The man who dreamed about muse

The First Chapter

I woke with valleys of sweat pouring off me. For the slightest second, I suffocated in a fear of the unknown. But as my surroundings formed I felt the reassurance of familiarity. I then proceeded to ponder the dream of last night- wonderfully vivid and surreal, playing in my memory with such depth and accuracy of a video. I remember the landscape and feelings, one's I didn't know I felt. Pushing these away like distant partners, I find myself getting ready to tackle the day, one of boredom and work.

I worked as an accountant, a dreary and unchallenged job with few benefits. Numbers are surprisingly, my forte. I understood them with such clarity as untouched glass, which led me to be quite adept at my job. Although, because of this, there was no real challenge and the bulk of it turned out to require little effort. Which always leads me to my thoughts...

'Dom, hey bud. Hows it going?' Jackson blared as he strode toward me with the confidence of a fully grown, testosterone loaded bull.

To keep the conversation off myself, I respond with 'I'm fine, how was your weekend?' A plentiful, sly grin spread his cross his face like hungry, hungry caterpillar.

'Let's just say, I was a hit with the ladies down town in that new club, Lavish.'

'Oh really?'

'Especially with a feisty red-head, Amy. She can really do a lot of things with a mouth so small...' As customary in a situation such as this, I high five him. Proving my masculinity is vital in moments like these. I could be shunned out of men world for displaying lady traits,I joke to myself. In reality I don't think I could care less whether Jackson thought I was manly

The week continued