Oneiric

It was a hot day in July, the Sun was dominating a cloudless sky, the wind was barely blowing and when it did, it was like a warm caress. The high mountains rose with grandeur above everything else. Secular forests strew like an emerald blanket over the land, the chirping of birds and the murmur of the river pierced through the otherwise silent woods. On the branch of an old oak, a squirrel was bathing in the sunlight when the voices of two travelers startled it.

Two young men, Claudius and Liviu, carrying their backpacks, were approaching the rocky walls of the mountain, obviously prepared for a climb. The ascension was effortless, for they were used to such activities as climbing, hiking, and exploring nature. In short, they were not novices. 

During one spring vacation, a group of friends had decided to spend the week tenting, hiking, and mountain climbing. This event brought Claudius and Liviu together, for they had a couple of common friends. Having spent so many days in the same tent, for the allocation was indeed random, the two boys got to know each other, and a spark had lit between them. Ever since they made it their thing to delve into such activities. Just them.

Halfway through the climb, the two paused in order to observe the landscape. At that height, everything seemed minuscule. The crystalline river meandered through trees of fresh green, the surrounding mountains hugged the forest into a protective, stony grasp, the branches would swing as the wind blew, creating a wave motion, just like it does to a grassy field. From that distance, the entire forest was reduced to a tiny field of grass, dancing in the wind. The only companions the boys had at that height were the birds. 

Claudius had begun the climb to the summit when all of a sudden, he felt the rock wall vibrating as if something had hit the mountain. Soon he would see dust and pebbles raining down upon him and Liviu. Claudius heard the growing, falling sound of bigger and bigger rocks and stones. 

The avalanche caught them by surprise as if these kinds of events ever warn before they occur. In a matter of minutes, giant boulders came rumbling down, hitting the inclined mountain walls like wrecking balls, then falling into the nothingness below. Having nowhere to take shelter, Claudius tried to move sideways as fast as he could to avoid, if possible, the dangerous projectiles. He called for Liviu to do the same, but the noise was overlapping his attempt. 

It seemed that the rockslide was coming to an end but one last boulder fell, hit the wall, and severed the cable which held Liviu close to the mountain. As he fell into the sea of jade trees down below, Claudius, shocked, could not mutter a word, or even a sound. His mouth was opened to scream, but he couldn’t make a sound. The pain of the loss would soon be felt, but he couldn't process it yet. 

A heavy, unpleasant, and sick-inducing feeling had formed in his chest. The pain was unfathomable, his entire body felt soft, boneless, powerless, and alone. As the pressure at both of his temples had swollen all the veins on his face, his eyes felt hot and tears caressed his dusty cheeks, leaving trails of white skin, before falling into the jade abyss. Finally, he had found the voice inside him and screamed so loud until hoarseness blocked his vocal cords.

I woke up in the dead of the night, thunder roaring in the sky, lightning flashing, creating eerie shadows in my room. Covered in sweat, heart beating as if it were coming out of my chest, my breath accelerated, I rose to the side of my bed, slowly calming myself down.

Why must my mind punish me so? Why must I dream of that foreboding day? I did not know. What I did know was the feeling which emerged, again. A feeling of heaviness in my chest. A pain that did not cause the actual feeling of physical pain, but mental. Overwhelmed by the memories of my loss, almost three years ago in the Southern Carpathian Mountains, I wept myself back to sleep. Alas, it was dreamless.

Author’s note: in Romania, we don’t actually use Southern to refer to this group of the Carpathians, we call them the Meridional C. The Eastern ones we call the Oriental C. and the Western ones we call the Occidental C.

The next day I woke up, still affected by the sorrow I felt; however, I was okay. Also, I was hungry and a bit smelly from my sweaty dream. I would exchange these dark dreams with something happier. Why can’t I have normal dreams, like guys my age? Well, if I had those kinds of dreams, I wouldn’t call myself normal, now would I? Thinking of this, it came to my mind the name of a song of Natalia Oreiro – Cambio dolor (exchanging the pain). Yes, I would exchange my pain with happiness. So, with the press of a button, my laptop started and in no time, I was listening to her song.

I went into the kitchen to make some filter coffee, as I didn’t have too much time. As the filter was bubbling and brewing, I stripped and went into the shower. In a few minutes, I was clean and dressed for university.  I had just enough time to drink my coffee and eat some biscuits and a banana. I readied my backpack with the books and papers for today’s classes, washed the mug, put on my shoes, and left. I didn’t close the laptop, as I usually left it open, for torrent seeding.

