Mr. Sandman

[outstandingbalance]

6 Feb.

It's February, still cold but Valentine's Day just around the corner and people starting to think of spring, it might not be surprising that romance seems to be in the air. Hard to pin down just what the difference is—but romance seems to be nagging at a lot of minds.

It might be because last night, you had a dream. Nothing clear, but bits and pieces stick with you. Maybe it was just stolen glances and light kisses, or maybe it was flashes and surprising jolts of something more physical, more raw. Either way, the dream doesn't quite fade away when daylight comes.

The strangest part? It's about someone you normally try not to think of that way.

Dreams are like that though, sometimes. It's probably nothing.

10 Feb.

A few days later, and the dreams keep on keeping on. For at least one person, it's every night. For others, it may be more intermittent. It may be just happening for the first time, after a visit to the Redbright Institute or passing through the surrounding neighbor, or after chatting with a particular vampire. It might happen spontaneously. Either way the dreams keep coming, and they continue to be about someone in particular, someone who you've been denying or ignoring your attraction to, but it's getting hard to pretend you don't feel a little warmer when you think about them.

It's starting to seem like there's something a little weird going on here. Even weirder? There's a chance that the person you're dreaming about is having the same dreams. Not just romantic dreams—the exact same shared dreams.

At least, they are if they're dreaming of you too.

14 Feb.

It's been a week now, and the dreams keep escalating. Not only do they become more frequent, they're more vivid. What started with disjointed images and feelings, more impressions than anything else, have evolved into full narratives—ranging from chastely romantic nonsense, imagining that the object of your desire is a knight coming to rescue you from a dragon, or arrived to offer comfort and support in a bleak moment, to intensely erotic. Some of them may be down right silly.

But the common thread is there. They are all about the same person, and they all expose the fact that you care about them in a way that's not as platonic as you've pretended.

And maybe it's about time you confronted that?

On the other hand, maybe you're just riding this out.

Either way, this is getting sorted out tonight. There's not going to be a better time for it

Comments

Daryl | OTA for dreamshares

[dirtyredneck]

Sex dreams were decidedly NOT a usual thing for Daryl. Sure he had morning wood as much as the next guy, but not as a result of a vividly explicit dream. Or eight. The first time it happened was after he'd visited the Redbright Institute to see if they had any records of a squirrel shifter student anytime in the past five years. No dice. But as the visit was right before his normal mid-day nap time, he'd gone and found a sunny, secluded spot in the garden to curl up in. And maybe an hour later woken up in a cold sweat and fully human. Apparently when he'd gotten into what was happening in the dream, he'd transformed to match. Not a fun realization.

He had to figure the reason it'd been about Natasha was because he was at the institute.

The second time it'd happened was that same night, during his mid-night nap. This time about a different, equally attractive Vampire. But one with a very different body.

The third time was the very next day, once more during his mid-day catnap. And once more he woke up human and with a hard on he couldn't easily get rid of.

For some reason the dreams continued, getting more detailed each time, and alternating between the two. Every time he shut his eyes it seemed, he would get himself into an embarrassing situation and have to quickly find some place private to relieve himself of the tension.

The one that really got to him, though, was the one that came at midnight when the 13th was rolling over to the 14th. Of all the dreams he'd had, it was the only one that didn't involve sex, though he wouldn't be surprised if that eventually happened with how much his libido had suddenly spiked. But it was also the one that made him really, really ashamed for having it at all. A man shouldn't dream about a happy domestic life with a married woman. Even if she'd been helping him take care of a small child off and on for the last week. Made it really difficult to face Liadan the next time he saw her.

[]OOC: Daryl's only personally experiencing dreams about 3 people, but if you'd like to play out a dream your character is having about him, I'm game.]]

Re: Daryl | OTA for dreamshares

[defy_the_stars]

In most of her dreams, Liadan found that her house was not only bigger but all the things that annoyed her about it were suddenly, miraculously fixed. And, of course, her husband was always home.

