I dream of sailing my ship until I reach the sea of stars. I dream of meeting you there, endless, unknowable, and beautiful beyond fathoming. I dream of kissing you until you consume me and I become another smeared brush stroke among the many comprising your being.
137 words (1 minute)
In the first hours of the morning, the mind is still soft and pliable. A clever touch, careful pressing, and you can nudge yourself in a new direction. Daily reshaping, and perhaps eventually you can make of yourself something greater.
184 words (1 minute)
To have stumbled into the favor of some oneiric power is to awake each morning gripped with impulses not entirely your own, mind stuffed with fresh memories from a night of visions more wild and vivid than ordinary dreaming or even waking life.
The thing in your skull stirs.
1105 words (6 minutes)
In the dream, the Queen of Spiders sneaks up from behind you and sinks her fangs into your neck.
Your Gem is missing. Your power does not answer your call. But the venom in her bite fills you with indescribable heat and desire, and you don't care.
734 words (4 minutes)
The spider isn't Real, of course. You won't find it in your bathtub, nor in your kitchen, nor in the shadowy corners of your poorly-lit basement. You won't clean any web it doesn't leave up attached to your ceiling.
It lives in your dreams.
350 words (2 minutes)
The cameras watch her undress. They watch her brush her hair. They watch the rest of her awkward pantomime of her nightly routine.
It's a dance that she knows all the steps to, but there is, in her body language, some visible uncertainty about performing for an audience.