When I arrived at the metro station, the train had just stopped at the platform. It wasn’t too full at this time of day. It even had some empty seats, one of which I gladly occupied to better read from my book.

It wasn’t one from university, it’s kind of tough to describe its genre. It’s not a history book, as it covers anthropology and geography, a bit of physics. It’s like a documentary, on paper. The history from the Big Bang to nowadays. An absolutely absorbing read indeed.

Usually, I listen to music while in the metro, even when I’m reading. Today I didn’t. While traveling, the woman next to me, an elderly woman asked:

“Excuse me young man, but can I ask what are you reading?”

“Oh, it’s a book that covers the history, mostly of humankind, from its appearance until the present.”

“My, that is an interesting topic indeed. And it fills my soul with joy to see that some of you, young people, read books, and not only your phones. Good for you!”

“Oh, thank you madam”, I replied, shyly. I get this feeling of shyness when people are kind to me. 

The announcer called the next station in which we would arrive, my station. After exiting the metro station, the outside heat contrasted with the coolness of the underground. I walked for about 5 minutes and reached the building of my university. I found a nice spot in the amphitheater, a lone spot, and waited for the professor.

I didn’t really like to talk to people. I preferred solitude. I wasn’t like this three years ago, before the accident. I would talk to my colleagues in high school, to my teachers, to my friends, to my… I would talk to him about everything. We would stay outside, in the summer, until late in the morning, lying on the grass in the park, looking at the starry sky and wonder about everything. Not a care in the world. Just me and him. Me and Liviu. But that was over now. After his death, I changed into this mute, book-reading loner. And I didn’t change. I couldn’t change. Maybe I didn’t want to.

The voices of my chatting colleagues stopped when the professor entered the amphitheater. Not long after his arrival, the door opened and a girl entered. All the boys’ heads turned to admire her. You didn’t have to be a mind-reader to know what most, if not all, of them, were thinking. Her hair was burgundy red, straight, and lustrous. Her eyes were green and her lips like ripe raspberry. She was wearing a T-shirt, white with an orange silhouette of a cat right between her boobs. She was tall, but not very tall, around 1.70m, she was wearing sky-blue skinny jeans, and purple sneakers. On her shoulder hung a red, jean bag.

“Excuse me, is this A1? I know that "Logics and critical thinking" are taught in A1 this semester, but there’s no name above the entrance, and…”, she asked, while standing at the door.

“Young lady, please take a seat and don’t be late next time. To remind all of you, I do not accept tardy students. If you arrive after me, you would better not enter at all. And yes, this is the class you mentioned”, said the professor, obviously irritated by the interruption.

“Thank you, sir. And please excuse…”, she tried to finish the sentence but was silenced.

“Shush, please. Take your seat. Now!” said the professor, then he started the course.

The girl closed the door and scouted for a seat. She walked past the students sitting in the front, and middle until she reached the back, where I was seated. She put her bag on the second chair from me and sat right beside me. Of all the people in this room, she chose to sit next to me.

“Hello! Mind if I sit here? Of course, you don’t”, she said with glee, not being affected by the professor’s attitude.

“Uhm, yes, sure…”, what else could I say?

“My name is Lavinia by the way! What’s yours?”, she whispered, not to disturb the man teaching.

“Uhm…. I…”

“You forgot your name?”, she asked while smiling.

“Oh, no. Sorry. I am Claudius”

“Nice to meet you, Claudius”

“Nice to me you too Lavinia”, I said shyly.

“So why is grumpy there so grumpy?”, Lavinia asked while opening a copybook she took out of her bag and taking notes.

“You know how these university professors are. Superiors with an inferiority complex.”, I replied.

“Yeah, he’s probably just a frustrated old man who forgot how it is to be young. He’s probably been UF for some time”, she said almost laughing.

Author’s note: UF would be an abbreviation for “un-fucked”. In Romanian, we say this (Romanian NF = nefutut) when referring to people being cranky, or bitchy. 

I didn’t say anything, but she did make me smile. I haven’t smiled for quite a while. For reasons I didn’t yet comprehend, Lavinia’s presence didn’t bother me. We stayed together for the remainder of our classes that day. I learned that she transferred from the online to physical classes to better understand the science of our chosen college – psychology. I showed her around the grounds and we even spent lunch together. We took the metro home, as we shared almost half of the trip.

