Astral Lovers

CHAPTER 4

Lily POV

A lightning breaks the sky and I am brought back to reality by the rain beating fiercely against my window.
It is still dark outside and another flash illuminates the sky, casting eerie shadows on the walls of my room.
Immediately after, the roar of the shift follows, capable of shaking my soul.
As if I weren't already shaken by myself.
That dream.
For God sake that dream.
I turn abruptly on my left side, grabbing the pillow and then bringing it to my face.
I let out a noise of frustration that is readily absorbed by the pillow itself.
Steve.
I can not think of anything else.
Steve doesn't exist.
And this thought kills me.
I move the pillow from my face and turn towards the night stand, I notice the time marked on the display of my smartphone.
Great.
It's only 3:30 AM and I can definitely say goodbye to sleep.
How can I fall asleep again after what I've experienced?
How can I fall asleep again knowing that I will never see those eyes again?
That I will never see that smile again?
I raise myself leaning on my elbow.
I think about what to do and in the end I decide that maybe it is better to get up.
On tiptoe I go down the stairs, I absolutely do not want my father to wake up.
I don't even know what to tell him.
What would he think if I told him.
"You know dad I can't sleep because I think of a man who doesn't even exist"
Knowing my father, he would have me interned in the first available psychiatric ward.
Once in the kitchen I fill a glass with water.
And God help me but I still feel the taste of that beer on my lips.
Ok.
I have to stop.
And also quickly.
My life is already a disaster and another problem, if I can call it that, I don't want that.
I drink all the water with a few sips and then I open the cupboard upwards and take the jar of Nutella that is inside it.
I head towards the stairs that would have brought me back to my room but not before having taken a spoon from the drawer positioned under the hob.
I go up the stairs with my survival kit, as I like to call it, and finally I return in my room.
Once inside I pass the bed and head towards the window where, with some blankets and an undefined amount of pillows, I have created a small alcove all for myself.
I squat bringing my legs under my ass and I sit down.
I bring a generous spoonful of Nutella to my lips as I watch the rain pouring down.
The moment my tongue comes into contact with that sweet cream, I moan with satisfaction.
Who knows what it would be like to moan because of Steve's lips on my body.
Or what it would be like to lick Nutella directly from his skin.
Yet another thunder brings me back to reality and I mentally curse myself for letting my fantasy wander at full speed.
I have to cut this fantasy out.
Really.
Another flash illuminates the sky and I see his face reflected in the window.
His eyes.
Damn!
I don't know how to deal with this.
The only sensible thing I feel like doing is trying to think calmly, reasonably and clearly. So I lick the spoon well and close the jar again.
I head to my desk and turn on my MacBook.
While the PC comes to life I try to calm my heartbeat and think clearly about my dream.
Surely my dream is the oneiric manifestation of the shortcomings in my life.
Of the lack of love.
Not having anyone who cares about me, I will have led me to project everything I need into Steve.
I need someone who loves me and listens to what I have to say.
What I feel.
That all of this manifested itself through a damn sexy man is another story.
As soon as the PC is operational I already know what to type in the search bar.
Lucid dream.
I scroll through the first search results and then click on one at random.
I read it all avidly.
"By lucid dreaming we mean that dream had in consciousness of the fact of being asleep.With the ability to move deliberately.With practice, the lucid dreamer can get to explore and modify the dream to his liking"
Maybe this last part I shouldn't go into.
I do not want to.
I continue with my reading.
"The focus of the experience is realizing that you are dreaming.Such dreams are described as experiences of remarkable perceptual quality"
That's why it all felt so real.
Colors, smells, flavors.
Him.
I turn off the PC angrily.
I don't understand where this anger is coming from now.
I should be glad to know that there is a logical explanation for this night's events.
Yet I am disappointed.
Embittered.
Angry.
And above all, I feel stupid.
Wishing him is real is stupid.
I agree to the corridor light on, which means it's 5:00 AM and my dad is about to leave for work.
Caught by a moment of madness, I head to the door and go down to the kitchen, where I already know that I will find him fully dressed with his inevitable cup of coffee in his hands.
I stop on the threshold of the door and he is sitting there at the table leafing through some files.
As soon as he perceives my presence he looks up and immediately brings it back to his work.
"What are you doing awake?it's really early.Don't you have an afternoon shift at the bar today?"
"Yes dad, it's just that I couldn't sleep.You know...the thunders"
"Mmh mmh" he murmurs without looking up from his papers.
"I can sit here?With you?" I ask him.
He finally looks up and for a moment I can see the confusion in his eyes.
Feeling that the haste vanishes.
He answers me with an austere nod of the head.
I sit down and with my heart in my mouth I begin to speak.
"You know dad, I thought I could go to New York this weekend.Just to visit it and have some fun...Jhon said I have 3 days off this month and I thought I'd spend it like that"
His head jerks up.
He looks at me as he would look at a stain of grease on his favorite tie.
Looking back at his stupid files, he replies with an angry voice "Why the hell are you coming up with this nonsense.We've already talked about it.You don't need to travel.Here you already have everything you need. Museums, shops, green spaces"
"Actually you talked about it.I just listened and obeyed"
I reply in a much more poisonous way than I thought.
"Elisabeth please don't start...not again!"
I hate it when he uses my full name.
It usually means shut up and do what I say.
I get up badly, rubbing the chair on the parquet and walk out of the kitchen stamping my feet like a whimsical child.
But as soon as I arrive in front of the door I stop and just turning my head back I exclaim
"I hate this place.I hate this life.I hate you.I wish mom had never died"
He does not reply and I return in tears to my room.