The Dream 38

What he needed more than anything else was a quiet place to write. When he saw the cottage smack bang in the middle of the forest like that, he knew that it was exactly what he was looking for. He would not be dissuaded from buying it, even after the locals in the pub told him that it was not a good place.

As they could not tell him exactly why, he decided to make his own decision for it and buy it. He seemed to be obsessed with the place, or so it seemed to be to his friends. Even before he moved in, he travelled past every day, just looking into the windows, until he got the keys from the agent, and it was his.

The day he moved his things in, he felt a thrill shock through him as he entered the door, it almost felt as if someone had run their fingers down his spine. He was happy that he could at last be there, he did not know what it was, but it felt as if something was welcoming him there.

He started to sort his things in the small cosy living room, and then decided to go to the bedroom to sort out his books and writing materials into some sort of order. The desk in the corner looked so untidy that he knew that he had to sort it out soon, but looking at the bed it, looked so inviting and he felt so tired that he decided that he would lie there for a few minutes.

He kicked off his shoes and fell back onto the bed, sighing as it felt as if he sank into the bed, relaxing and feeling the aches in his bones from the move beginning to ease. 10 minutes of lying on the bed and closing his eyes would not hurt, he thought.

He closed his eyes, as the lids felt really heavy and sighed. His mind drifted and slowly he fell into a sleep. As he slept he dreamt, there was a noise of someone entering his bedroom door and looking over towards the door he saw a beautiful woman. He knew that he was asleep, but she looked so real, it was as if his eyes were open and he was awake, but unable to move or speak.

The woman had long flowing red hair and was wearing an old style medieval type dress. It was velvet, blue in color with a blue satin-laced bodice, which she started to unlace. He wanted to protest, but his voice would not work, all he could do was watch as she finished undoing it and let her ample breasts fall free. She spoke to him, but he could not understand what she said as she came towards the bed.

He felt rather than saw her push his legs apart, and kneeling between them unzip his jeans. Then, he felt an ice-cold hand on his cock, and jumped, waking with a start and a shiver, to see that he was alone in the bedroom. The woman had been a dream, while it had been a nice dream he felt a loss, he would have liked the woman to be real. He had been separated from his last girlfriend for about 6 months, but he still missed her. She had asked him to choose between his writing and her and he had chosen the writing.

Still, there was no good dwelling on the past, he had to get on with his life, he had taken the cottage to write his novel and that was what he intended to do. He did not need the interruptions that a woman could cause. After sorting his desk, he decided to sit and start, there was no time like the present.

He sat down at his desk, and turned on the computer, going into the program where his novel was and started to type. He felt a breeze on the back of his neck, and thought that maybe there was a window open, but when he looked there was none. The breeze almost felt like a breath on his neck, but he knew that he was on his own; the dream had probably got him a little spooked. He felt a touch on his neck, almost as if someone had touched his neck with an ice-cold pair of lips, but he knew that was not possible, so he told himself not to keep distracting himself, and to get on with his writing. The publishers were screaming for his next novel, and he would not get it finished at this rate.

He told himself not too be silly, and got down to his typing. However, the cold feeling on his neck would not go away, it felt as if he was being kissed and licked there, and what made it worse was that the collar of his shirt kept moving. In the end he decided that he needed to sleep and start afresh in the morning, it was getting late anyway.

He turned of the computer, went to the wardrobe and taking off his shirt, hung it up. Then, pulling back the covers, he got into the bed and snuggled up, as he felt a little cold. He soon dropped off to sleep, but soon he felt a coldness against his body, as if someone was getting in next to him. He knew that he had to be dreaming as he was on his own in the cottage. The woman had only been a dream, but what if he was dreaming again. He felt a touch on his cock, like ice-cold fingers. He would not let it wake him; he would just let the dream continue, as he knew that he was again dreaming about the woman. At first he could feel her ice-cold body against his, but after a while the coldness did not worry him, her touch that he could feel on his cock was arousing him. His cock was acting with a mind of its own rising to the attention that she was giving it.

He felt her ice-cold lips on it, and even though he knew he was dreaming, his hand reached for her ample breasts. Massaging the ice-cold orbs, he could feel the nipples stiffen under his fingers. He felt her hand grab his and push it between the legs; he could feel dampness under his fingers almost as if the dream were reality.

Maybe it was that he wanted it to be, maybe he was dreaming her up because he wanted a woman, but he was not sure about it. He would just enjoy the dream, and run with it. The woman was moving on his hand, as if she wanted him, so he rolled onto his back. She moved so that she was on top of him and he felt the cold lips of her pussy force themselves onto his hard cock, as he began to ride with her. It felt good to be inside her, as her lips squeezed tight around his cock.

He moved with her until he felt that he was coming inside her, and she drained him. Before she got off him, she did a strange thing; she leaned forward and nipped gently at his neck. That was the last thing he remembered before his sleep became dreamless.

When he woke the bright sunlight was shining into his window, blinding him, so he dragged himself from the bed, and closed the curtains. It was strange that he normally woke feeling refreshed, but now he felt drained and almost exhausted. He went down to the kitchen again having to close the curtains; the sun must be very bright, he thought, as it didn’t normally affect him in such a way.

He had a meal and then went back up to wash and write, when he went into the bathroom; he looked into the mirror and noticed a nick on his neck. He must have scratched himself when he was dreaming about the woman the night before. Strangely it looked like two small puncture marks, what was he thinking?

He sat at his desk and tried to write, but could not concentrate, so he logged onto the Net to see if he could find out anything about the area. All he could discover was that at one time it had been known as an area where vampires lived, but this was the 21st Century, there were no such superstitions these days. He looked into the History, and found a tale of a woman called Anne, who had disappeared in the 15th Century, and who it was rumoured had been taken by vampires.

He almost laughed at himself for believe such rot, or even for reading it. He went back to his writing, but felt tired as if he had not slept the night before. He lay on the bed and was soon dreaming of the woman again, they made love again, and she again bit his neck, but deeper this time.. He felt her sucking at it, and could almost feel his blood draining from him.

This time he could hear her speaking to him, and saying that he would soon be hers for ever, he wished that he could dream of something else as he was beginning to become scared by the dream. When he woke, he was almost afraid that he would sleep again and that maybe next time he would not wake.

She came to him once more in a dream, and by then he was hers, she had drained his blood from his neck and she made him bit her neck. He was hers; Anne had found herself a companion to share the cold nights that had been hers for the past 5 centuries. There had been other people in the cottage, but none of them had been so susceptible to her before, she knew that he was different.

Two days after he moved in the village postman came to deliver some mail, and found him lying on the bed, his throat ripped as if there had been a wolf attack. They buried him in the local cemetery, as they did not know who his family were. Three days after he was buried, he and Anne were sharing the cottage, tempting travellers to join them.