Henry Cavill Fantasies

Dreams

Her eyes fluttered open as reality sank  in. "It was only just a dream," she whispered. Rolling over under the warmth of her cotton cover, she sighed deeply and stared at the wall.

Yet another beautiful dream of Henry Cavill, yet it was unusual. One minute he was there with her and the next, he was just photographs and a video, all inviting her to spend the summer with him. And there were her mother's words; "His eyes, he can speak with his eyes." Or maybe it was something else, something about flavour. The writer part of her brain had wanted to write it down, it had even screamed to do so, yet was asleep, how could she?

Another sigh. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling decorating in old glow in the dark stars.

But then there was that Walmart portion of the dream where he asked people to let him go in front of them just so he could catch up to her. And how she watched beyond a glass window as he did so, determined to get to her. What was funny about it, he didn't even know her. He had just been behind them in line when she had returned with her arms full of goodies to shove into her mother's cart and then exchange out a few other things she got.

Her dream was weird. That much she could say.

And then there was that part where she was in a plaza wanting to take a picture of the art building, but because a local bank was in the picture she refused, yet there was that unusual nagging feeling that Henry wanted that. He wanted to know where she was so that he could locate her.

And then when they were finally together, she was in his arms grinding against him and wanting him more than ever, yet... she woke up.

She rolled onto her stomach and buried her face into her pillow that smelt like her coconut shampoo.

Was her dreams hinting at something? Did he dream of her like she did of him? And did it drive him crazy, like it did her, when they were no longer together in them? She wanted him, she wanted to peer into those delicious blue eyes, to see the patch of brown that mixed with one. She wanted to feel his flesh on hers, to melt into the warmth of his strong arms.

Another sigh. This must have been her eight one. How much longer was she going to have to suffer through these dreams?

Turning her head so that she was staring at the sheer brown cotton fabric draped over her window, she began to recall her other dream.

It was weird to be back in school again, except she was still her adult self. Yet, she was in school... or at least somewhere involving a substitute coach. And Henry had been it.

She recalled standing next to him and how he was instructing the girl in front of her on what to do for her endurance run. When the girl left, it was just her and Henry. Standing in silence as they peered out at the course in front of them.

She could feel it, the way his eyes would land on her and take him her in when he turned to the side. Yet, he said nothing. She had noted the way he moved closer to her, he wanted her, she could feel it. Yet, nothing.

And then she remembered the room where they were all stretching. She was in the back feeling very cramped. Henry's butt has brushed against her own as he tried to move past her. And when she leaned down to stretch, she found herself face to face with his butt and praying to God that he would not let one pass while she was there.

It had been some time since she could recall the others and she saw no point in doing so. Who wanted to dewel on such beautiful dreams that were only that, dreams.

"Maybe I should just go back to sleep. Maybe I'll see him again."

She rolled over into a comfortable position and closed her eyes. She occupied her mind with thoughts of her previous dreams. Maybe her mind would make up something for her, or maybe, just maybe she was right in thinking Henry only visits her dreams when he is asleep as well.