• Home
  • Posts Tagged'online serial'
  • Page 3

Posts Tagged ‘online serial’

The Psychology of Dreams 101 Chapter 9

Psychology of Dreams cover12985576_1537272663241009_8777292825525497968_nWelcome to Part 9 of The Psychology of Dreams, in which things turn darker still, and Leah’s dreams become harder and harder to navigate.

And yes! The fabulously talented Kev Blisse has worked his magic again with a great cover for The Psychology of Dreams! Thanks Kev! you’re the best!

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, and her psychology of dreams teacher, Al. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

No, I didn’t dream it, and I’m seriously hoping I don’t get punished like Leah and Al do if I don’t get it quite right, but The Psychology of Dreams did bubble up from somewhere in my unconscious and I had to share it. Since then,the Muse has been back knocking around in my imagination in some pretty unusual ways, and never taking the path I’d expect, but then dreams are like that, aren’t they? Enjoy episode 8!


I have no idea how long this little ditty will be, nor where it will lead, but I’m willing if you are. Please, read and enjoy The Psychology of Dreams 101.


If you’ve missed Episode 8, find it here. 


WARNING ADULT CONTENT! It occurred to me halfway through writing this episode of The Psychology of Dreams that this little tale might be a bit of a shock for those who just finished reading In The Flesh. While In The Flesh is dark paranormal romance, The Psychology of Dreams is just raunchy, fun erotica, a bit of light relief after Magda and her Consortium. Be warned, light it may be, but filthy it most certainly is. Enjoy!


A Reminder: Time got away from me this week, so please do remember that The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a work in progress, which means you are viewing the raw story before it’s polished up. That means in some cases it’s rawer in others. But it also means what you’re getting is as close to what’s coming out of my head as it’s possible to get — or as close as you really want to be anyway. 🙂 Enjoy the work as it unfolds.


Chapter 9 Whose Dream is Whose?

“But it was a dream, right?” Leah made no attempt to hide the desperation in her voice. “I mean they might have been in comas, but it was still only a dream.”

For a moment, Al didn’t speak, then he heaved a sigh that sounded like he bore the weight of the world. “Leah, do you have any idea the power dreams have? I mean if I — ”

“What happened,” she cut him off, swallowing back the sudden urge to scream. “Don’t lecture me. This is not your goddamned class. Just tell me what happened.”

“I got Derrick out by convincing him he could do Diana more good if we regrouped and tried to figure this out together. That was a mistake. She wouldn’t let us back in after that.”

“Jesus,” Leah whispered, feeling another wave of vertigo and lying back on the grass until things stopped spinning.

He lay down next to her. “We tried everything we knew – everything, but when it became clear we were helpless, we had to come clean. She was taken to the hospital. We lost our grant. Derrick barely avoided jail. I think he would have preferred to go to jail, actually. Living with the guilt, which was much worse. And the fact that the university let us off easy, covered everything off to protect its own ass didn’t help.” For a moment there was only the tinkling of the stream over the rocks and the whisper of a soft breeze in the fir trees. Leah might have been alone in the place lying there with her eyes clenched shut, wishing she would have never signed up for the damned class. Then Al took a deep breath and continued. “He blamed me for dragging him out of the dream and leaving Diana there. I blamed myself.”

“He shouldn’t have done it to begin with,”

“Hindsight is always better than foresight, isn’t it? Besides, he told me later she’d been hounding him about it for a long time. Diana was fascinated with the work we did. She’d even asked us once about that old wives tale, if a person falls from a high place in the dream world, if they don’t wake up before they hit the bottom, they’ll die. You know what I mean.”

“You think that’s what she was trying to find out?”

“We found out later she was … well she’d suffered from a psychotic break a year before we met her in grad school. She had stopped taking her meds, we found out. No, I think she knew exactly what she was doing, or at least what she was hoping to accomplish. You see, we always took detailed psychological and medical profiles of all of our subjects before we involved them in our work. They were all very carefully screened. But she … well she got to him and, frankly, he would have done anything for her. We both would have. We were both … well we both loved her.” He gave a tight jerk of a shrug. “She chose Derrick. I didn’t know they’d been sleeping together until that night.”

“It must have been a shock.”

He huffed out a jagged breath. “That’s an understatement. I was furious. My first response was to leave them there to be found out and just pretend I knew nothing about it. But it was as much my research as Derrick’s. Derrick was, well Derrick really didn’t need the money. He had an inheritance. I had nothing. I … had nothing.”

“What happened, Al? With Diana, I mean. Did she recover?” Even as she said it she knew the answer to the question with a knot of cold certainty low in her gut.

“She died.” His answer was blunt, unembellished.

In spite of the world spinning harder than ever she forced herself into a sitting position, “Fucking hell, Al, and you took me to this guy to sort out my little dream problem knowing what you knew, and you kept it from me.”

“Leah,” he sat up next to her and, when she tried to stand, but lost her balance, he guided her back down, putting her arm around her and settling her against his shoulder, her with her eyes clenched shut to stop the spinning. When she opened them again at last and took a deep breath, he was studying her. She could feel his intense gaze even in the darkness. “Leah, listen to me. I took you to Derrick because of your dreams, and most especially because of what was written in your dream journal the first time you dreamed about me. He quoted the words from her dream journal almost verbatim. “You look beautiful when you dream. It was a good dream, the kind you don’t want to wake up from. At last, you’re doing it right! You can always tell when you do it right by the way your nipples bead beneath the sheet, by the way your lips turned up at the corners, slightly parted as though waiting to be kissed. Your scent is the scent of dreams well dreamed, luscious and ripe. Well done! Well done!”

f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6a“You memorized what was in my dream journal?”

“I didn’t have to. I memorized almost the exact same thing five years ago when Derrick wrote it for Diana, whispered it over and over in her ear until his voice was hoarse, trying to get her to let him back in.”

“What?” Everything in her wanted to run away and even though there was really no place to go, she might have if he hadn’t held her arm in a firm grip. “How the hell can that be?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But when I saw what you’d written, I knew I had to get you to Derrick, if nothing else to find out if he was getting inside your dream somehow, but he swore to me he wasn’t, that he had no idea what was going on. I, well, I would have told you, but I needed to be sure. And if I’d been wrong it wouldn’t have made any difference and you wouldn’t have had to be dragged into this.”

