MistressLex
Active member
Last night, I dreamed I was standing at the edge of a shoreline, and a bright, blazing fire burned on the other side of a deep, dark lake—maybe an ocean.
I felt angry, and sad, and hurt... but I stepped into the water. I soon realized I was walking across it. I reached the middle of the lake, and the blaze in the distance grew brighter, warmer.
I looked behind me and saw a familiar face slowly sinking. Fear struck me as I turned and reached out, catching their hand before they could go under. I could feel the soul-weary oppression in them. They didn’t want to try anymore. They just wanted to be still... to sink.
Their face slipped beneath the surface, but I kept my grip. I refused to let go. I pulled—with everything I had. Every tool. Every heartbeat drumming in my ears. I felt the fire build inside me and flow into them—my pain, my pleasure, my sorrow, and my joy becoming coils that reached down and gripped them.
And I would not let go.
Not until I reached the other side of the fire.
And for once—I wasn’t tired, or weary, or sorrowful.
I was glad.
As I pulled, their face rose for breath, and the color returned to their skin. They couldn’t rise yet... but they would.
I knew it.
With a certainty that felt born in my bones, I pulled harder—gently but relentlessly.
And waiting on the shore, near the fire... twin lions stood.
Watching.
Waiting.
Until I reached them.
I felt angry, and sad, and hurt... but I stepped into the water. I soon realized I was walking across it. I reached the middle of the lake, and the blaze in the distance grew brighter, warmer.
I looked behind me and saw a familiar face slowly sinking. Fear struck me as I turned and reached out, catching their hand before they could go under. I could feel the soul-weary oppression in them. They didn’t want to try anymore. They just wanted to be still... to sink.
Their face slipped beneath the surface, but I kept my grip. I refused to let go. I pulled—with everything I had. Every tool. Every heartbeat drumming in my ears. I felt the fire build inside me and flow into them—my pain, my pleasure, my sorrow, and my joy becoming coils that reached down and gripped them.
And I would not let go.
Not until I reached the other side of the fire.
And for once—I wasn’t tired, or weary, or sorrowful.
I was glad.
As I pulled, their face rose for breath, and the color returned to their skin. They couldn’t rise yet... but they would.
I knew it.
With a certainty that felt born in my bones, I pulled harder—gently but relentlessly.
And waiting on the shore, near the fire... twin lions stood.
Watching.
Waiting.
Until I reached them.