Strange Tides

4.

I Caught Myself - Paramore

       

"You really thought he'd fall for a girl like you?" a voice scoffs. "He's had countless girls in his bed; talk less of the number of girls who just throw themselves at him."

The more the voice goes on the sooner I realize who it's coming from: Alec.

"He likes white girls, I don't know if he got lost or if this is just a phase, but when it ends, you won't catch him in the arms of someone like you ever again."

Where am I and how did I get here?

"Look at you, black as night. I can't even see you right now." he laughs. "Where are you?" His laughs echoed through the dream sounding like a dying owl's hoot.

I am unable to move once again, and terror takes over me like a monarch. Even if I wasn't under the influence of Luna, I still wouldn't have been able to move out of fear. I lay on the bed angled in a position that makes sure that I have a good view of Alec's face. Nothing is left to imagination as I watch his face contort in humour, but the visual outcome is anything but humorous.

"He's had girls like Melissa Marais, Lindsey Brooke, Ashton Stone and Emily Roux. They're all such babes too, the epitome of white beauty, oh, I'm jealous of him. And he had Emily first, well her first. She's a slut now, but he turned her into one. What has he turned you into? Nothing, literal nothing, but you were nothing without him anyways."

He stands over me waiting for my reaction, forgetting that I'm incapacitated. When I don't react he grabs my knees and yanks them as far apart as possible in an attempt to make a 180 degree angle.

"Oh my soul, you're stiff. I guess after all these beauties; he isn't doing the job right." He sneers at me.

As he reaches for the hem of his shirt I muster up the courage and strength to yell at the top of my voice and I wake up.

I woke up in a cold, sweat, unlike usual. Dreams like that were quite the norm for me, I had more of them that I had any another recurring dream. Ordinarily I would've been able to shake off a dream like that; after all, it's just a dream. It couldn't be prophetic because it had already happened and he was in jail. It had no hidden meaning that I was immediately aware of, but for some reason I couldn't quite shake it like I would've another.

There was something very real and alive about those dreams. My dreams had always been lifelike experiences that I felt were happening, but this one took the cake. I experienced it with all my senses. I heard his voice, smelled his odour, saw his face, felt is anger and tasted the repulsive flavour of Luna. It was all too real to be a dream. When I woke up I had to remind myself that he wasn't there, he couldn't hurt me from the confines of his imprisonment, but not mattered about how much I reassured myself of my safety I was never quite ready to fall asleep.

It was weird too in the sense that it was the same dream, every night, never changing. Occasionally there was a slight twist. New information that I'd have no way of knowing was revealed to me subconsciously. My mind tried to forget it, but my subconscious couldn't, but only I didn't remember remembering any of this. It was all news to me. All I had remembered was a ceiling fan.

The dream that night had been one of the more intense dreams, where Alec had poked fun at a deep bruise of mine. It was as though he'd known my insecurities and had gone straight for them; he didn't beat around the bush. But he'd had no way of knowing, or was I just basic enough for him to have had me figured out before a formal meeting?

I went with the latter.

Many people feel extremely uncomfortable in their own skin.

Literally.