“I see,” she said, not really seeing at all.

“If I’d been right, then you would have had to know the whole story at some point, though I was hoping it wouldn’t be like this. “

“So why do you think he’s doing this, Dr. Clyde, I mean. Why do you think he’d want to manipulate our dreams? If everything you say is true, then he’s not just some pervert getting his jollies from other people’s sexy dreams.” She was a little surprised at just how calm she felt. The urge to run away had dwindled and she felt removed from it all somehow, rather than totally dropped in the middle of someone’s worst nightmare to be used as their pawn for reasons she was totally unsure of, but hey, life was like that sometimes, wasn’t it, and Al had a hard-on. He’d gone to stroking her thigh with tight circular motions inching his way higher, ever inward as he stroked and, for the past couple of minutes, she’d been unconsciously easing her thighs apart to encourage him. She was as slippery as he was hard, she realized. How the hell could that be when he had just dropped such a bomb? She forced her attention back to his words.

“You look like her, Diana, I mean. Oh it’s not a startling resemblance, not like twins or anything, but something in your mannerisms, your coloring, the way you carry yourself, and dreams, well dreams see detail in a different way. I’m not sure Derrick even noticed the resemblance, but then he wasn’t the one in your dreams, was he?” He broke off and caught his breath, which she realized was coming in desperate little gasps. “You wanna fuck, Leah? Because I’m desperate here, and you doing that only makes matters worse.” He nodded to her chest.

She was surprised to find that she was fondling her breasts. She didn’t remember when she started, but with the discovery, she realized that her whole body tingled with desperate arousal, the same desperate arousal she’d felt when they’d gone to Dr. Clyde’s office in the dream. “Yes, I do wanna fuck, actually.” It did enter her mind as he undid her jeans and slid them down over her hips, as she returned the favor that there was absolutely nothing arousing the situation in which they found themselves, and yet she was horny as hell. He shoved up her blouse and nibbled on her nipples in turn. She’d not taken the time for a bra since he’d been distressed and anxious to get away from her house as though Dr. Clyde might be listening from the water pipes or something. Perhaps he was, for all she knew, but as Al shoved her jeans and panties off onto the grass, she didn’t care. As Al fingered her open and kneed her legs a part to make room for himself, she didn’t even care that he wasn’t using a condom.

It was the insistent ping, ping, ping of the alarm on her cell phone getting louder and louder that brought her back to herself with a little yelp and a jerk that nearly unseated her from the booth at Eddie’s diner. The alarm on her phone was drawing the disapproving stares of the lovers and the waitress, who stood over their table with her hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry! Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Leah gasped.

As she fumbled in her bag for the offending device, Al jerked convulsively into wakefulness from his side of the booth and catapulted to a standing position beside the table with a none-to-subtle, “What the fu …” Color rose to his cheeks as he took in his surroundings and settled back into the booth just as Leah shut off the alarm, still apologizing to the waitress and her fellow diners.

“Is everything all right?” The waitress studied them over the rim of her tortoise shell glasses and nodded down to their breakfasts, which were still steaming. “For a second there, I thought you were dead.” She offered a little laugh that was just this side of being really nervous.

“Fine, everything’s fine,” Leah managed. “I’m so sorry. Studying for exams, you know? Pulled too many late nights with too much caffeine.”

The waitress forced a smile that said she didn’t believe that for one minute, but this was Eddie’s Diner. She probably had actually seen stranger things, though not likely tonight she hadn’t.

They both watched as she returned to the counter, then Leah leaned across her waffles and hissed at Al, “you said we weren’t dreaming. You said this was real.”

“This is real,” he picked up a piece of bacon with his fingers and nibbled at it suspiciously.

“Then what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know.” He shoved the rest of the meat in his mouth and spoke around it. “At some point we were pulled back into your dream.”

“It couldn’t have been my dream. I’ve never been to that campground. My parents never took me camping.”

“Do you really think that matters at this point?” He said, shoveling in a huge bite of eggs. Then he nodded to her plate. “Eat, Leah. Whatever the hell’s going on, visiting the dream world unexpectedly like we just did takes a lot of energy.” And he was right. She was starving.

For a moment, the feeding frenzy took priority and, as they ate, Leah noticed that her head was beginning to clear. “The alarm. It pulled us back, didn’t it? I set it for yesterday. I had a Skype session with a client in another time zone. For me it was the middle of the night. I guess I forgot to delete it.” She reached for her phone to delete the alarm.

“No wait, don’t delete it. Set another one for a half an hour. In fact set it to go off every half hour.” He pulled his phone out. “I’ll do the same, only at the fifteen minute mark of yours. That way even if we are pulled back into the dream, we’ll have a built-in safety every fifteen minutes. As you can see,” he nodded down to their half-empty plates, “we weren’t in the dream but a few minutes and yet it felt much longer. Time runs differently in the dream world.”

As they set the alarms, the lovers paid and made their exit, and there was no one else in the diner. It was too early for the breakfast crowd and too late for the bar crowd. Oh, there might still be the odd rendezvous or someone working really strange hours, even a student or two, but not at the moment, so Al took advantage of the quiet. “Excuse me,” he said to the waitress, as she filled their cups, “but I want to apologize for what just happened and ask,” he shifted nervously and glanced down at his plate, “well could you tell me, did we do anything really embarrassing?”

“Well you didn’t drool or snore if that’s what you mean. It’s just that for a minute there, I couldn’t wake you up. Scared me really. I thought maybe you were on something. Thought I’d have to call the cops, but I’ve seen you both in here before, so then I start thinking that something sinister is going on.” She offered an embarrassed shrug. “You wouldn’t believe some of the strange things that go on at Eddie’s on the graveyard shift,” she gave them a dramatic roll of her eyes, “but then the alarm went off and you both woke up, so I figure no harm no foul as long as you pay the bill and tip the waitress for her efforts.” She offered them a broad smile.

Al dug in his pocket. “Here, I’ll just take care of that now and give you a little peace of mind.” He handed her a wad of bills.

She glanced down at the money and smiled back at him. “Hon, you can sleep in my booth any time.” Then she left as two retired men came through the door and settled at the counter.