I spent the rest of the evening transferring my notes into a copybook. That way I can better assimilate the information and it’s easier when the exam period comes. I made some linden tea and drank it while listening to some music and reading about a game on its forum. After finishing the cup, I wanted to make some more, but I didn’t, as I hate having to get out of bed in the middle of the night to pee. I also remembered something dad used to say about linden tea – “Stop drinking that or you’ll have problems getting it up. Eat celery root instead; that’ll give you good hard-ons.”

I went to bed early, having been a bit tired due to my nightmare disturbing my rest the other night. It didn’t take long to fall asleep.

“Master Claudius! Master Claudius, wake up”

“Leave me be, servant. Wake me up when we arrive”

“But master Claudius, we have arrived!”

“Where did we arrive?”

“Master Claudius, you’re always dismayed when you wake up from your naps. We have arrived in Budapest.”

“Budapest?”

“Yes sir, Budapest. The grand ball for All Hollow’s Eve? Do you remember now sir?”

“Yes, of course, All Hollow’s Eve ball. Marvelous!”

“Must not keep them waiting, right sir?”

“Indeed.”

The massive oak doors were opened by two servants, both having their faces covered by white half-faced masks, dressed in black and red, as the great ballroom was revealed. Its interior resembled one of a cathedral’s. On one side and on the other three rows of tall windows rose to the ceiling, all decorated with red velvet drapes, embroidered with golden ivy threads. Ivory-colored walls were adorned with golden floral motifs. Near each window resided pedestals with marble sculptures. In the center of the room was a big cage with floral decorations at its base; white and red roses. In the cage, there were a man and a woman, dressed as priest and priestess.

Both the man and woman were beautiful, and they were kissing with passion. Stuntpersons dressed as devils were juggling and doing acrobatics near the cage. In the northern corner of the grand hall was a larger pedestal, where a man dressed as a pharaoh breathed fire and a woman dressed as an Egyptian queen, wearing a live asp as a necklace, was juggling small obsidian globes. On the opposite, in the southern corner, left of Claudius, a harlequin was balancing plates on sticks, held in his hands. Other stuntpersons on wooden stilts were waltzing around the room.

High above the crystal chandeliers, other stuntpersons were walking on a wire, while trapezists, plunged downwards, falling right before their partners would catch them in the nick of time. And above all of them, a grand dome of glass allowed the Moon’s light to shine on those below. At ground level, people were dancing in the rhythm of the orchestra’s music, situated opposite of the pharaoh and queen. The men and the women were dressed as if part of an age long gone, all covering their faces with masks, except for two.

At the entrance stood Claudius, astounded by the splendor his eyes could witness. In the opposite of Claudius stood Lavinia, both of them dressed accordingly. Lavinia’s dress was crimson-red, with a velvety texture of high quality. The sleeves which left her shoulders uncovered, ended at her wrists, in a bell shape. In her right hand, she held an ebony scepter, with a silver serpent head at the top. Her hair was held in a bun by long silver needles, with diamonds at their ends, that pierced through the bun. At the top of the two longest needles, a dark velvet veil rained down to her waist, imitating water waves as her head moved. Her corset was augmenting her breasts, however, the silver necklace guided one's eyes to its centerpiece, which was an alluring ruby. From her hips to the ground, the dress increased in circumference hiding the rest of her body. 

Claudius was wearing a black tunic, arched on his slender but defined physique. A vest, black as well, embroidered with silver threads, in geometric patterns, was complimenting the attire. Under it, he wore a white shirt, and at his neck, a coral-red scarf was elegantly tied. He wore white gloves in his hands, his pants were discreetly slender on his thighs and shins and his leather shoes shone like dark jewels. He entered the grand hall, the doors closing behind him.

All of a sudden it was quiet, the lights were shut, except for one which shone in the corner opposite to the harlequin. Dark-blue curtains revealed a stage, where a play started to take part. The action consisted of two men, sword fighting, a worried woman, and a few more bystanders. The fight ended with one of the men killing the other. The worried woman ran and fell at her lover’s dead body, crying. The winner forcefully dragged the woman to his side, while talking to her father, a wealthy merchant. The man asked the father to respect the deal they had, the one where the daughter would be his if he kills her lover, a lower class.

