Dreams for Eternity

[Excelsior]

WARNING: The lead character in this story in mentally unstable. I wish no offence to anyone by incorporating it into a story like this, and if you have been depressed and suicidal, then you are not alone. I have been there, and this story is lifted directly from my experience.

I wrote this on a sudden bout of inspiration. It deals with a man whole has lost his lover. If people approve (or don't disprove) of this story, then I will write what he dreams about.

Pleasant Reading.
-----
I sat looking at my king-size bed for an hour in that darkened room.
I was desperately trying to preserve the happy memories of my time with Matt before he was taken from me. All those big, strong, sexy muscles, how I long to be wrapped up safely in those protective arms, how I wished I could feel his huge and ripped chest against my back, feeling it move in the slow rhythm of his breathing as he slept. Oh how I wished I could run my hands over that chiselled set of abs, to hear him laugh whenever I took a sharp intake of breath from feeling their hardness. How I wished I could run my hands down those massive arms, feeling the vine-like structuer of veins as the criss-crossed his arms. How I wished I could lick those hard striations in his thighs, and revel in his sharp intake of breath from his euphoric pleasure. But most of all, I wished I could hear that deep sexy voice sooth me and comfort me in my painful life.
Thinking of my painful life trudged up another ugly memory from the distant past. 'I love you because your my son!!!' my mother would scream, 'But that doesn't mean I have to like you!!!' I shifted my mind back to the words Matt had said to me when I had told him that memory, 'It's alright Richard, I'm here for you now... and forever...'
I wiped the tears away from my eyes, and turned around on my chair, and looked into my desk draw. Inside my quivering hands somehow skillfully moved their way through the pictures of memories I was trying to save, and pulled out a small pill bottle.
I ran my fingers lightly over it's smooth, cool plastic shell, hearing the faint clack every so often as one of the many tablets inside moved and rattled against it's neighbours. Making my choice, I poured out a handful, and clutched at them tightly.
'Richard, If your going to do, what I think your going to do...' a faint masculine voice echoed in my ear.
'Please...' I sobbed, 'Please just let me...'
'Richard, this isn't what I want you to do, it wasn't your fault,' echoed that voice again.
Despite everything, I couldn't help but to smile faintly, feeling my hot tears sear across my tautened lips. 'Your... Your just telling me what I want to hear... your not really there...'
'Aren't I?' replied the echo of the past.
I spun round in fright at that answer and paused. After a few moments, I broke down into renewed sobbing... for one, brief inexonerable moment, I felt like there was someone there with me, what more they had their hand on my shoulder... it had felt like it was Matt.
Without furthur hesitation, I dry-swallowed the whole handful.
After about 10 minutes, I began to feel drowsy. Slowly the world began to warp and strain in my vision. I slid off my chair, and collapsed onto my side in a coughing fit. After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality couldn't have been more than a couple of seconds, the coughing and hacking stopped, and were replaced by a blissful sense of warmth and euphoria. Slowly, I could begin to feel my body relaxing, my now slowing mind barely registering the pops and cracks of joints as pent up energy was released. Eventually all I could hear was my heartbeat that was slowing, and all I could see was the slanted carpet and wall.
I felt a hand rest on my arm, and I immediately recognised that hand, 'Hello Matt...' I whispered.
'Hello Richard' came the reply. The voice sounded less echoey, and for my last few moments I allowed myself the false impression that all was well, Matt was alive, I hadn't overdosed, and that everything was fine. My blurry vision saw a haze of movement, so concentrating on focusing, I saw that a large muscular foot and calve had stepped over me. Slowly but surely, Matt turned around and lowered his sexy bulk into a kneeling position beside me.
'Before you join me Richard... I would like you to do something for me.'
'Yes... Anything...' came my drug-slurred response.
Matt lent forward and placed his hand on my forehead. My eyes rolled up into my head in happiness. I was feeling something I'd never thought I'd feel again.
'Richard, listen to me, please. I need you to dream.'
'I will dream.....'
'When you have dreamt, make your choice.'
My mind was struggling to process this, I could rapidly feel myself slipping away, and my depth of vision was shrinking slowly. I said the last thing to go through my mind,
'I will dream...'

And I dreamt for an eternity...

[Ender]

This is a rather interesting glimpse into the nature of loss and despair...

I'm not sure if it is intended as a complete story in itself, or a prologue to additional postings. I figure it could go a couple of ways a longer multi-part story in which Richard finds a way to deal with the loss of Matt. Another is a series of short stories revisiting events in the relationship between Richard and Matt, that brought Richard to this point.

Personally I would like to see Richard wake up and work things out in some way... There have been a number of times I have been depressed to the point being in such despair to consider putting an end to it but I have never to making an attempt to do it.

Whether for good are bad it was never as the result losing some one a cared about... so I can't really understand the Richard's motivations. There can be advantages to being alone.

As Simon and Garfunkel observed in much of their work and stated in one song in particular, "... a rock feels no pain and an island never cries."

Ender


I picked up a few "right spelling, wrong word" typos... man whole --- man who has --- man who's... desk draw --- desk drawer... Mat lent --- Matt leaned