An overly-eager artist being welcomed into the industry is taken on a bumpy ride as she learns life does not have as many sunny days as she thought. Within the process, she comes to learn that her tour guide is a lot more important to her than she e...
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November 28, 1985 Chicago, Illinois
Too much like Martin King, I had a dream. It was my first time too... My first time having the kind of dream I dreamt. As embarrassing as it still is to say, I dreamt of a man I had no business dreaming of. The dream was a sign that I'd crossed lines I couldn't walk away from. Feeling as real as it did was one set of issues... Being based on the actions of my reality made it even worse.
His hands explored every crevice of my body as my heart rate rapidly rose. Though I was topless, I wasn't completely exposed as I had a piece of bodily covering. I felt myself becoming weak. I made sure I didn't release. Prince kept his genitalia in check this time but now it was I who needed to gather myself as he wildly french kissed my neck. He held both of my hands down, our fingers intertwined, his shirtless body pressing against my chest. His leg was between my legs and against my core. I knew he could feel me getting hot.
He was lowly asking rhetorical questions every two kisses until he exposed me. "Is that alright?" He whispered against my earlobe, nibbling on it. Bitting a hole in my lip as I squeezed his hands, my body created a mind of its own. It decided now was the time to get very, very, very moist. I felt it seep into my lower-body's under garment. "He can't do it like me, can he?" His question was bold. His question was raunchy. His question was not real.
It was a dream, a dream based on our filming in a cave, but still a dream. I didn't have to answer the question posed within it because I was dreaming and once I realized that, all I knew was panic.
I shot up in a frenzy. Heaving chests weren't a common issue of mine but my heart was pounding out of my body. I felt like my skin was made of burning coals, stinging to touch as a cold sweat appeared on my neck and under my arms. My breaths were short and frequent. I'mhyperventilating, I thought to myself. This was the third time since I'd left France that I'd had this dream. Well, it wasn't so much of a dream... It was more of an altered flashback that occurred while I slept since most of it really happened. It bothered me that I didn't know if that was Prince or Christopher Tracy doing those things to me in that cave. I learned to just leave it alone because there was no way I'd ever have even considered asking.
"What are you doing?" Prince asked me from the other side of my bed. It was dark, pitch black, but I still saw the outline of his skin. He was there.
Nice brought on a new connection for us. Prince would always be all over my room (and nerves) when he didn't join Susannah back in Los Angeles. He got bored sometimes. At one point, as I was on the phone with my family, Prince butted right into my conversation with Lenetta. Our grandmother threw out the proposal of him stopping by as he charmed them out of their good sense over the phone. In came the same old 'Of course! One day!' that we all throw out. I didn't think he'd ever be coming to meet them in person any time soon.