For another moment, they shoveled in the food and Leah was just reaching for her last sausage link when it hit her. “Al, you said that the message in my dream journal is the same message that Dr. Clyde used to try and get through to Diana.”

america-artist-art-paintings-prints-note-cards-by-howard-chandler-christy-nude-women-reading-approximate-original-size-18x16“That’s right, why?”

“Well, what about your message? What exactly did it say?”

He took a slow sip of his coffee and wiped his hands on his napkin, delay tactics, she thought, but at last he spoke. “You have to be punished. It’s the only way you’ll get any relief. Until you take what’s coming to you, there’s no real satisfaction, and no walking away. Stay in the dream.” It’s been recurring since Diana’s death, but then it all but stopped until I met you.”

The room felt suddenly ice cold and gooseflesh climbed Leah’s spine on little barbed feet. “Al, why would you get that message? That message sounds like it’s intended for Dr. Clyde. From Diana.”


The Psychology of Dreams 101: Episode 8

f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6aWelcome to Part 8 of The Psychology of Dreams, in which things turn dark. Awe, come on! You knew they would, didn’t you?

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, and her psychology of dreams teacher, Al. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

No, I didn’t dream it, and I’m seriously hoping I don’t get punished like Leah and Al do if I don’t get it quite right, but The Psychology of Dreams did bubble up from somewhere in my unconscious and I had to share it. Since then,the Muse has been back knocking around in my imagination in some pretty unusual ways, and never taking the path I’d expect, but then dreams are like that, aren’t they? Enjoy episode 8!


I have no idea how long this little ditty will be, nor where it will lead, but I’m willing if you are. Please, read and enjoy The Psychology of Dreams 101.


If you’ve missed Episode 7, find it here. 


WARNING ADULT CONTENT! It occurred to me halfway through writing this episode of The Psychology of Dreams that this little tale might be a bit of a shock for those who just finished reading In The Flesh. While In The Flesh is dark paranormal romance, The Psychology of Dreams is just raunchy, fun erotica, a bit of light relief after Magda and her Consortium. Be warned, light it may be, but filthy it most certainly is. Enjoy!


Chapter 8 In The Dark

“In a coma.” Leah repeated the words in barely more than a whisper. A wave of vertigo washed over her and the diner suddenly tilted as though they were on the deck of a ship at sea. “In a coma,” she said again, a little louder, and the lovers shot her a worried glance from across their sundae, full spoons halfway to their mouths. Before she realized what was happening she grabbed Al by the shirtsleeve and all but dragged him from the booth, with him slapping down twenty dollars for the untouched food as she headed for the door, the lovers and the waitress looking on.

“Leah. Leah! What are you doing?”

She shoved through the door, him right behind her. “I’m going to your car and you’re going to drive us to Dr. Clyde and have him undo the hypnosis and then,” she turned so fast that he all but ran into her, and they stood nose to nose in the darkened parking lot, “then I’ll have a thought as to whether I want to bring charges.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back so quickly that the vertebrae in her neck popped in protest. “What are you going to charge him with, Leah? What? I can’t prove he’s done anything, and it wasn’t like the dreams were bad, was it?”

“And that’s another thing,” she said, jerking her arm away so hard that she nearly went over backward, “you were in the dream; you seem to know exactly what was going on or how else would you know that he’s manipulating my dreams unless you’re doing the same thing?”

“Seriously? You think I would do that?” He seemed offended by the obvious.

“Under the circumstances, what the hell do you expect me to think? And if it’s not so, then how about we ask the good doctor to send us into your dream instead of mine, hmm? How about we give that a try?”

“Christ, Leah, do you really think it’s that simple? You make it sound like Derrick is going to put us on a plane and send us to Mexico or something. It doesn’t work that way, and I really don’t want to discuss this with you in the parking lot at Eddie’s Diner.” He took her arm again, this time more gently, and she didn’t protest as he guided her to his car. “Get in.”

She settled into the care in another wave of vertigo, struggling to get her head around the horror story he’d just told her dark moon image_xl_6338206and the fear that she might have just landed in the middle of her own nightmare. When the feeling of being at sea passed and she could focus again, she realized they were heading out Highway 26 toward Mount Hood, and she was fine with that, though it disturbed her a bit that she still trusted him. Once again, in spite of all his reassurances to the contrary, she wondered if they were still in a dream.

When he remained silent, offering no information, she screwed up her courage and asked what happened next, even though she was pretty sure she would be sorry she asked.

For a long moment, she thought he was ‘t going to answer her, and she was about to ask again, more adamantly, when he hauled a deep breath into his lungs and spoke. “Obviously I couldn’t wake them up, but I could find nothing wrong either of them. For all practical purposes, they seemed to be simply sleeping, only no matter what I did, I couldn’t wake them of. Of course I wanted to make it right as soon as possible, I thought if I could pull them out of it before morning, then I would send Diana on her way, that was the woman’s name. She was a mutual friend – and no one would be the wiser. As for Derrick, well I wasn’t sure if I’d kill him or just beat the shit out of him. I was bigger then. I worked out in a boxing gym for stress relief, lifted a few weights.” She could see the curve of his lips in the pale lighting of the dashboard, a smile that was anything but happy, as he found himself transported into the past he’d rather not remember. “Looks like we’ve changed roles. Though I haven’t seen him since …” His voice drifted off and she could almost hear him thinking.

“I tried everything I could think of. You have to understand, I was scared. I was desperate.”

“What did you do?” The feeling of dread around her was thicker than the darkness in the evergreen woods on both sides of the road.

He glanced over at her as though she’d just asked the stupidest question ever. “I did the only thing I could do. I entered their dream.”

“Like you did mine?”

His laugh was nearly a growl, surprising in its bitterness. “Oh it was nothing like what’s happening with you, Leah. I didn’t come into your dream intentionally. You dreamed me there, and I have no idea how I actually became conscious of being there.”

“Then what?” She asked, seriously not wanting to know the answer and yet knowing she had to – needed to.

