Dream Journal: 2013-10-10.01

“Hey, Girl. Whacha got there?” His voice solidified as the room dissolved. I was seated at his table, but we weren’t alone. Bar patrons glided just out of arm’s reach. I wondered if I appeared as nebulous to them as they do to me.

“Girl? I thought I had successfully outgrown that.”

He chuckled as he poured dark rum into two cracked glasses. He placed one before me and immediately chugged the other. “You’ll always be Girl to me. Until you’re old enough not to be.”

I took the glass but did not drink it. “I’m going to break social rules and decline the rum because I need to keep my head inside my skull right now, and I want to know what you’re fishing for. Your timing, while perfect, is rarely this obvious.”

“Who’s in the book?”

“Everyone.”

“You’re serious. Not done breaking boundaries?”

“It’s fiction. Pure bullshit. Entertainment. Nothing to educate or reveal. No oaths will be broken during the writing of it, though I reserve the right to create new expletives.”

“And if someone were to take issue with what you’re writing?”

“I hope they have the decency to tell me. I’m amenable to changing things for the right reason.”

“And if someone were to slip an issue into what you are writing?”

I lifted the glass and winked. Tipping it just enough so the rum wet my lips, I lowered the glass and blew him rum scented kisses. “My dear, I’m betting on that.”

He sits up from his lurking posture and blinks. The sudden echoes of his pealing laughter made the wraiths duck in surprise. “Damn, Woman! I have no complaint to that. Such sweet ass makes for such sweet bait.” He holds out his hand for the glass I have smeared with my fingerprints. I oblige. “Hold out your hands.”, he suddenly commands with severity.

I oblige, with my hands palm down. He raises an eyebrow. I say nothing. He wrinkles his face. I smile and bow my head.

“Why?”

“Because, Sir. It’s not time yet. It would be cheating to allow a player access to the board before the board is completely set up.”

“This isn’t a Game.”

“Everything I’m involved in is a Game of one type or another. I have already had [a certain thing] stolen from me. I will not abdicate this as well.”

He taps the back of my hands lightly. Red welts appear and painfully heal in seconds. A chastisement in name only. He chugs my surrendered glass and smiles. He is both predatory and friendly. “Very well, then, [Girl]. Command from your throne as you will.” He said other words, that I am not at leave to discuss publicly. Cigar smoke enveloped me and as I rubbed my eyes from the irritation, I was dismissed from the bar.

It’s going to be an interesting couple of weeks.


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