This time was no different. She walked into the living room and smiled to see Daryl and Johnny sitting on the couch, reading a book. "Should I make some hot cocoa?" she asked.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl's eyes turned from the book to his wife and lit up like he'd just had a glimpse of perfection. His smile widened and he nodded, "Sounds great. Put a lot of marshmallows in it, too."

His gaze lingered for a moment before returning to Johnny and whispering conspiratorially, "Think we can convince her to put the whole bag in?"

[defy_the_stars]

She can't quite hear what he's whispering but she has a good guess. "Not a chance," she says before filling up a saucepan with milk and putting it on the stove.

As she watched the milk heat up, she placed a hand on her stomach, thinking about this new baby on the way. She wondered what he or she would be like. Probably just as wonderful as Johnny, though they would be born into circumstances that were much more stable than her son.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude is not a stranger to dreaming about others. He is a vampire, after all, and there are times when he has entered another person's dreams after he has shared blood with them through the use of mind-control. But this is different. This feels different. At first, he does not think there is anything different from this and a normal dream. Save for the fact that he, as a vampire, dreams very little. And the dreams that he has are rarely actually so pleasant as this.

Nevertheless, he finds himself lazing on a blanket in a garden, the sunlight gentle and warm against his skin. He's dressed down, wearing only a shirt with his stockings and breeches, loose at the collar to let the warm early summer air vent through it. He has his black curls tied back in a loose ribbon at the base of his skull, and a few of the strands have managed to escape and tangle about his face already as he turns to reach for the platter of foods and drinks he has brought out -- if there is one thing he has missed, if there is one thing he will never miss dreaming about, it is food -- plucking a grape off of the bunch and rolling towards his companion. A smile on his face and in his eyes as warm as the sun beating down on them as he gestures towards the platter and cocks his head towards the other man coquettishly.

"Is there anything here that is to your tastes?"

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl didn't sit so relaxed as Jean-Claude, but it wasn't because of how he was dressed. He was in an equally frilly shirt and breeches, though he had yet to divest himself of his waistcoat and the tightness of it along his torso really made it clear just how broad his shoulders were. He was tense because he was alone with a man he found attractive and being given a stare that could melt the clothes right off him if he weren't careful.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he reached for the grape on the blanket between them. He took his time bringing it to his mouth and popping it inside while he let his eyes roam more freely than he would outside of such dreams.

A soft "mmmhmm" was the only other reponse Jean-Claude got. It was his dream, he could play coy.

[outstandingbalance]

The scene was sudden, conjured with no explanation and no preamble. Natasha, dressed in short denim cutoffs and a tank top, in his garage. It wasn't really his garage, though, because outside the sun spills over long field grass and and fences lined with honeysuckle—something a long way from urban London. Quieter, slower, and much, much warmer. Natasha herself was dewy with sweat, flushed as though she's been in the sun, and grimy as though she's been working.

She stalked up to where Daryl is working confidently, and leaned over it to look down at him, her eyes dark.

"Busy?" she asked

[dirtyredneck]

It being a dream, Daryl doesn't question the sudden return to the warmth of Georgia or Natsha dressed like his own personal Daisy Duke, leaning over him where he worked on a bike he couldn't quite make out the details of. They weren't the ones that mattered, though, so it wasn't something to dwell on.

He wiped his hands on an oil rag and tossed it to the side, finding himself surprisingly comfortable dressed in only a brown undershirt and a pair of baggy, ripped cargos an equally brown color as the tank. The kind that just blended in with the dirt. And the kind he hadn't worn in years.

"Not really," he answered, grinning up at her and pushing himself out from the bike without sitting up. "Why? You got plans?"

Roddy | OTA

[roddy_reinigen]

Some of the dreams were more tame. Make out sessions at the back of the club, or snuggling up together, watching a TV and chatting quietly. Others were far more sexually explicit. All of them, however, left him with a lingering sense of the smell of wolf and a memory of far too bright red hair.