“I did the self-hypnosis ritual we’d been perfecting, careful to make sure all the safeties were in place. I was always the Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bmost safety conscious of the two of us, and yet it was Derrick’s willingness to take a risk that had been responsible for a log of our break-throughs. Anyway, never mind that. It doesn’t matter now, except that it would appear nothing has changed. In my case, it was wise to take every precaution though. I was the only one in the waking world who had a clue how to deal with what was going on, and even I could barely get my head round it. I was afraid they wouldn’t let me in. That was always a possibility, that a subject wouldn’t let us in or they’d push us out. It happened occasionally. In fact it was responsible for almost 75% of our failures. I needn’t have worried though. Derrick all but dragged me on by the collar.”

“What, did he want you for a bit of ménage? Was that it?”

“He needed my help.”

“For what?”

“To talk Diana back from the dream.”

“Jesus,” she whispered, as another wave of vertigo hit, and she laid her head back against the seat and forced her feet hard against the floorboard to keep the car from tilting.

He continued. “I found them both in the middle of some dark city. I didn’t recognize it, but it was a sea of skyscrapers that went on forever. You know how dreams are. The were so high that, from the roof, you could barely see the street below, and they were standing on the roof of the highest one.’

There was another pause as he turned off highway 26 onto a forest service road that led deep into the woods, and her chest clenched and vertigo gave way to panic.

“Where are you taking me?” She undid her seatbelt, ready to leap from the car, which had slowed for the turn. “Al where the hell are you taking me?”

“Leah! Leah, calm down.” He stopped the car gently, and reached across to touch her shoulder, and the panic dissipated with the sound of his voice. “I’m sorry, Leah. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I should have asked first before I decided to bring you here. It’s just a campground where my parents used to take me when I was a kid. We always spent a week here at huckleberry picking time.”

That still didn’t make her feel really comfortable, but then nothing did right now.

“I can go somewhere else if you’d like. It’s just that I wanted … I just wanted to be some place neutral, you know, someplace with good memories attached to it.” When she made no effort to jump out of the car and make a run for it — not that she was sure her legs would have supported her anyway – he reached across her and buckled the belt back around her.

“No it’s fine. I’m fine.” She wasn’t, but she reminded herself again that she wasn’t likely to be any better wherever they were.

He started the engine again, and they drove in silence for a few more minutes before he turned into the deserted campground and, in another wave of vertigo, her adrenaline spiked at all the horrid possibilities of being alone with a man she barely knew, and yet here she was. Here they were, and Al was the only one who could tell her what was going on. He drove to a grassy spot near the back of the campground where a stream gurgled softly over rocks, and she couldn’t help feeling they were still in a dream, though a peaceful dream. Well, peaceful at least for the moment. No doubt that would change when he continued his tale.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” He asked.

“No. I’m not all right, but here’s fine. It’s nice.”

“Leah, I would never hurt you.”

“I know.” And she did, thought she didn’t know how she knew. She opened the door and stepped out into the velvety Writing pen and birds 1_xl_20156020warmth of one of the few summer nights in the Northwest that didn’t have at least a little nip to it. Not looking to see if he followed suit, she moved across the grass and sat down by the edge of the water, which filled the quiet night with its tinkle and murmur. Somewhere close by an owl trilled in the trees. Al came and sat beside her. For a moment neither of
them said anything. For a moment she wanted to pretend that everything was normal. For a moment she wanted to pretend that they were just two lovers who had found a lovely spot for some sex al fresco and, for a moment, she wanted pull him down on the grass and make love to him. For a moment she knew he would let her if she did. She brushed her hand against his and he caught her fingers in his slightly calloused ones and gave them a squeeze. She was just about to lean on and kiss him when he shattered all illusion.

“I said that Derrick was trying to talk Diana back from the dream. It was more than that, Leah, way more than that. He was trying to talk her back from the rooftop. She was about to jump.”


The Psychology of Dreams 101 Part 7

f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6aWelcome to Part 7 of The Psychology of Dreams, in which Al tells all … or at least some of it.

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, and her psychology of dreams teacher, Al. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

No, I didn’t dream it, and I’m seriously hoping I don’t get punished like Leah and Al do if I don’t get it quite right, but The Psychology of Dreams did bubble up from somewhere in my unconscious and I had to share it. Since then,the Muse has been back knocking around in my imagination in some pretty unusual ways, and never taking the path I’d expect, but then dreams are like that, aren’t they? Enjoy episode 7!


I have no idea how long this little ditty will be, nor where it will lead, but I’m willing if you are. Please, read and enjoy The Psychology of Dreams 101.


If you’ve missed Episode 6, find it here. 


WARNING ADULT CONTENT! It occurred to me halfway through writing this episode of The Psychology of Dreams that this little tale might be a bit of a shock for those who just finished reading In The Flesh. While In The Flesh is dark paranormal romance, The Psychology of Dreams is just raunchy, fun erotica, a bit of light relief after Magda and her Consortium. Be warned, light it may be, but filthy it most certainly is. Enjoy!


Chapter 7 Deceit and Permeable Dreams

At Eddie’s All-Night Diner, the waitress took in their disheveled appearance with only a quirk of a smile, then she headed for the counter and the coffee pot. The first thing couples wanted when they came into Eddie’s in the middle of the night was coffee. Eddie’s had a reputation with lovers – both the starry-eyed first love kind and the not-here-with-the-spouse kind. If she only knew, Leah thought. But then again, the woman did have that seen it all look about her. Waitresses, if they’d been in the business very long – especially at Eddie’s – became Renaissance women, with a little knowledge about almost everything. No doubt that knowledge by osmosis and by the unavoidable bit eavesdropping involved at least some facts about BDSM and a good smattering of psychology as well.

They settled into a booth in the back, having barely spoken to each other on the drive over. Whatever was eating at Al had kept him zip-lipped until they were safely ensconced in the booth. Even then, he waited until the waitress brought coffee and left them to peruse the menus, all the while, he kept looking around like he was a crook expecting the police any minute.

“Al, what’s so important that you had to drag me out my bed at stupid o’clock?”

He sipped his coffee, burnt his tongue, then cursed.

“Al?” The knot that had been growing in her stomach since the ringing of the doorbell dragged her up from the dream world tightened.

He leaned over the table until their heads nearly touched across the Formica and spoke in a hurried whisper. “I Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bthink Derrick is manipulating your dreams.” He gave a quick glance over each shoulder to make sure no one overheard.

“Manipulating my dream?” Leah sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “How the hell can he manipulate my dream?”

