Page 3

Jamie woke slowly with the kind of disorientation only a daytime nap could bring. He opened his eyes and the bedroom ceiling was above him. The one he was starting to default to, instead of waking confused as to why there were no cracks or mold spots above him.

The sun was bright and clear through his windows, and a glance in that direction showed blue skies. He pushed himself up to sitting slowly, trying to reorient himself.

It was afternoon. Wednesday.

He’d woken up this morning and it had been storming. He’d decided on a lazy morning in, had made himself breakfast and tea, had gone to the couch and…

The memories directly following that were of an entirely different sort. The prickling unease at the back of his neck had convalesced into a real, tangible fear.

A spider. A horrific thing that had scuttled out of the shadows of his living room. It had been six– no –eight feet tall with a dozen glowing eyes. A monster that had left him tripping over himself to escape.

Jamie scanned the room now, but there was nothing. There were hardly any shadows in the room at all with how bright the sunshine was. Jamie had sworn he’d been awake, had sworn he’d seen that thing and it had been real.

Now that felt… impossible. Like the ravings of someone who was off their rocker.

He pushed down his blankets, but he wasn’t even naked. He was wearing the shorts he’d been wearing earlier. He spotted his shirt discarded on the floor. He didn’t remember removing it himself, he only remembered the nightmare creature doing that.

It had tied him up and touched him. Fucked him. Made him come.

Impossible .

Jamie turned his hands one way and then another, then checked his ankles. He expected to see some kind of evidence from how tightly the rope had been gripping him, but there was nothing there. No discoloration, no rope burn.

There was nothing, because it hadn’t happened. Because it had been a nightmare or a delusion. Maybe Jamie was losing his mind. He’d been so sure he’d seen it, but the only evidence anything had happened was a vague soreness in his body, and if he’d been tensing or thrashing in his dreams, that was easily the cause.

Jamie climbed out of bed, and went to the bathroom just to be sure. He stripped out of the shorts and stood back to look at himself in the mirror. Despite the weird way he was feeling, he looked fine. Almost better than fine, actually.

Since moving in, all of Jamie’s dreams had been strange, and he’d suffered broken night’s sleep because of it. Despite that, every day he’d woken up more rested and energized than the last. There were no dark circles under his eyes anymore, no gaunt pull to his face. He didn’t know if it was eating regularly or the lack of being yelled at all the time, but the apartment had done him well. The only thing staring back at Jamie in the mirror was a better version of himself.

Even the nap he’d just had, for all its horrors, had left him energized. He was losing his mind, but he’d also never felt physically better.

Just to be sure, Jamie reached a hand down between his legs. It felt maybe a little tender there. A little sore. But he wasn’t even as sore as he’d been that morning. And there was… no wetness there. Nothing to indicate any sort of eldritch creature had come inside him.

“No, you’re just crazy,” he said to his mirror self.

Feeling out of sorts, Jamie went back to his bedroom and found himself a fresh set of clothes. If the storm was gone and he was topped up on energy, he could at least go and run his errands for the day.

Getting out of the apartment would be good for him anyway. Some fresh air to clear his head.

Dressed, Jamie strode back through the living room, picking up the cup of tea and his phone that was still there. His phone told him it was one in the afternoon. The last time he’d been looking at the phone it’d been near eight. At least he hadn’t fallen asleep and slept the entire day away.

When he unlocked the phone, he saw the last browser tab he’d been looking at and flushed shamefully. Yeah, so he’d been asking for a nightmare like the one he’d just had. When he’d been looking at tentacle porn he’d had a tentacled dream. Today he’d been neck deep in shibari, so what did he expect to happen?

Was Jamie going to learn?

Quickly, he closed all of those browsers and then dropped his phone in his pocket. The back of his neck prickled and Jamie spun around, but even in the darkest part of his apartment, there was nothing.

“Groceries,” he reminded himself. “Stop jumping at shadows.”