He didn't even know what had brought this on. These dreams hadn't even started until days after he and Party were at the club together, and there had been nothing that had reminded Roddy of him. All he knew was that they had suddenly started, and once they did, they just kept getting more intense despite him trying desperately to get them out of his head.

As time went on, they got more elaborate, too. Full violin concerts being put on for his audience, or spending a night camping in the woods together, comparing wolf and rat survival tricks. And, of course, the sexual fantasies hadn't stopped, either, they had only gotten longer and more explicit.

[[OOC: Roddy's only dreaming about one person, but if anyone would like to play out a dream or if anyone's dreaming about him that would like to hit him up and have awkwardness ensue, feel free.]]

Evie | OTA & Natasha

[freelife]

It started small enough. Glimpses of red hair, high heels, the smell of lipstick and whiskey. Evie woke up with the taste of it on her tongue. What was odd though, she found, wasn't that she'd had a sexual dream- though far be it from her to tell anyone about it, she still had some of her Victorian sensibilities, after all- but was that it was about a woman. Evie had always been quick to decide if another woman was attractive or not, after all she wasn't blind. But she'd never been attracted to them.

Normally, she would have written it off. But as the month wore on, the dreams became more and more explicit, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore that these dreams were about Natasha.

Yet night after night, she found herself in these dreams, getting closer and closer to the younger Russian, yet she was always out of reach.

On one particular night, her dream found her in the same dilemma. Dressed in what would have been her human-self's nightmare- a light purple number that was laced far too tightly for her taste- she was chasing after Natasha on horseback, one hand reaching out for her. But Natasha would always dash up a bit further ahead, laughing, as the two women made their way through a forest. She knew what was up ahead, instinctively- a spot in the woods where someone had made a garden, hidden from most's eyes.

And oh, she realized, as they slowed down to a walk, they had a picnic basket. Now this was just ridiculous.

[like everyone above, while Evie's only dreaming about one person, lmk if you want her to pop up in your dream.]

[outstandingbalance]

There's something disorienting about the dream, especially at first. Natasha isn't used to riding. Or forests. She's certainly not used to being laced into a corset like this. She's worn plenty of shaping dresses, but nothing quite like this.

Even so, she doesn't struggle to keep her balance on the horse. For the moment, the dream just carries her along.

That starts to change as she gets her bearings—she glances back over her shoulder, seeing a familiar face. A face that's been in her own dreams before. One she feels a thrill to find chasing her. The sense of familiarity gives her a hint toward how this dream will end. She smiles back at Evie, slowing some as they wander further afield, the chase giving way to something else.

"Is it much further?"

[freelife]

Evie notices the way her friend's slowed, and she takes a few more paces with her horse before she finds herself, at long last it seems, right alongside her.

"Not too much further- the clearing should be straight ahead!" She pointed, and sure enough, as they came around a bend, there it was. The sun shone down on a circular spot, illuminating the mysterious garden. The grass was lush, the flowers blooming.

She approached and dismounted, before moving over to Natasha, holding a hand out. "Let me help you down. It's hard, in skirts."

Nancy | OTA & Cooper & Cesare

[stauncherhearted]

Dreams were nothing unusual. Nancy had a good number of nightmares, and really wrote off most dreams she had. But something was different about the most recent ones she'd been having. They seemed to linger even longer when she woke up, leaving her feeling a little hazy, thinking back through the dream multiple times over coffee.

Soon enough, she started to notice patterns. There were three particular people that kept coming back in her dreams.

Sometimes, she'd dream about the man that slept beside her, his strong arms wrapped around her, how perfectly she fit against him.

Sometimes, she'd dream about a man that used to sleep beside her, the weight of his dog at the foot of the bed, her head against his chest.

And sometimes, she'd dream about a man she used to sleep with, in fine silk sheets that housekeeping would wash as they went from room to room, champagne from room service sitting on ice.