“Shshs!” He hissed at her just as the waitress showed up, and they both offered her a forced smile. To Leah’s surprise, Al ordered the jumbo Lumberjack breakfast complete with extra eggs. Even more to her surprise, she ordered the Death by Chocolate Belgian Waffles with half a pig’s worth of sausage. Suddenly she felt like she could eat the whole menu. The waitress’ smile grew wider and wider as she wrote down their order. Lots of lovers came into Eddie’s ravenous after their night of passion. From the size of their order, she must have thought they’d just come from a right proper orgy. The clench low in Leah’s belly reminded her once again, that while the woman might not have been far off in her speculations, sadly no one had gotten any satisfaction at this particular orgy. And then it hit her. “Wait a minute. This isn’t part of the dream, is it?” she said as the waitress sauntered away.

“No, it isn’t. It’s real. Remember Derrick said that if someone rang the doorbell or if there was some emergency, the word he gave us wouldn’t work any longer. This is real.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he said with another glance around.

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I’m sure! All right? I am. Really.”

“Well then … If you’re sure. It’s hard to tell anymore.’” With a shiver, she sipped her coffee then held her cup between her hands for the warmth, recalling what they’d been talking about before the urgent need to order enough breakfast for the whole neighborhood. “Now then, tell me how Dr. Clyde can be manipulating our dreams.”

“It’s pretty simple really – at least in theory. He creates a sort of door into your dream using the same basic hypnosis technique he used on us.”

She recalled them both being surprised when the good doctor told them he’d already hypnotized them and that the word was in place. She remembered nothing. He didn’t even tell them to relax or look into his eyes or anything like that. Just suddenly, he said they were done.

Al continued. “He links it to the word that keeps us under. As long as we’re sleeping soundly and we’re in a safe, undisturbed situation, he can come and go at will. I didn’t know he’d perfected the technique. We could only get it to work sporadically.” He looked down into his cup, and she thought she saw a shudder climb his spine. “The few dreams we were able to sneak in to through the back door were not ones very pleasant to be in, not like yours.”

“We?” She definitely felt the shudder crawl up her back. “What do you mean we?”

He shifted in his seat and rearranged his cutlery, holding her gaze. “You may have noticed that on the syllabus and on my class handouts, it says Instructor: Doctor Aldrich Foster. I worked with Derrick — post doctoral research on the permeability of dreams.”

“Permeability of dreams? You mean like…”

“I mean Like what Derrick is doing with us. He shows up in your dream and makes … suggestions.”

“Suggestions? Suggestions!?” The lovers at the table across from them glanced up from the raspberry chocolate truffle sundae they were sharing to see what the fuss was about, and Leah took a deep breath in an unsuccessful effort to calm herself, as the stomach knot tightened still further, then she spoke between barely parted lips. “He’s a fucking pervert, that’s what he is. How the hell can he be in my dreams unless I dream him? It was my damned dream? Wasn’t it?” her voice rose again, and this time the lovers shifted nervously and pretended not to hear.

Al shushed her and tried to grab her hand, but she pulled it away. “Listen to me, Leah. You have to listen to me, dark moon image_xl_6338206whether you like what I have to say or not. You need to understand.”

She glared and him and braced her feet against the floor in a useless attempt to keep from trembling. She wasn’t sure if it was from fear or anger though she suspected it was a good mix of the two. “So enlighten me, Dr. Foster.”

She felt just a hint of satisfaction when he flinched at the use of his title, but he squared his shoulders and inhaled like he was about to go deep-sea diving without oxygen. “It was promising research – really promising. I mean we both thought it was possible, thought that maybe through hypnosis there might be a way to influence another person’s dreams, not just influence them, but actually enter the dream state with the subject. Believe me, Leah,” he raised his hand as though he feared her response, “Our plan was to help people. Think about it; a surgeon can cut away damaged tissue, go in and reconnect, bypass, heal a person by actually getting inside their body, finding what’s wrong, and making it better. But while psychologists and psychiatrists can diagnose and treat symptoms, we can never actually cut into the part that hurts, we can never actually see for ourselves what the problem is because the mind is not flesh and bone; it’s not muscle and sinew we can cut into or stitch back together. Think what an advance for medical science it would be – and advance for human health, if we could walk with a troubled person in their dream world and heal them from the inside. Like a surgeon for the mind.”

He leaned over the table closer to her, his eyes bright with conviction. “I mean imagine what it would mean if we could actually find a way in?” When she did nothing but stare at him, he continued. “Medical doctors have all sorts of tools at their disposal. They have X-rays, MRIs, CT scans, and while we can do brain scans, while we can look into the actual physiology of the brain, we have no way of doing the same with the mind, no way of understanding on a psychological level, anything beyond the outward symptoms and what the patient is willing to share with us. And what if the patient can’t tell us? What if the patient is so traumatized they can’t speak or what if they can’t even remember? All we have to go on is the obvious and what the patient or client tells us; and people lie, Leah, people are notorious liars – especially when it comes to their mental health.”

“So you thought you’d just shove right in and help yourself to my dreams, did you? Christ, Al, that’s sick!”

“No! Leah, no! It wasn’t like that. Honestly. We never attempted anything on anyone who didn’t completely understand the process, what we were doing and the risks, which were minimal. We were very careful to be sure of that. We never tried the dream permeation technique without our subjects’ total and complete consent. Or at least I didn’t.” Suddenly he was toying with his cutlery again, avoiding her gaze, and the knot in her stomach turned to ice.

They sat in silence as the waitress delivered their food and refilled their cups. The waffles didn’t look nearly as appetizing as they’d sounded a few minutes ago, and Leah physically fought the urge to run away. She was in this mess up to her ears. She had to know the whole story, and then she would kill Al. Surely the waitress would bring her a steak knife. After that, she’d kill Dr. fucking Clyde and tie him to his own goddamned desk bare ass in the air. But first, she had to know. “What happened?”

“She was a friend of Derrick’s.” the fine muscles along Al’s cheekbones twitched. “More than a friend, I suppose, though I didn’t know that at the time. They were drunk. He took her to the office and then the lab we shared, and when he told her what we were doing, she insisted that he try it on her. He couldn’t refuse. He always was a bit full of himself, Derrick.” He sat for a long moment as though he had suddenly been hypnotized, and maybe he had been by whatever memories were going through his head.