He thought about lunch or a snack before he left, but even though all he’d had to eat was oatmeal and a banana hours ago, he wasn’t really hungry. Instead, he took the stone cold cup of tea from the living room coffee table and dumped it in the sink, then found his keys and wallet. He plucked his shopping list from off the kitchen counter where he’d left it, then went to grab his reusable cloth bags. The grocery store wasn’t a far walk, but he needed a few heavy items and he’d learned that it was easiest to carry them back in something sturdy.

Jamie squinted as he came down the steps of the building. The sun was directly overhead and searing now that all the rain had gone. He’d been in his dark apartment for too long because it hurt, and he had to shield his eyes.

By the time he had walked the six blocks to the superstore, Jamie made the executive decision to buy a pair of sunglasses at the store too. He’d had a junk pair that he’d used on occasion, but he didn’t think he’d seen them when unpacking after the move. The six block walk had been… uncomfortable in its brightness.

He made quick work in the grocery section of the store, loading up on the staples he was running out of, and made a swing past the whirling rack of sunglasses, picking out ones with a bright blue rim. Rick always wore such colorful sunglasses and he made them look good—maybe Jamie could try and pull them off.

Finally, Jamie wandered over to the part of the store that had house goods. No more lights had blown in the apartment, but he wanted to pick up another pack of light bulbs just in case. It was better to have more than enough, than be stuck in the dark.

He grabbed a pack and then his eyes caught on the display right next to it. Nightlights.

For a second he almost reached for one, but the dinosaur design gave him pause. In fact, most of the nightlights had childish designs on them. Because they were for children.

“You’re being crazy,” he muttered to himself under his breath as he made himself pull away. “You’re not afraid of the dark.”

Still, his eyes stuck on them. Wondering .

Then again, the dream earlier had come upon him in the daytime. He’d even been sitting in the light of a lamp; it hadn’t been dark at all. There was no shadow monster, it was all in his head. All Jamie could say for sure was that he’d looked up things on his phone and that at some point he’d fallen asleep. He’d had a vivid dream– extremely vivid –but had woken up to find absolutely no evidence that it had really happened.

Sure, Jamie had moved from the couch to the bed, had taken off his shirt, but that wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. People slept walked, or were so tired they did things they didn’t remember later. It was a little odd, but it wasn’t… supernatural.

Still, it kept dragging at his thoughts the rest of the time in the store. He could barely focus as the cashier rang him up and he paid. He kept thinking about the fear, about the way he’d felt all morning like something was watching him. The way that spider had tied him up like he was prey–

The way a part of him had enjoyed it.

Jamie tried to focus on bagging the groceries. Everything went in his bags and he hefted onto his shoulders. He slid on his new sunglasses before he stepped outside the store. They helped immensely with the brightness, and he was glad he’d gotten them.

The whole walk back Jamie kept thinking about those phantom touches. The way the ropes had clung to his skin, held him nearly immobile. The way those enormous spider legs had caressed him, coaxed him sure but steady toward his orgasm.

That was the worst part of it all. The fear had been drowning Jamie, but it hadn’t deterred the reactions of his body. If anything, it had made them more intense, and that dream orgasm had been one of the best he’d ever experienced.

Or maybe it hadn’t been the fear at all he’d been reacting to so strongly. Maybe it had been just how adeptly those spidery legs had touched him. How they’d known every part of him that was sensitive, where he liked to be touched and how. That they’d fucked him the way he’d always wanted, the way he’d barely let himself dreamt of.

Because it was a dream. Just a dream.

Just a dream he thought he was awake for, that he wasn’t still tasting on his tongue.

***

A week later Jamie was still wearing the sunglasses. He’d even grabbed a second pair at a gas station during a work break, so he could leave one pair in the work truck and have one for home.

He’d never really been a sunglasses person, but he understood now why Rick had such a wide collection. They were so helpful in transitioning from inside houses and apartments to the bright outdoors. He’d quickly grown so used to wearing them that if he went outside without them, he’d squint painfully against the sunlight and have to go right back upstairs to retrieve them.

“Hey,” Jack said, interrupting his thoughts. The tone implied it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get Jamie’s attention.