It was easy to see why she dreamt of the first two. It was the third that had her concerned. But it was a dream, she told herself every morning. A weird, vivid dream, just as the others had been. But it was a dream. So it couldn't possibly mean anything.

Could it?


[lmk if you want Nancy to show up in your dreams!]

Cooper

[stauncherhearted]

The man that slept beside her was looking at her from over the counter of what she knew to be a diner. All around them, others sat in the buzzing neon lights, Johnny Cash playing on the jukebox. His hair was slicked back, and though it was dark outside, he wore sunglasses.

Nancy leaned over the counter, her note-pad in her hand as she looked at him. "And what can I get for you this evening, Cooper?" She smiled at him, her skirt swishing around her knees. The cut of her dress was flattering, low in front, tight around the waist. "Do you want the regular? With a side of that-" she paused and gave him a roguish wink with a well-defined cat-eye. "special sauce of mine."

Blood. She meant blood.

Cesare

[stauncherhearted]

The man that she used to sleep with sat in front of her this time. But he only looked up occasionally, his brow furrowed with intense concentration. He bit his lips, occasionally looking up at her, then back down to his sketch pad.

She'd asked him to draw her, when she'd seen his drawings on the deck. He was an incredibly talented artist, and it seemed fitting to ask him. She expected him to act professional, and he had- except for a minor slip of the tongue when she'd first dropped her robes for him.

The drawing was going to be a gift for her fiancé, the dream logic told her. Just like, she'd realize later, in Titanic.

[longterm]

They're not on a ship, but instead in a large, grand living room with lofty ceilings. They're in a stately home that Cesare used to spend his time in during the 30s, while he schmoozed with aristocracy in argyle sweaters and plus fours. There's champagne on a side table and he sips it in between charcoal strokes.

"You need to stay still," he warns, looking up at her with the slightest of smirks.

Caroline | OTA & Jean-Claude

[vampire_barbie_girl]

Caroline dreams of the sun. It's been so long since she was outside during daylight hours and she misses it dearly. And so her mind takes her out there, in her favourite sundress, where she can just let the rays warm her skin.

There are times when she's not alone though, of course. Sometimes, the people she sees are memories, those she left behind back in America. And sometimes they are people she's met since she arrived.

One of those people is Jean-Claude who, despite the heat, is dressed in that outfit she enjoyed so much at the Christmas Party. "Are you hot?" she asks, then grins since he most definitely is. And she's sure he knows it.

[baisant]

It would seem that the sun is a common theme of Jean-Claude's lately. What is not common in his dreams is the presence of the young woman before him, although he cannot say that he is complaining. Although if he would have chosen an outfit to be dressed in, he would perhaps not have chosen leather and velvet brocade for under the direct sunlight like this. It is an interesting choice, although as a vampire he cannot say that heat truly affect him in the same way that it might have done before.

He offers her a smile in response to that choice of words. She should have known better, giving him an opening like that. He glances down at himself, giving himself a once-over before turning his eyes back up to her and stepping closer, tilting his head to the side as he does, his smile deepening the closer he moves.

"I would rather hear your thoughts on the matter, mon amie," he replies.

[vampire_barbie_girl]

Caroline laughs at his response - she'd been expecting something like that from him. Jean-Claude certainly is not lacking when it comes to confidence. She'd like to think that they're similar in that way, which may explain the attraction.

She lets her gaze run up and down his body slowly. "Dressed like that, there's really not much thinking involved when I say hell yes."

Jean-Claude | OTA & Micheletto

[baisant]

The chamber is dark, save for the candles here and there, but Jean-Claude does not mind. He is used to shadows and darkness -- he is a creature of the night, after all, and he does not mind the lack of light. He stands by the edge of the room, just by the window, gazing out at the moon and the stars beyond, listening to the gentle song of the ocean below, and he remembers this place. Remembers the days and the nights spent a slave, a prisoner to Belle's mercy. No, not her mercy. To her lusts.