The lights went off while some sparks kept the audience busy. When the lights were lit, the scene changed. The dialogue revealed that several years have passed since the duel, the woman had married the killer, they were dining in their mansion. The man was relating something she did not care for, but she pretended to listen, or else he would beat her. Before finishing dinner, he said he wants to try again this night to put a child in her, as he’s getting old and wants a son. He left the room, leaving her alone. She rose from her seat and took out from her corset a vial with a yellowish liquid inside. Her husband left his wine cup and it was the perfect occasion to pour the potion and give it to him. But before she was able to open the vial, the man stormed into the room and slapped her so hard, she fell on the floor. 

“This is why you are not with child after every time I seed you! You were poisoning my seed, making it barren. Witch, I will teach you a lesson! I will fuck you until you die. Get over here!”

“I would rather die than be yours again. I would rather die than birthing your offspring!”

With that she lunged at her husband, stabbing him in the neck with a knife. With his last breath before falling dead, the woman drank the potion and broke the glass on the floor. Yellow smoke covered the stage while a malevolent, feminine laugh could be heard. When the stage was clear, the woman was gone. The play had ended and the actors returned on the stage for applause. The curtains dropped, the orchestra started playing again, and the people have begun to dance. 

Feeling she was glanced at by a different pair of eyes Lavinia turned her head over to Claudius. She held her breath for a couple of seconds then walked towards him. She stopped in front of him, Claudius extended his arm as an invitation to waltz, and she accepted. When the coupled started waltzing, the rest of the people in the ballroom stopped and admired them. Claudius was looking into her green eyes, neither one spoke. His heart started to beat rapidly; a feeling of heaviness formed in his chest. He felt great love and great pain. These had nothing to do with her. The music stopped, the dance ended, Claudius still held Lavinia close to his body. As he came closer to kiss her, right before closing his eye, he saw him in her green eyes. He released her from his grip and stood back a pace.

“Liviu!?”, cried Claudius.

“Mors certissima!”, screamed Lavinia, with anger.

She started crying with red tears, the orchestra started playing an eerie, melancholic melody, darker than even Toccata. Everyone in the grand hall started to dance, the Moon in the sky turned red, the stars had vanished, the two oak doors burst into flames, all of the curtains as well. The people were not wearing masks anymore, their skin blackened and started to crack, then they burst into clouds of dark ash, as Lavinia was still crying. The dark cloud engulfed her then one last burst of fire ended it all. 

Again, I have been having these irksome dreams, with him. And they don’t even make sense.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand. It was half-past four, still dark outside. I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t. What did the dream mean? Why did I dream of Lavinia? How could I have seen the reflection of Liviu in her eyes? Why was she angry and crying? And above all, why would I try to kiss her?

As I asked these questions all I could do was perplex myself, so I tried not to think about it again. After a couple of hours of continuous shifting in bed, trying to find a relaxing position to get some sleep but failed to, I got up.

I have been sweating again during the nightmare. That was odd, since I only wore a pair of loose shorts, no underwear, and the duvet was thin. I went to the balcony to get the towel from the drying rack and stopped to look at myself in the mirrors, on the way back. My wardrobe doors all have mirrors on them, from top to bottom.

I looked in the mirror as if it were not myself on the other side looking back. Nonsense! It was me. I was probably tired and just imagining things. It wasn’t as dark as two hours ago. The Sun had started rising, but it was still a bit gloomy inside. I continued to look in the mirror, to convince myself it was really me.

Me, Claudius, a tall young man, 1.80m to be precise. The color of my hair was the same as I always had it, a light brown. The haircut was mine as well, short on the sides, short in the back as I felt it with my hand; long at the top, pushed to the right a bit. Now ruffled, as always after I wake up. I recognized the face as mine, my chest and nipples, the chasm between the pectorals which continued down my abdomen, slightly forking into what could have been a pack, had I gone to the gym. 

The navel like a small button and the smooth line of darkish hair, dropping down underneath the line of my shorts. I dropped the towel on the floor to touch the skin on my chest, running my fingers over my hardened nipples. I felt the goosebumps with the tip of my fingers, traversing my body as I continued to feel myself, looking at what I was doing, in the mirror. The one on the other side was doing the same.  

With one hand caressing my neckline, and the other reaching the fabric of the shorts, I felt my heartbeat grow stronger. I had reached under the elastic of the pants, passing over the pubic zone. I could not see if the reflection had it trimmed like mine, but I did not care, as I was reaching my hardening cock, which pulsated as I continued with my fingers to the tip. I stopped to play with the foreskin, which sent tremors over my entire body, using the precum as a lubricant.