Leah watched him, hands clenched around the napkin in her lap, feeling a chill that didn’t come from the AC. She watched him and waited, and when the silence became almost worse than the knowing, she asked the question she was pretty sure she’d rather not know the answer to. “And then what happened?”IMG_5339

He looked up at her as though he’d only just remembered she was there. “I found them the next morning, asleep in one of the beds we used for our subjects.”

“Well you did say they were drunk.” Funny how the brain always grasps for the easy answer. That was it, of course it was! Had to be. They were drunk, and the project got cut because, well drunk and disorderly … drunk and disorderly what? Drunk and disorderly sleeping?

With an effort, he held her gaze, his hands now clenched in fists on either side of the jumbo Lumberjack breakfast getting cold on the plate. “Leah, they were in a coma.”


The Psychology of Dreams 101: Episode 5

f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6aIn Part 5 of The Psychology of Dreams, Leah and Al begin to wonder if they’re really having a Groundhogs Day, Comedy of Errors, sort of experience rather than a punishment dream.

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, and her psychology of dreams teacher, Al. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

No, I didn’t dream it, and I’m seriously hoping I don’t get punished like Leah and Al do if I don’t get it quite right, but The Psychology of Dreams did bubble up from somewhere in my unconscious and I had to share it. Since then,the Muse has been back knocking around in my imagination in some pretty unusual ways, and never taking the path I’d expect, but then dreams are like that, aren’t they? Enjoy episode 5!


I have no idea how long this little ditty will be, nor where it will lead, but I’m willing if you are. Please, read and enjoy The Psychology of Dreams 101.


If you’ve missed Episode 4, find it here. 


Chapter 5 In Which Nothing Happened … Again?

“Now then, let’s see if we can’t ease the pain in you lovely little bottom before we get on with the spanking, ” Dr. Clyde said before Leah could ask what he meant by his remark about them never getting out of the dream. He rummaged and rattled through the surprising abundance of the desk drawers until he came up with a tube of something she couldn’t see in her bent-over position, but as he unscrewed the lid, she immediately smelled peaches. There was the sound of something squirting, and then she felt the doctor’s large palm spreading cool lotion against her burning butt. She sighed and clenched at the pleasure of it. “There now. That feels better, doesn’t it hon? Just what the doctor ordered. We don’t want that lovely ass of yours too wounded just yet. Your punishment has hardly begun, after all.”

“Peach? Seriously?” Al said, coming closer to observe and sniffing as he did so.7401867966b49d9e25e799def0c09dae

“Yup! And it’s edible too,” Dr. Clyde said. “Taste! Not like that, Dear God, Al, put the tube down, and use your imagination. You’re in a dream for fuck sake! And you,” he turned his attention back to Leah, “you lie still. You’re being punished. You don’t get to see what’s happening. You have to trust the dream, trust that what happens next is all a part of the experience.”

“Enough of the psycho-babble, already, Derrick. We get it,” Al protested. There was a shuffling of male bodies behind her, and Leah felt a different set of hands, clearly Al’s hands. They were not quite as large as Dr. Clyde’s, but they were slightly calloused. She wondered how someone who taught courses on dream psychology got calloused hands. He gently cupped her hips, carful not to touch her wounded left ass-cheek. Then she felt the humid heat of his breath just before his warm wet tongue pressed against the place where her thigh met her left buttock.

“Oh God!” she managed, as the unexpected, but delightful, sinuous lap of his tongue up the rounded contour of her ass cheek moved inward, closer to the cleft that she knew would taste nothing at all like peaches. Meanwhile the doctor droned on that though at one point in our evolution, we liked the scents and odors of the body, at present that was less the case, and scented and flavored lubricants and lotions for sex often made the partners more comfortable with their personal smells.

“I like her smell,” came Al’s muffled reply. “It’s her I want to taste, not fucking peaches.”

“Wait a minute, you can smell me? I mean I’m sure you can smell me now, but … before?”

“I ha’ a ‘en’ative nothe,” came the slurped reply against her ass, and she Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bdecided right then and there that she was just fine with that.

“I fail to see how eating her out is going to help ease the pain at all,” Dr. Clyde observed as Al licked and slurped and nibbled ever closer to the ache at the center that had nothing to do with the spanking.

“It’s my dream.” Leah protested, wriggling and squirming to open her legs against the restraint of the panties around her knees. “If I want him to do … that, then surely he should do that.”

“It’s hardly a punishment though, is it?” the doctor said, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest observing Al’s efforts from the edge of Leah’s peripheral vision.

“Who the fuck ca — res?” she managed with a little gasp as Al fingered her open to make room for his very talented tongue.

She was just getting into it, just beginning to think that maybe Al’s tongue was prehensile when she heard a grunt and opened her eyes to discover the good doctor had moved closer, and he was now observing with his trousers open, his gaze locked on what Al was doing to her bottom and his fist locked around his heavy erection, which pointed accusingly at her ass as he shifted his hips to free his balls. Not that she wanted him to stop or anything, but she was just about to comment that she failed to see what his cock stroking had to do with her punishment when the sudden absence of a warm tongue from her nether region and the sound of a zipper opening told her that, in solidarity with his fellow male, Al had just freed Simba. She pressed her legs tightly together and wriggled just enough for the binding panties to drop to the floor. Then she kicked them aside and she was free too, opening her thighs anticipating more than Al’s tongue when the damn doctor called a halt to all activities.

“Now what!?” Both she and Al growled at the same time.

“You’re not supposed to fuck her, Al. You’re supposed to spank her, punish her, make her repentant.”
“Oh I am,” she managed breathlessly. “I’m very repentant. I’ll never write down fake dreams again.”

Dr. Clyde ignored her. “Look, in the dreams, you’re both being punished. No
one gets satisfaction until the punishment is complete.”

“Seriously?” Leah said, and Al cursed profusely. Under different circumstance to hear such foul language from the mouth of her mild-mannered instructor would have shocked her, but at the moment, she was inclined to agree with him completely.

“Well, I suppose I could have some satisfaction,” the doctor added with a little shrug of his broad shoulders, and the movement made his dick look like it shrugged too in its anxious agreement. “After all it’s not my dream and I’m not being punished.” Cock in hand, he insinuated himself between Al and Leah and with a quiver of anticipation, Leah wriggled against the table as he fingered her open.