“Sorry, what?” Jamie turned to look at Jack who was standing by the breakroom door.

“Earth to Jamie,” Jack said with a small smile. “You going to finish lunch? It’s time to go.”

Jamie looked down and– oh . Right. He’d been eating lunch. Except most of his lunch was still there, only a few bites taken out of his sandwich and the bag of chips half eaten. He’d been picking at it when he’d gotten distracted.

It was happening more and more now. The dreams hadn’t let up, and although they hadn’t ventured into any new territory, the tentacles and the rope bondage were enough to continuously haunt his waking thoughts. Every night he dreamt of the monster who caressed and touched and fucked him. Every night he had body shuddering orgasms and woke well rested and without a mark on him.

It was confusing.

“Sorry, I’m ready,” Jamie said as he started packing up his stuff. In every moment of downtime his brain wanted to go back to the dreams. Wanted to ruminate about it. He tried to pull apart every detail and figure out how they could possibly be real. Because they felt so real.

But monsters weren’t real.

Jack frowned at him. “You didn’t finish eating.”

“It’s fine,” Jamie said quickly as he tucked everything back in his lunch box. “I wasn’t really hungry anyway.”

He could see how that didn’t sit so well with Jack after he’d already spent so much time worrying about Jamie getting enough food while he’d lived with his mother. Jamie felt bad about Jack worrying, but he really wasn’t hungry. Since the dreams he’d been… more energized throughout the day. Like he was getting real, restful sleep, and he hadn’t needed to fill the lack with food.

Jamie’s weight was holding steady, even if his portions were smaller, so he hadn’t bothered to be concerned.

“Anyway,” Jamie said as he stood, trying to placate Jack, “I’ll just bring it and have some later when I get hungry.”

Jack gave him a long look, like he wanted to ask something, but then just nodded. “Alright.”

He headed out and Jamie gave himself a second to breathe. This was far from the first time they’d caught him zoning out on the job, and he didn’t like it. They were just dreams . Jamie didn’t understand why he kept thinking about them so much.

So what if they were weird? People had weird dreams all the time. At least, that was what the Internet said. Jamie had done some mild research, and been both relieved and annoyed to find that other people also regularly had monstrous sex dreams.

But he really, really needed to not let it affect his work.

Lunch box packed up, Jamie hurried out of the room, flicking down his sunglasses as he walked outside. Rick was already in the truck and Jack was climbing in. They had a four bedroom house next, and it was going to be a big job. It’d take the rest of the afternoon.

“Hey, there he is,” Rick said as Jamie slid into the truck. “You good kid? Looked like you were doing some heavy thinking when I popped my head into the break room.”

Jamie almost cringed. So Rick had noticed too. “Sorry. Just distracted I guess.”

“Anything you want to share with the class?” Rick asked.

Oh yeah sure, Jamie thought sarcastically to himself. Just that I've been having all kinds of monstrous dreams and they're so good and so horrifying that I find myself thinking about them multiple times a day.

“Nope, just… gathering wool,” Jamie said. It was something his mom used to berate him about, that sometimes Jamie would be up in his head instead of listening to her scream at him. He’d hated when she’d said it, as if he were some sort of simpleton with cotton for brains. It was an easy excuse to use now.

“Alright,” Rick said, letting him off easy. “Let’s do this. Big job, here we come.”

***

The job was a nightmare. The customer had hardly packed any of their house, and they had tons of large, heavy, fragile items. There were mirrors and paintings and seven feet tall plants in enormous ceramic pots. In one room there were floor to ceiling boxes of books.

Not to mention the house was two stories with a full basement. Rick had frowned when he’d taken it all in and then had to readjust the quote to make it a two day job. It was going to take them nearly twice as long because it wouldn’t fit in a single truck run, and there’d be a surcharge because they’d have to start extra early tomorrow to fit in the rest.

When the woman started complaining about the cost, no one was surprised.

It took a call to the store where Peter backed up everything that Rick quoted her, before she would even listen. After thirty minutes of back-and-forth where Peter threatened to cancel the job altogether, she conceded that yes, she would pay the surplus because she really needed her things moved, and at this point she didn’t have any other choice.