“Do it!”, the voice in my head commanded.

A whispery “no” slipped out of my mouth as my arousal intensified.

“You know you want to.”, the voice replied.

“It will make you feel better. Just do it”, it insisted.

I didn’t answer. I dropped the shorts and pushed them away. I looked in the mirror to see what the other was doing. He was looking at me, studying me from tip, to cock, to toe. The air in the room felt warm, felt heavy on my body. I could only see myself in the mirror, anything else was a blur, like some kind of mist occurred inside. I felt a sweet smell of black, rose tea. I felt like my head was floating. I closed my eyes to concentrate on waking up from this reverie. When I opened my eyes, he was glancing back at me. The hazelnut color of the irises was glowing bright, but I could not stop staring back. I smiled, a dimple forming in the left cheek.

“Take it in your hand. Do it! You know you want to”, again said the voice in my head.

As if with a defying gesture, I didn’t use one hand, but two. I took my throbbing dick with both of my hands, all of the cock-head sticking out, and held it for a bit. I knew I wanted to do this so much. I wanted to touch it, to jerk it, to play with it, to spit on in, and finally to release streams of hot cum all over myself. But I couldn’t. I haven’t had much mental pleasure, besides the physical one, from masturbating. Not since I lost him. I felt guilty in a way, to jerk off, to feel ecstatic, while he was banned from feeling, forever.

“Do it!”, the inner voice commanded.

What choice did I have? I succumbed to my primordial needs. I don’t know when I got in my knees, but I saw it in the mirror. I was standing on my knees, spreading them while my balls were hanging like a bell, my torso was inclined backward with my right arm supporting part of its weight. The left hand made its way down my neck, past my pecks and abdomen, and grabbed my cock. I started to move it back and forth, pulling down the foreskin, slowly. The reflection did the same. I was jerking, starting slow then increasing the speed, taking sudden stops, continuing again, while my balls were dancing in the rhythm. I felt warm, hot actually, as I started to sweat, feeling drips tickling me while traversing my torso.

As I looked in the mirror, I saw beige, glowing eyes, a mist swirling around my naked body, and the smell of black rose tea and hot cock and balls. It made me go wild, as I continued jerking, I could feel my entire body tensing. I saw my muscles clench, augmenting the lines of my body. As the feeling of pleasure formed, I knew that I was about to release. When it happened, I closed my eyes and shot many jets of hot cum all over my abs and chest. I couldn’t keep it in so I let out a short moan of pleasure, as everything came back to normal.

I was standing in my room, kneeling in front of the wardrobe mirrors, cum slowly drizzling down my body. The intense physical pleasure was overwhelming, however, mentally, I did not feel a thing. On the contrary, I felt rather guilty. As if I had taken a vow to mourn him until my very end. I rarely pleasured myself, and only sought the company of others, not too often. As I rose, tears formed in my eyes. I took the towel and went into the shower to wash, as planned.

After I got out of the shower I put on some clean clothes: a black pair of not-so-skinny jeans, black socks, and a dark green T-shirt. As today’s classes start later in the afternoon, I brewed myself some coffee, in the kettle, on the stove. While it was slowly rising to a boil, I made some toast, spread a little butter on the slices, and sprinkled a bit of salt.

When I was a child, visiting my grandparents in the mountainous countryside, grandma used to make toast in the morning, and sometimes, instead of butter, she would use some home-made lard, on the hot bread. Let it melt and sprinkled some salt. My grandpa used to eat four or five slices, and sometimes even asked for more. Alongside, grandma would make some tea, from the forest fruit she gathered and dried. If you think that was it, well you’re wrong. There would be fresh salty, white cheese on a plate, and a jar of home-made jam. On other plates, she would put different types of charcuteries, olives, tomatoes, cucumbers, and bell peppers from the garden. You never went hungry with her.

Author’s note: I’d like to take some time and describe the “Romanian grandma”. She loves her grandchildren so much, she never has a “favorite”, as all are her favorites. She always cooks delicious food, especially during the holidays. She loves God and blesses her loved ones all the time. Even if she’s your maternal grandmother, she always thinks that your mum doesn't feed you enough. When you’re older, like in your teens, and go visit her, you will always be asked if you’re hungry, or need some pocket money. She always tells you to go to school and learn as much as possible, and be a nice person.