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| Blogs > mdec82 > Thoughts, and non-thoughts |
The Sister, Pt 1: Sleep and Wake
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The Sister, Pt 1: Sleep and Wake Sleep has an odd way about it. Sometimes she comes like the tide, rising to lift your up in her dark, swelling waters. Your thoughts drumming against the shoreline of your conscious. Slowly tumbling. Turning. First rising, and then falling. She pulls you out into her inky darkness. Waves so gentle you don't feel yourself leave the shore, and can't tell you're sinking until you've drown in sleep. Or sleep comes like a crash of lighting; a bolt without thunder. A flash so brilliant that everything else becomes nothing but darkness. Imprinting quickly-fading images upon eyelids. Then they fade and leave you in darkness. Your mind the victim of some violent, rending force too sudden to comprehend what had just happened. Lighting or tides also wake. When the lightning wakes, the sudden return of conscious thought often energizes the senses. One finds themselves suddenly aware of their surroundings, even if the mind struggles to fill in the specific gaps of where, when, and why. However, this night it was the sea who carried me back to wake. Swirling dreams slowly mixing, melting, lapping up against the shores of the woken world around me. First a sensation of cool air. Is it real, or am I just imagining? Next, a soft shuffle as something quietly moved at my side. A lingering specter from the land of slumber? As the last waves of sleep washed over my toes, I found myself laying on the floor, more or less in the spot where sleep had taken me just minutes — hours? — before. The blanket I'd wrapped myself in lay loosely over top of me. Somewhere in the darkness, I could hear the sounds of the others still sleeping. A soft hand suddenly pressed against my lips. A quiet, timid, "Shhhh," from someone crouched at my side. As my eyes struggled to adjust, I noticed the delicate smell of honey and flowers, mixed with something else that was at once both unfamiliar and exciting. I felt her movement more than I saw it. Fingers were replaced with lips. I reflexively kissed them back as her long curls fell and tickled my cheek. I knew not why, but my friend's sister was sitting over top of me. Now knowing the who, but still unsure of the when and why, our kisses became more passionate. As I shifted my body, I became aware of something else. At first, the slow, rhythmic sensation spun me back into the confused torrent of half-wake. Maybe I was still sleeping, and this was all part of some hyper-realistic dream my mind had cooked up somewhere in between the land of the living and the sleep world? Her hand continued to move under the sheet. Sometime before I'd been awaken, her long fingers had crept their way under the loose band of my shorts. Hungrily grasping, slowly stroking. The already burning embers began to spread. I could feel her smile as she felt the results of the fire she'd stoked. When our kiss finally broke, she sat up slightly. My eyes had returned to me, at least to their best capacity in the barely-lit room. It was enough to make out her form. Her soft shape reduced to a water-color painting in the silver light. I tried to make out the expression on her face, but it was mostly darkness. My eyes<b> traveled </font></b>down to her lightly-colored t-shirt. It was the easiest shape to make out. Clear enough to watch the taunt fabric slowly sway beneath her bent torso. She was on her knees; the smooth shine of bare legs<b> traveled </font></b>uninterrupted up her thighs before disappearing under the long shirt. As I studied her form — a study which admittedly centered around the gentle sway of soft, round chest — she withdrew her hand from my make shift bedding, careful not to make too much noise. I lay there, aching for her touch to return. She sat there looking over me for a moment, then she moved close. She gave another small kiss, and whispered into my ear before suddenly, but carefully, standing up. I was still a little disoriented, my brain racing to process what she had just said. I watched her tip-toe back up the stairs. Disappearing into darkness. Her trembling voice echoed in my ears, "Follow me." |
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