But when he turns it is not Belle that he sees lingering by the post of the bed to greet him. He smiles to see the other man there, smiles at his posture, and his body instantly relaxes in a way that he never truly could around his Master. As much as a body can relax in such a tightly laced doublet as Jean-Claude is wearing. The fabric a deep blue, emphasizing the midnight blue of his eyes, framed in a face as pale as the moonlight itself, his dark curls loose about his shoulders. Along with breeches and stockings, Jean-Claude is wearing a short cape and loosely in one hand he clutches a feathered hat.

"I have always enjoyed the sound of the waves," he says, lingering where he is for the moment.

[excrucior]

It is impertinent, what Micheletto Corella is doing. Appearing unbidden in the Duke's bedchambers - if Cesare knew of this, he would surely be furious. And this visit does not fit into Cesare's ambitions, nor to the advancement of the Nest as a whole. No. This is about dreams. Dreams are so rare for Micheletto that to have the same one, several nights in a row, is unnatural. Supernatural, perhaps.

And so he finds himself skulking through the darkened halls, flitting from shadow to shadow, remaining undetected until he materializes in the flesh inside Duke Jean-Claude's bedchamber. He is usually very quiet when infiltrating rooms, but he knows supernatural hearing can detect a heartbeat. He knows he is discovered before he has even begun. So he waits by the end of the bed, waiting for the Duke to acknowledge him.

Still Micheletto has to admit he is breathtakingly beautiful. His eyes travel briefly over dark curls peppered with moonlight, the flicker of the candles caressing the Duke's well-defined jaw and adding speckles of gold to those midnight blue eyes. They appear like the heavens themselves, twinkling with stars. If he were a younger man, Micheletto would...

... but that is not what draws him here tonight. What draws him here is a dream. After a moment of silence, Micheletto answers, "Even when the ocean threatens to consume you?"

[baisant]

Jean-Claude quirks something of a smile at the way the other man looks at him, for he knows how he looks, and he understands what sort of an effect the way he looks can have over people. But the smile is almost sad, in a way. As if he knows there is a price for such a thing as well. As if he understands the bite to the other man's words as well.

"Perhaps that is part of the reason I enjoy it," he admits to the other man, moving to lean against the wall against the window. One wrong move, leaning the wrong direction, and he would slip out the window and fall to his death, amongst those roiling waves below. If such a thing would kill him. He isn't even so certain of it these days himself. He tilts his head back against the stone behind himself, making certain to keep his eye on the other man as he does. "There is a beauty to be admired in such things that remind us that we are not in fact the kings and gods we sell ourselves to be."

For Joss

[outstandingbalance]

In the midst of all of these dreams, Natasha manages to fit in the promised visit with Joscelin. For her it, it seems like a good time for it. Safe. A distraction from the dreams that have been with her the last three nights. She shows up at his door well after midnight, but she has confidence her knocking won't wake him.

She does text first, so he has warning. She's not a complete savage, or that out of touch with modern technology.

"Is it a bad time for a game?" she asks when he answers the door.

[dredefulchilde]

Joscelin hasn't been sleeping very well these past few days. His dreams--and even that's a change, as he normally doesn't remember his dreams, if he dreams at all--have been strange and confusing. Oddly, Natasha Romanoff is a constant presence in them. Sometimes she's just there, talking to him, but his dreams have also cast her as a damsel in need of rescue or a dancing girl. It's all very bizarre.

And then, to add strangeness on top of strangeness, she texts him out of the blue one evening and asks about a chess game.

Joss answers the door warily, a violent video game paused on the television behind him. Oh. Chess. Right.

"Miss Romanoff. Of course. Do come in."

[outstandingbalance]

"Thank you," Natasha says with a wry nod of her head, acknowledging the importance of invitation for their kind. She does notice his wariness, but at first blush she's willing to accept it as Joscelin's characteristic moods. It's not as though he's often welcoming, and never warm.

"It's not a bad time, is it? I had the night free, and I you had promised me a game...?"