“Wait a minute,” Al said. “This is Leah’s dream. What if she doesn’t want you to fuck her? What if she just wants to get on with it?”

“No, no! That’s all right. I’m good with it. I’m fine.” Leah just wanted someone to fuck her and soon! Since it was her dream, why not the good doctor? He was Dreams image 2IMG_0351certainly ready.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t put your cock in her mouth if you want,” Dr. Clyde said to Al. “I suppose that could be considered punishment. It could certainly be considered humiliation in most BDSM circles, if done under the right circumstances, or so I’m told,” he added quickly.

“What if I put my cock up your ass instead,” Al said, shocking both Leah and Dr. Clyde as he yanked at the waistband of the man’s expensive trousers.

Before the doctor could protest, Leah added her own bit of profanity to the blue language hanging in the air. “It’s my dream, damn it! So just put your fucking cock in his fucking hole already! I don’t see how that can affect my punishment. And when you do, I want to see, so Doc, if you’ll just hand me the mirror.”

“Wait a minute, Al’s the Dom, not you.”

“Shut up, Doc!” both she and Al said at once.

“It’s my dream,” Leah repeated, “Besides,” she added quickly, “I’ve never seen a man fuck a man before.”

“Come to think of it, neither have I,” Dr. Clyde said. “Do you think you can angle the mirror so I can see too.”

And just like that! They were all back in the shrink’s office again. “Nothing happened! Nothing the fuck happened!” Leah said, slamming both hands down hard on Dr. Clyde’s ginormous desk.

“What the hell’s going on?” Al came to her side, limping slightly. “If anything the situation’s getting worse.” He nodded down to the enormous erection putting serious strain on the fly of his jeans and making him walk like he’d had a rough day at the races.

“He’s right,” Leah said. “You left us in a terrible state, both ready to explode, both bent over the damn desk with our pants down, and you …”

“You were sandwiched in the middle,” Al finished her sentence breathlessly.

“Oh my!” Dr. Clyde laid his pen down on the legal pad and tugged at his paisley tie, then he leaned over the desk giving them his full attention. “Well that was a very inconvenient place to call a halt to proceedings, wasn’t it? But I certainly didn’t do it. While I appreciate your high opinion of my abilities, believe me, if I were about to be the jam in a sandwich, well I certainly would stuck around for that. It all sounds rather delightful to me. “ He picked up the pen again and wrote on his legal pad in enormous block letters, NOTHING HAPPENED! “It sounds like you’re getting farther and farther off track. Tell me,” he said, rubbing his hand over his clean-shaven chin, “is it possible that you’re both still dreaming?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course we’re not still dreaming or we wouldn’t be here” Leah said, plopping herself down on the sofa, then standing quickly with a yelp, rubbing the stinging flesh of her left butt cheek.

“What’s the matter?” the doctor asked.

“It’s just that Al spanked me in the dream and you said it was too hard and there was a welt shaped like his belt and …” she fumbled open her jeans and bared d21d10b7afd3ca521ab7d563891fc7a7her ass-cheek from its snug position in transparent red panties, both men leaning anxiously toward the southern exposure. As she very gingerly slid aside the panties, the room was suddenly awash in the scent of peaches.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Forgetting himself, Al reached out and traced an index finger over the stinging buttock, and in spite of the pain, Leah clenched and wriggled and swallowed back a little moan.

Dr. Clyde shook his head and offered a smug chuckle. “Sorry you two, but you can’t put the blame on me when you’re obviously still dreaming.”


The Psychology of Dreams 101: Part Three

Writing pen and birds 1_xl_20156020In Part 3 of The Psychology of Dreams, Leah and Al decide to take their punishment dreams to a hypnotherapist.

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, has in the second instalment of The Psychology of Dreams 101.

No, I didn’t dream it, and I’m seriously hoping I don’t get punished like Leah and Al do if I don’t get it quite right, but The Psychology of Dreams did bubble up from somewhere in my unconscious last week, and I had to share it. The Muse has been back knocking around in my imagination again, so today I’m back with another instalment of a new serial.

The Psychology of Dreams 101, is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

I have no idea how long this little ditty will be, nor where it will lead, but I’m willing if you are. Please, read and enjoy The Psychology of Dreams 101.

Part 3 of The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a quick and dirty today, finished hurriedly after I sent a mega-manuscript off yesterday evening, so please excuse any typos, as I’m out the door and will hopefully give one more read-through when I get back home.

If you missed episode 2, find it here.



Chapter 3 Prepping to Dream

“When I wake up,” Leah said, “well, I’m always so … aroused, I can’t do anything until I … touch myself. And then, after I’ve gotten some relief, I feel guilty, oh not that I’ve masturbated,” she waved a hand to negate any comments he might make about her guilt. “I’ve masturbated since I was eleven, and being on my own, working from home as I do … well, it’s an outlet.”

“I understand,” Al said gently, “as one practitioner of self-love to another.” He said it with a sympathetic smile and not a trace of a blush, but Leah reminded herself that the man did have a PhD in some obscure branch of psychology. She wondered how he ended up teaching a class on dreams for an obscure adult education program, but that was a thought for another time.

She continued. “What I do feel guilty about is … well it always feels like there’s a disconnect, you know? Like maybe if I’d let you finish punishing me, if I could have slept through to that point, then maybe I could dream better, you know, do it right, see what’s supposed to happen next.” She quickly added, “I know that sounds absurd, like dreams are a series on TV and you can get them in a box set once the season finishes.”

He chuckled at that, but made no comment. For a moment they sat in silence with him nodding his agreement. Then he cleared his throat, once then again, and tugged at his open shirt collar. “I sometimes feel like if I could just stay in the dream until after the punishment then, I don’t know, then something really important would be revealed, if that makes any sense.”

“Me to!” She scooted her chair closer and lowered her voice, ‘like if I take my punishment, the reward will be the best dream ever. I suppose that sounds silly, because how can a dream be a reward? But that’s how it feels, that I can’t get to the dream, the really important dream, until I can make it through the punishment. Do you think maybe I should try some lucid dreaming techniques?”

