Remi, the Dons and I

I am in the Dreaming with Remi. Desire abounds and is abundant. No one is convinced but all are willing to try, to allow second chances. We journey across my Dream in a house like his house, from a place of passion and want to one of hapless, helpless, languorous love.

When we arrive at our journey’s end we are greeted by a Godfather, a Boss. We are given a coconut cube and a chocolate treat to deliver to another Don. We are to sneak into his house and at a party held there, slip him the sweets. I am not certain if they are intended to help or hinder his health.

We arrive and are shown inside. Every popular person is there. We sneak to the vip lounge from where the Don is said to be hosting, but we are not suppose to be there. I sneak in while Remi stands nonchalantly on the outside. There are tall, glass displays but I am not sure what their exhibitions are - firearms perhaps.

The room is empty. The moment I move toward the back of the room (a space between the back wall and the perpendicular partition catching my eye) the Don’s protectors, his guards, big, bouncy men arrive, and though Remi attempts to intercept them, I must play dead when they enter the room to do a security sweep. Evidently many people die at this party, so I simply need to lay flat on the floor with eyes that are vacant for them to leave again. One doubled back to check though.

As soon as I rise to check the space between the walls the Dreaming shifts to place of matrimony. Remi has asked and I have accepted. Everything is good, and gorgeous and perfect. I am now a wife.

I remember the day we make love again for the first time in forever. I remember his legs being far larger, thicker. I remember his passion being different, stronger, and tasting different, more like passion, and less like cold, hard, ruthless, selfish indifference.

The Dream shifts.