of how his words sound. The meaning behind each one knowing they are only for me.
“You are amazing,” I say. I think to myself how did he find me? “I’ve been waiting for you to find me. I could not imagine anything, anyone, better than you. I didn’t know I could be in love this much.”
He starts playing with my hair. Kissing my neck; then he’s kisses my back, and I press my body against his wanting to become one with him. He turns me over and lays on me. He softly kisses my lips. He’s kissing me harder now putting his tongue in my mouth making me want him with all of me. He kisses my neck just behind my left ear driving me insane. I moan. His mouth finds my breasts. My back arches. He lifts me touching the smallest part of my back—that sends me into shivers.
“Oh, God,” I say moaning. His mouth moves down my body; I’m still shivering as his hands gently move at the same pace his mouth does—slow and deliberate. I moan. My passion for him continues to rise. He moans; now pausing to look at me, staring deep into my eyes. He smiles at me and then his mouth finds me. My legs melt away. We never made it to breakfast.
“This place is absolutely wonderful. I love being here with you; it’s more than I could’ve ever imagined. We’ll have to come here again,” he says and smiles this devilish grin at me.
I laugh at the way he says come and I could not agree more, “Yes, yes we will,” I say. I know he’s the one making everything in my world all right. I want to be everywhere he is. “Do you hear that babe,” I say. He looks at me shaking his head no. “Seriously, you don’t hear that, that, that noise over there? I can’t see why you can’t hear it; it’s so loud—there, there it is again,” I keep saying.
“What noise,” he keeps saying to me, and as usual he just fades away like a puff of smoke. Then I realize what the noise is; where it’s coming from—my cell phone; now, I wish I did not set that alarm. I really hate my cell phone right now. I’m becoming very angry since this was the clearest dream I’ve ever had of him.
I didn’t want to wake up, but my eyes flew open staring at my clock—5:45 a.m. Jesus. I need a shower, a cold shower, and my sheets need to be changed—again. These dreams are getting worse or are they getting better? I’m so confused, but no matter what these dreams are they should be illegal; locked away for trespassing on my mind, in my life, and on my body.
I sit on my bed trying to enjoy the parts of this latest wonderful and yet disturbing dream. I find my journal and began writing it all down. I don’t even know why I bother to write any of it down; I clearly remember them all very well. This man, I know him, but from where? I don’t have a clue whatsoever who he is, and it’s driving me crazy. Why am I dreaming of a man in this way and not know who he is—question number thirty-four on my list for Dr. Redman. I sigh looking at the pages in my journal most I’ve written in the middle of the night—writing while I’m half awake.
Three nights ago I wrote: Why can’t I see his face? I never get to see his face; he’s always blurry. It really pisses me off. I’ve never heard his voice; it’s like we’re underwater. He’s talking, singing, but I never hear a thing—not clearly anyway. But I do hear: I love you, I know, oh, God, and how much he loves Star Wars. But I see, I see, everything so clearly. It’s like I am looking through glass. I feel, I’m there with him, but this is a dream. How is it that I can feel him, touch him, make love to him? Oh, how I desire him, and yet somehow it’s not me. I’m not there. It’s not me loving him, feeling him, touching him, or being next to him; it’s her, some other woman, who gets to love him not me. I love how he makes me feel though. This is crazy! How I can feel him through my dreams, feel his love, as if he’s really real. I keep thinking that I need to be medicated because I know I am losing my mind. I wonder how I did this. Is it my fears of not being in love, disappointments of love, of lost love, that has created these dreams? Because in my dreams this man will never disappointment me, leave me, or hurt me. The only thing that is disappointing with him is when I have to wake up.
As I reread what I wrote, my mind is racing drawing blanks everywhere I take it, but as I think about my dreams; I can still feel his hands, his lips, his…then I wonder why I would want these dreams to be real. My love life, if that’s what you call it, hasn’t been that great for me. These dreams have given me something to hold on to; something I feel that is obtainable, even if it’s not in my lifetime.
My relationships, the few that I have had, has never worked out: one took advantage of me, one cheated on me, and one, well, he walked away from me. Living in that dream world there are no pains, no regrets, and no heartache, but do I really want this man to be real? With my dream man, and if he was real, what would I do—run to him or run from him?