So they got to work.

Even with Jamie’s newfound energy, around the third hour in, he started flagging. There was a lot of up and down stairs, a lot of slow lifting and setting down. Some of the plants had to come down one at a time, because there was only so much wrapping they could do with leaves before it became a problem.

It was exhausting, heavy work.

Maybe that was why as Jamie started taking down one of the large, gilded mirrors in the upstairs, he slipped. His arms had been trembling for a while, and with his sweaty palms, he lost his grip.

Thankfully, Jamie was quick to react, quick to regain his hold and the mirror didn’t hit the ground. The fancy decorative edging cut sharp and painful into his palm as he did so.

Jamie hissed in pain. He could tell that it had drawn blood, and gingerly lowered the mirror down to the ground to rest against the wall.

“Fuck,” he hissed as he turned his hand over. Sure enough, there was a long, rough cut across his palm from where the ornamental frame had dug in. Already it was welling with blood.

Jamie was the only one in the room, which he was grateful for. If the client had seen him almost drop her mirror, she would have lost her shit on him.

But he needed to patch himself up before he continued. There was a basic first aid kit in the truck, so Jamie turned and hurried down the stairs.

He heard Rick and Jack in the living room working on moving the large entertainment center, so he didn’t bother to alert them. It wasn’t his first minor injury on the job. Jamie went down and out of the house to the truck, digging in the back to pull the first aid kit out from underneath one of the seats. He could feel the hot blood in his cupped hand, but so far it hadn’t spilled.

One-handedly, Jamie got the kit open and pulled out a few packets of antiseptic swabs. He tore one open with his teeth and finally uncurled his palm. Blood was smeared across the lines on his hand, and Jamie quickly used the antiseptic wipe to clean it off.

Then he stared at his hand in confusion.

Because what should have been a large cut across his palm was somehow… not there anymore. Or, no, there was something, but in the way that a three or four day cut lingered. Where it had sealed up and not even scabbing was left. There was just a lighter color line where the cut had been across his palm.

“What?” He flexed his hand, thinking the cut would reopen, but it didn’t. Because there was no cut. There was just an older mark.

Now that he was thinking about it, the antiseptic hadn’t burned the way it should have when he was cleaning his hand. In fact, the cut had hurt when he was upstairs, but he’d stopped noticing it by the time he got to the truck.

Jamie turned back to look at the used antiseptic wipe. It was covered with blood. He hadn’t imagined that. He’d been bleeding.

And now he… wasn’t? Now he wasn’t even wounded? When he flexed his hand there was no pain, and when he traced over the faint line on his palm, there was nothing that felt like he’d just been injured.

It was so bewildering that he just stood there staring at his hand. It didn’t make any sense. He’d just cut himself. There was still blood on the wipe. How was he not bleeding anymore? How was he not cut anymore?

Wildly, he turned over his other hand to check if for some reason it was the other palm, but it wasn’t.

There were grunts from the front door, and Jamie could see out of the corner of his eye Rick and Jack carrying out one of the pieces of the entertainment center.

Jamie looked at the bloody swab and his own hand. If he stood here much longer gaping, they would get to him and then there would be questions. Questions Jamie couldn’t answer.

So he made a decision. With his now healed hand, he grabbed the bloody antiseptic wipe and its wrapping, stuffing them in his pocket, the other hand snapping the first aid kit shut. The kit went back under the truck seat, and Jamie grabbed for his Gatorade in the backseat instead. He was sipping it when Jack and Rick got to him.

“Break time?” Rick said with a heavy puff of breath as he walked the shelving until into the truck. “Sounds good.”

Jamie tipped back the bottle swallow so he didn’t have to speak. His mind was whirring. He didn’t understand what was going on. Didn’t understand the dreams or the energy he had now, or the… the way his hand had almost instantaneously healed.

One thing was for certain though, Jamie hadn’t imagined the cut. That had been real, and he had the evidence of it stuffed in his pocket.

But if that was real, what… else might be real?