Short Story: "The Dream" by DMG

     The material is soft and warm against his flesh, the velvet fabric clinging over him as if an extension of his own skin. He stretches his arms out to grasp and release the arm rests of the great throne he finds himself perched upon, so out of place in the darkness of the room. Then he casts his gaze around to take in the rest of his surroundings.
He is in the very center of the chamber, but has no idea where it begins or ends, has not a clue as to where the walls stop or the floor starts. He only knows he is in the center, a bright spotlight raining over him as he sits upon the ornate throne. It is the only light; the rest of the room is bathed in darkness.
At first, there is nothing, only blackness outside of the light floating over him. He is not alone, however. Like waves violently crashing into the shore, the surroundings break over him. Bodies are everywhere, dancing to deafening music that neither starts nor ends, merely keeps blaring for the sea of dancers, their bodies gyrating and vibrating with the rhythm.
Watching the eccentric shadows moving about him, he merely sits. He has no clue where he is, what day it is, what time it is. All knowledge of his surroundings is lost to him. Sitting like an impotent king upon his throne, intently waiting for something, something he cannot name.
A hush falls over the room, one only he feels. It is as if the wind has suddenly changed its course, though there is no source of a draft. He searches, from left to right, frantically seeking the source of the surge within his heart. Then, as if there is a magnet inside of him, his head whirls to the left and halts. A figure slowly parts the ocean of people, though no other in the room takes notice.
     It is a woman. He knows with every fiber of his being that she is everything, his beginning, his middle, and his undoing. He may be king, but she is his queen; he is hers, of this he is sure. With every elongated step, she nears him, glowing, as if she has lights within her skin.
     Finally, she steps before him. His breath is swept from his lungs. Of her beauty, there are no words to describe it, no feelings strong enough to impress upon anyone the ethereal exquisiteness of this creature. Her skin is made of moon beams and so soft it is like white rose petals knitted together to form her being.
     He knows every inch of her without knowing how. On her tiny feet are black leather boots that end at her knees. The skirt she wears is made of the night sky and floats as she walks, as if it is pieced together with clouds. He somehow remembers her milky legs, strong and firm. She is lithe and elegant, her torso encased in a black leather corset that creaks as it bends around her rib cage with each breath of air.
     Her shoulders are bare, making her perfectly sculpted collarbones look like brush strokes of definition on her flawless skin. Her neck flows faultlessly into her jaw like a perfectly conducted orchestra plays from forte to diminuendo. Her eyes are deep pools of transcendent brown, swirling like coffee in a glass. Her dark tresses flow down her back, the ends dancing in an inexistent wind that seems to be tickling their ends. Two curls dangle on either side of her serene face. Her lips are tilted into a gentle smile like the sounds of a duet between two soft flutes.
     As she nears, one step at a time, he feels his soul rise up within him. He cannot think or speak. Finally, she stands before him. His eyes lock with hers and he is willingly drowning in them. All is lost but her. He remains sitting on his throne, still unable to move. She moves seamlessly up the dais and perches herself on his lap, one brilliantly white arm resting over his shoulders, her other hand resting over his heart.
     She leans in close, her skin smells of cherry blossoms, and whispers softly into his ear.  Her voice is the perfectly tuned high pitch of an aria, lilting and rising in sweet fluidity as she breathes her name into his ear…-
     -He awoke with a start, unsure of where he was. He opened his eyes, vainly trying to see. No matter how many times he rubbed his eyes, the darkness prevailed. Cradling his head in hands, his mind whirling out of control until a name, her name, drifts over his lips like a prayer and the whole world seems to halt and he remembers that he is blind and it’s all been a dream …

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