Who Is Lucas Ryker O'Riley?

13. HANDS ON MY BODY

Something was wrong, very wrong.

I didn't know how I got there or why I was, but somehow I found myself sweating profusely, sprinting down the sideline of the football field wearing nothing but my football cleats and a black multi-strap lace bra and panty set.

The bra and panties were fancy looking, with lots of straps, kind of like the ones I've seen Mom wash when she typically did a load of laundry the day after a nice date night out with Dad.

My whole field of vision was almost blindingly bright, like the sun was directly in my eyes, and the edges were blurry or hazy, yet I could distinctly see the freshly cut deep green grass and the bright white chalk outlining the boundaries including every yard line, five yards apart, running the whole length of the field.

Suddenly my point of view shifted and panned out. I could see myself running, but I was also a spectator, as if looking down from a low flying bird's eye view, moving with the direction of the action on the field.

While I sprinted with the football in my protective grasp, the whole West Valley defense came into the frame,  seemingly running faster than ever and right on my heels chasing after me.

Wait! Speaking of heels, I was in football cleats a second ago, I swear I was, but now that I could see my feet, it wasn't my favorite football shoes I was wearing. I noticed that I was running in them as comfortably as a my cleats, but these were definitely not them. These were a pair of wedge-like heels? (They were Espadrilles, but I had no clue what they were called at that time.)

At this point my dream had gotten supremely weird. Not only was I naked aside from the aforementioned sexy bra and panty set, and I was being chased down the field by an entire football team, but now I was doing it in really comfortable high heeled shoes that I somehow could run in just as easily as cleats.

As I continued running, my heart pounded, and I could feel my thoughts being conflicted about whether I should keep running or just let the team catch me.

I could somehow sense that not only was the other team trying to stop me from getting to the end zone and scoring a touchdown, but they also chased after me with a hormonally driven lustful desire. Each and every one of those players eagerly wanted to get their hands on my body.

On the sidelines, a team of cheerleaders screamed and hollered, cheering the football team on, while a sideline coach yelled at me, wanting to know what the hell I was doing and urging me to stop.

By now my field of vision had zoomed out enough for me to see everyone who was chasing me and at that moment everything sped up as if the scene was set to fast forward, making everything move in indiscernable blurs.

At that exact moment, two things happened almost simultaneously.

One, I was tackled hard from the side. The tackler came out of nowhere and hit me with such force I flew ten feet out of bounds before hitting the ground, unconscious.

Two, a moment after hittingthe ground, I awoke with a jolt and everything finally made sense, well sort of. My eyes snapped open as I realized I had just experienced probably one of, if not the most bizarre, and most real feeling dream of my entire life.

I've read stories about people waking up in a cold sweat from nightmares or vivid dreams, but the only sweat I awoke to was practically steaming hot. I noticed I had left the window and blinds open when I went to bed, and that now allowed the already blazing morning suburban Dallas sun to beam into my room directly onto me and my bed.

Damn this Texas heat! It's only eight in the morning, I complained to myself.