“Wow! I see that you have read way ahead,” he said. “While many people find lucid dreaming an intriguing possibility, and I always encouraged my students to play around with lucid dreaming, it’s been my experience, even when I have a lucid dream, even when I’m aware that I’m dreaming, I’m never able to exert any control.”

“I had a great aunt who used to make a tea of valerian root, passion flower anise and several other Sleeping woman reading181340322466666994_IswNAb85_bherbs whenever she wanted prophetic dreams.” She gave a little shrug. “She was Wiccan back before it was cool, and she was a bit scary at times.”

He chuckled softly. “Magic mushrooms, hallucinogenic drugs, vision quests, all those sorts of things, are often tools used for enlightenment. Certainly forms of physical abuse, deprivation, fasting, even flagellation, were all in an effort to reach the divine or the deeper self. Do you think we’ll find enlightenment if we get through our punishment dreams, Leah?”

“Maybe just the perfect orgasm.”

“Well who wouldn’t want that?” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

There was another silence, and more staring down at their feet, then he looked up at her. “Perhaps it’s all the same thing.”

When she only offered a blank stare, he rubbed his palms against his trousers and squared his shoulders. “I mean your aunt took a mix of herbs, some people take drugs, others take beatings, but all with a similar end in mind.”


“Leah,” his gaze from beneath the glasses felt almost physical, “you said you knew a little bit about BDSM. Do you know what subspace is?”

Leah felt her pulse jump. “I know a little, what I’ve read is all. Isn’t it sort of the altered state where submissives go in their heads, sort of a separation from their bodies after prolonged pain or pleasure?”

He nodded still holding her gaze.

“You think that our dreams are trying to get us into … the equivalent of subspace to access the mega-dream or whatever it is?”

“It’s a possibility, isn’t it? I mean we never get there in the dream and we always wake up unsatisfied with the distinct impression that we would have understood if we’d only stayed with it.”

“And what about the notes?” She said. “They seem to be saying just the opposite. They seem to be assuring us that we’re doing it right, and yet we get nowhere.”

“But a part of reaching that altered state is letting go. We both come back from the dream because we’re so desperate for an orgasm. We don’t stick around long enough to get to subspace or whatever the dream equivalent is. I took a meditation class once and the instructor told us that the more we think about getting it right when we’re trying to meditate, the less likely we’ll ever actually meditate. There’s something about letting go, about giving up expectations and giving oneself over to the experience. I understand that subs give over the control of their orgasm to their Doms, and that they can maintain that state of heightened arousal. That the orgasm isn’t the end all, but a part of the whole journey, and sometimes not even that. Of course my knowledge of BDSM is limited,” he added quickly.

“But isn’t that what falling asleep is essentially — the giving up of control to the unconscious?” Leah gave an embarrassed little laugh. “I’ll admit I find the spanking both arousing and frightening, but I want what’s at then end of it, not the spanking itself.”

“But what if you didn’t? What if you decided just to go along for the ride? What if you were to go deep into the spanking, the experience of the sting, of the pain, of the tingle? What if that in itself was the whole of the experience you were looking for? Then what?”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t know how to do that, does it? For me, it’s never been
a lucid dream. I never know I’ve dreamed until I wake up. I suppose we could try herbs. I’m not comfortable with drugs. There’s hypnosis, maybe.”

“I know a psychiatrist who does hypnotherapy. It might be worth a try,” Al said. “Let me talk to him.”


Dr. Derrick Clyde was a big man, several inches taller than Al and much broader of shoulder. While Al had a lean endurance athlete’s build, Dr. Clyde could have been a body builder. He was deep-chested and, though he wore a sports jacket when they met him in his uptown office, there was no disguising the man’s physique.

“Let me get this straight, the two of you want me to hypnotize you to stay in a recurring dream, a recurring, kinky, erotic dream until it finishes so that you can both have some mega-dream that you
believe will follow if you take your punishment?”

“That about sums it up,” Al said, patting Leah’s hand reassuringly. “I know it’s a strange request, but –”

“All right,” Dr. Clyde cut him off at the pass. “I’ll do it.” Before either of them could offer their thanks, he raised a hand. “I’ll do it on one condition.”

“Which is?” Al shifted on the sofa and his spine stiffened.

“That you tell me about these dreams first.” Again he raised a hand to silence their protests. “If I’m going to hypnotize you because of such an unusual request, if I’m going to hypnotize you for any reason, I want to know and understand as much about the circumstances as possible before I do it. If anyone would know this, you would, Al.”

Leah didn’t miss the twitch of the muscles along Al’s jaw in response and the sudden rush of color to his cheeks, but he said nothing, only squared his shoulders and offered a nod of agreement.

“Good.” Dr. Clyde offered his best analyst smile and glanced down at his watch. “I have a free hour now, if that would work.”

“Now?” Leah said. “But we won’t be going to bed for hours,” then she blushed. “I mean I won’t be going to bed for hours. I don’t know what time Dr. Foster goes to bed.”

To this, Al sniggered and Dr. Clyde shot her a quirk of a smile. “Oh that won’t matter. I’ll just give each of you a word you say when you turn off the light and crawl into bed – at whatever time that may be, in whatever location – and the word will represent the command that you stay with the dream until it’s finished.”

After the uncomfortable experience of rehashing the dreams again, while Dr. Clyde listened and nodded without comment, they both got comfortable – as comfortable as possible under the circumstances, seated at opposite ends of Dr. Clyde’s Cordovan leather sofa and, the next thing Leah IMG_5339
knew, the psychiatrist snapped his fingers. “All done,” he said when she gave him a confused look.

“Seriously? I don’t remember anything,” Leah said, feeling like only a second had past. “What about the word?”

“Don’t worry, it’s all right there.” He gently tapped her temple with the tip of his index finger. “The suggestion should help you stay in the dream until it reaches its natural conclusion. It won’t keep you asleep if, for instance the phone rings, there’s a knock on the door or the smoke alarm goes off. It’s designed only to work under normal REM sleep conditions. From what you’ve told me, something in the subconscious is keeping both of you from finishing the dream, and while I think that you’d be much better doing a few sessions of therapy before we do try hypnosis, you’re not my clients and I have no reason to think either of you unstable. And besides,” he offered a broad smile. “I’m way too intrigued not to be curious about where these kinky dreams are leading.”

© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

Site created and maintained by Writer Marketing Services | Sitemap