My Restless Rest

As I lie in bed in the middle of the night, caught in a moment between the dream and waking, I think about what he said and the words he left me with.

“You’re almost there.”

Almost but not quite, that was the implication. Almost what though? I don’t know. Or maybe it’s that I do know but I don’t want to admit to it and maybe that’s what I’m not ready for, to accept that I know and that I knew all along. Because even the thought of that makes the panic rise and makes it harder to do what I’m doing right now which is to lie while I lie.

Lie to myself.

Lie in bed.

So I’m ready? No I’m not ready.

So I'm there? Not yet.

I watched him fade and with that absence went my panic and relaxation came as my eyes closed shut again in my dream. Around me I felt the bed shift, changing somehow in imperceptible ways but there is a flicker and it moves from the false to the real. The sheets gain weight and lose the soft smoothness of a dreamscape and the gravity around me feels more solid somehow.

I’m asleep again. Lying in bed and lying to myself in more ways than one.

You know when you wake in that odd time where you could get up but you could also go back to sleep and get a few more minutes. Not enough to be restful or productive but long enough that it’s tempting to just embrace the little bit more and so you promise yourself that this time it’ll be different. That this time if you just lay beneath the sheets a little longer and turn over and let sleep take you, even for a half hour more, it’ll be restful.

You lie as you lie and you embrace that lie knowing it’s a lie.

But I think there is calm in familiar lies. It’s a little like sitting in the eye of the storm with chaos all around you but a familiar kind of stillness. And maybe, just maybe, if you hold on a little longer than the big lies, the ones that can hurt, will fade away into the darkness and you’ll be able to forget them even if only for a little longer.

So I lie in bed and I lie in my mind and I breathe in slowly and when sleep does come, that kind of fitful early morning sleep, it doesn’t come with any dreams or doesn’t come with any that I remember at least.

It comes with peace and quiet and it comes with an uncertain rest.

And it comes with thoughts that are only of the next day. The second day and the first full day where I will be her.

God has it only been a day since I became her? One day in this life and already so much has happened. Less than twenty four hours and yet it feels like months.

I breathe steady and I breathe quiet and I feel the sheets on me. I feel the body that I’m in rising and falling, the softness of the world playing against the softness of her skin and the memories of the dream I’d had start to slip away from me.

All the specifics and all the revelations sliding off of me in waves, like water slipping down my back. Until by the time I’m in the depth of my early morning dream I’ve forgotten nearly all the specifics.

But not everything.

I don’t remember the man or what he stood for or what he said, but I remember the old woman wreathed in clouds of smoke. I don’t remember much of our conversation but I remember her telling me that if I found her in the real world she could send me home.

I don’t remember fantasy.

I don’t remember the feeling of him inside of me, the sensation of him stretching me up and filling me completely. I don’t remember how good it felt to have his pulsing heat in my belly or the way I came over and over and over again.

I don’t remember the taste of their seed or the way their hands and their lips touched my skin.

I don’t remember the indistinct sight of him in the end, or the sadness in his voice in the moment before he faded away.

But when I wake I remember with a fond smile the lingering feelings of pleasure. My skin tingles and my breath shudders just a little as I slip and slide beneath the sheets. I clench my thighs together and my belly pulses with heat for just a moment, a potent ache inside of me and a craving for something I can’t quite place and will undoubtedly mistake.

I don’t remember much but remembering isn’t everything. I don’t remember everything, but I don’t need to.

Because this is the body that I am in, she is the body that I am in. And she can feel more than I ever could and those appetites, they are built into her skin. To the parts of her that crave touch and taste and pleasure. To the nerve endings sparking off and the muscle memory built into it all.

Even if my mind has forgotten my body still remembers the things that were done to me. My body remembers the way that I needed so bad.

My body aches right now and it will ache again.

And sooner or later it will need some true satisfaction.

It is only a matter of time.

That's a wrap on Chapter Four! Chapter Five will launch on June 19th, but if you want early access then subscribe to my Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/SophiePert) which will have early advance releases of all new pages! The first seven pages of Chapter Five are up now!

I've made a brief post (https://chyoa.com/chapter/Patreon.1340566) about all of the extras available to Patrons (there are a lot of them!) and another longer post explaining my reasoning for starting up a Patreon (https://chyoa.com/chapter/A-Wrap-On-Chapter-Four.1331294). I'd appreciate it if you could take a quick look at those and please consider subscribing!

<3

Sophie

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