The Dream-Weaver (Ghost-Writer2049 branch)

Before you was a carpeted corridor extending beyond the eye could see. Endless rows of doors cascaded down the infinitum of meandering hallway. It was like being in a chateau or manor a thousand miles long and counting.

You looked down to your hands, stretching them open and observing your empty palms. Something felt wrong about them, though you couldn't place what exactly. They seemed perfectly normal, yet you knew it was a lie.

Taking your index, you pressed it against your palm and pushed. To your surprise, it passed cleanly through.

"Holy shit it worked." you whispered with glee. Weeks of sleepless nights were about to seriously pay off.

For the past month, you, John Doe, had been feverishly studying the nature of dreams, placing special focus on their potential connection to panpsychism. According to theory, the mind was inextricably tied to reality; consciousness was a fundamental aspect of existence. If such a thing were true, then it would mean all human minds were, at some level, connected. After perusing some journals for a psych 101 project, you stumbled onto the works of a few philosophers and psychologists who believed dreams held the key.

For the layman, they posited a hypothetical space called the Labyrinth: an infinite plane of thought connecting the thoughts, feelings, and desires of every conscious being. Such a thing could never be proven, but the overwhelming number of similar accounts, rumors, and theories were simply too fascinating to ignore.

And now you were here. The Labyrinth. It was real. Weeks of meditation, introspection, self-induced hypnosis, and a bit of sleep deprivation finally opened your mind to its secrets.

"Not quite what I was expecting. Actually, nevermind. I don't know what I was expecting." you thought to yourself.

It was a lot nicer than the books made it sound. The notes only indicated a vast space filled with entrances and exits, which technically still applied. Red carpeting covered the floor from end to end, wherever that was. Dark, wooden walls stood to your left and right, with fancy light fixtures placed between each door.

Who knew how many people were connected to this place? How many had actually discovered it? What are limitations or rules exist here? It was time to get answers.

Taking your first steps in the dream space, you approached the door to your right. Only standing before it did you realize the door was unique. It was wooden, painted light-blue with a brassy handle. You felt drawn to it, like you had seen it somewhere before, as impossible as that may be.

Your fingers wrapped around the metal knob and twisted, clicking the door open.

"I know this place."

The off-white walls, the pink carpeting, even the curtains by the window were all familiar. It was Brooke's room; your sister's. Speaking of, your sister was here, splayed on her bed with her eyes focused on the ceiling. As you stepped further inside, you realized she had no pants on, and one of her hands seemed pretty focused on rubbing her crotch.

"Oh shit! Brooke must be dreaming that she's masturbating! What should I do? Should I go? What happens if she notices me? Can she notice me?"

While you stood there dumbfounded, Brooke took notice of your presence.

"Oh my God, bro! Were just standing there the whole time?!" she screamed.

Welp, you were busted. Guess people can notice you after all.

"I.... uh.... I was just.... um...." you fumbled.

You didn't know what to do. So, it was time to improvise. After all, it was just a dream, right?

"Actually, Brooke, I just wanted to come up and check on you, see if you wanted to hang out, but your door was open, and I was just kind of shocked when I realized what was going on."

She sat there, a look of skepticism on her face. With any luck, she might just roll with it. Dreams are like that sometimes. Everything makes sense until you wake up.

"Whatever." Brooke shrugged it off. "I guess I can't blame you for wanting a peek though. I know all the boys like me."

She wasn't wrong. Just two years younger than you, your 18 year old sister was a high school senior with a rocking body. She had a small, slim frame with a nicely shaped butt. Her boobs were modest B cups, but fit her petite figure well. Her face was soft, with long locks of brown hair flowing down past her shoulders. Her long eye lashes complimented her well, as did her large, hazel eyes. There was no shortage of guys pining for her, though she never seemed to go out with any of them, surprisingly.

"Of course they do, you've got a body like a model." you unexpectedly told her.

"That was weird. I didn't mean to say that. I've always thought she was pretty, yeah, but it's not like I'd try anything. She's my sister!"

"Wow. Um, thanks, bro." Brooke replies.

"If anything I should be thanking you. Every glance at you is a treat." you continue.

"The fuck is happening? Am I.... flirting with her?"

Brooke blushes and covers a smile with her hand. She still hasn't covered up her lower half.

You feel a tightness in your pants. Though you are unsure for how long, it's become clear you've been sporting a hard-on in front of her.

"God, why am I so horny? Just looking at her is.... I-I'd.... I don't think of her like...."

"You wanna watch some more?" she offered, shyly.

"HOLY FUCK! WHAT AM I DOING???"

You nod slowly, unzipping your fly and pulling out your cock. Brooke bites her lip as she returns to playing with her pussy while you start jerking yourself. Twin bumps tented Brooke's thin t-shirt, telling you she wasn't wearing a bra.

Brooke moaned softly, bringing her other hand to her breast to tweak a nipple. Your stroking increased, getting faster and faster as you watched your sister play with herself.

"Fuck, bro. You're making me so hot! I had no idea I wanted you to watch me fuck myself so bad!"

Her dirty talking was really getting to you, earning a sharp groan. And when she finally hit her climax, you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Oh shit! Oh shit oh shit oh shit!" she cried. "I'm cumming, John! Look at me while I cum!"

Brooke convulsed on her comforter while spits of white cum sprang from your cock. Locking eyes with her, you could only sense one thing: lust. You felt the longing in her gaze and reciprocated with an orgasm of your own.

When it came to an end, you stood there, cock in hand, with a small puddle of cum at her floor. Brooke went limp on her mattress, breathing heavily.

"Shit, big brother. I never thought someone could make me cum like that."

That was the last thing you heard as the dream world faded out. Everything paused and became a soft blur, if only for a moment. Your eyes shot open and daylight poured in through the cracks in your window shades. You were in bed, just as you were went you went to sleep last night. The alarm clock at your bedside read 9:00. It was morning.

As you got up from under the sheets, you couldn't help but notice an oddness about your boxers. There was a big, wet stain over the crotch. Vague memory of last night's events flooded your mind.

"Holy shit it worked." you whispered.