Descent Ascent
- 1 year ago
- 15
- 0
Descent Of Dreams free porn video
Crashing.
Down through the air, down through the clouds. A controlled descent, to
a certain extent, but an inexorable loss of altitude that continues
despite my attempts to level oul.
How did I get here? When did I board this plane? When did I get inside
the cockpit? Why am I flying it?
I suppose I'm not flying it so much as I'm crashing it.
***
Gasping.
It was a dream. A nightmare. Flying dreams are common, I tell myself.
So are falling dreams. I'm still here, still in my bedroom. I'm still
Adrian Gant, and everything in this room is mine. My bed. My pictures.
My computer. My window.
The blanket beside me gently rises, then falls to the level it had
previously been. My wife. Ella. Our son Cody is in the next room
over. This is my house. This is my life. The clock on my nightstand
says it's still 3am.
I take a deep breath, calm myself, rest my head back on the pillow, and
close my eyes.
***
Falling.
How did I get back in the airplane? The angle of descent is steeper
now. I can't pull up. I can't understand the instruments. Am I the
only one on this plane?
Like I'm in some Bugs Bunny cartoon, I see the metal panels of the
airplane peel off, exposing the frame beneath it. I watch helplessly as
sheets of aluminum pull away from me, become less aerodynamic than an
airplane's fuselage, and slow their rate of falling even as mine
increases.
For a moment I'm trapped within an airplane-shaped cage, and then I hear
a creaking sound. Nuts, bolts, the interior structure of the airplane
falls apart and falls away from me. I hear an alarm in the distance.
No. Not in the distance. Just beside my head.
***
Choking.
I wake up mid-snore, my hand already heavy on the alarm clock, ending
its hellish wail.
It's morning. Time to get up. Time to get ready for work. I swing my
feet over the side of the bed and stand up in my empty room. The
thought occurs to me: I live in such a large house, considering I'm just
one person. Why don't I at least fill it with my things?
I have a simple single bed, an Ikea nightstand, and that's about it for
furnishing. The rest of my house, the rest of my life, is equally bare.
For a moment that doesn't feel right. I look out my window, to the sun
as it rises. Sun rising. Do I have a son? The name Cody enters my
head. It's a very important name. Who does it belong to? It's joined
by the name Ella. She's also very close to me. Ella Gant? No, that
can't be a real name.
I shower, and I get dressed, and I go about my day. At night I come
home, and I go back to sleep.
***
Drfting.
I'm alone in the sky, just me and my clothes. No airplane, no clouds,
just free-fall.
Wind slaps at my face and pulls as it makes its way past. Is there land
below me? I can't tell. I may as well be floating if it wasn't for the
wind tearing at my clothes.
I raise my arms, and my jacket slips off of me, flies up high into the
sky. Slightly less encumbered, I close my eyes. My shoes, so
constricting, pull my feet upwards, as though they would join my jacket
were they not held fast to my body.
A moment later, they are not. I twist my body around to look above me
and see the pair falling up. A moment later, my socks join them. Then
my pants, belt and all. As though the wind coming up from below me
found a way to create a gap between my skin and my clothes. I am
undressing at its whim.
I find myself in the middle of my free-fall, wearing only a shirt and my
briefs. Too much. It's still too much. Any sense of modesty I may
have leaves me as I reach for my buttons, but my shirt is ripped away
before I can manage. I'm high above the ground, too high to see it,
wearing only a pair of white briefs.
And there in my own little world, I remain in free-fall.
***
Breathing.
I wake up in a field. I'm naked aside from a lone pair of briefs, but
there's nobody around and the sun feels warm on my skin. The grass
feels warm on my skin.
Didn't I used to have a house? Didn't I have a job? Responsibilities?
What am I supposed to be doing? There is certainly more to life, more
to my life anyway, than sitting in a field in the middle of nowhere,
ignorant of and apathetic to anything outside of my direct line of
sight.
I breathe in. I breathe out. Unimportant. I'm here now, and I'm fine.
I cup the back of my head in my hands and close my eyes as I revel in
the sun. I don't know how long I'm in that state, but eventually I nod
off.
***
Floating.
I'm in control of my descent now. Now? How long have I been falling?
Have I always been falling?
Well, I can't remember another way to be right now. What's up is the
past. What's down is the future. I guess I'll keep going down.
The ground isn't too far away anymore. No, that's not ground. It's
ice. A frozen lake. That's where I need to be.
I kick my legs out above me and hurtle my body forwards. Downwards.
Towards the lake. Towards the ice. Not too fast, but fast enough. I
have to break through.
Down, down, past the wind. I have to break through. I can see the
cracks down there, I can see the current beneath the ice. Down, down,
to the bottom, to the lake, to the water below.
Crash.
I shatter the layer of ice effortlessly. I barely even feel it. The
frigid water constricts my blood vessels for a moment, but the cold
electrifies my muscles as I float beneath the surface of the water and
look up at the hole in the ice that I made.
There is a white pair of briefs floating near the surface. Are those
mine? Am I nude? I look down at my body, at the gentle bubbles rising
around it, and confirm that I am.
I look back up to the floating pair of briefs, but it's different now.
Is it two pieces of fabric? They drift closer to me, their silhouettes
separating in the water, but drawn to me. To my body. One wraps itself
around my chest, the other pulls itself up between my legs. They fit,
and they're comfortable.
A bikini. I'm wearing a bikini.
***
Sneezing.
Wasn't I just someplace cold? No, I must have fallen asleep while
sunbathing. I hope I didn't stay on my back too long, I wouldn't want
to get burned.
I prop myself up on my elbows and look down at my body. My skin looks
fine between the two white pieces of the bikini I'm wearing. No burns.
I let my eyes drift up, over the sand, to the waves before me. It was a
good idea to come to the beach. It's empty today, almost like I'm the
only person here.
Wasn't I in a field before? Didn't I wake up this morning in a field?
No, I woke up in my bed. In my home. I do have a home, right? I
should get back to it. The sun is starting to set.
***
Swimming.
Down, deep into the blue. Darker and and darker, the water constricting
more and more tightly as I kick my way down. I'm breathing. Should I
be breathing underwater? It doesn't matter.
I'm pushed a bit here and there by the currents, but otherwise it's just
a featureless descent. A controlled descent. I'm in control. I can
swim down as far as I want, and should I choose to rise I can do that as
well.
I pause a moment, twist my body to look back up at the surface. Back up
at the source of light. I pause there. It calms me. Seeing how far
I've come, how far I've propelled myself forward. I can stop for a
little while.
I notice two black dots mar the circle of light. They start small, but
they get larger as the objects sink deeper and closer to me. Two items
floating down to me. It seems somehow familiar.
The closer they get the clearer they become. Shoes. A pair of sandals.
Thin brown leather straps and a low wedge heel. I position myself so
that my legs are pointing to the surface as they come closer to me, and
they slip on, fastening themselves as if my magic.
I turn my attention downwards again and continue swimming. It keeps
getting darker, but I can make out a shape in the dim waters. Flowing.
Fabric.
A dress.
I point my sandaled feet and kick harder. It's blue and green, matching
the waters around it, but I can definitely tell that it's a dress. I
pull closer and it seems to almost open up, inviting me. Like a giant
flower, and I'm the bee. I swim right up under it, fit my arms into the
armholes, fit my head into the top, and I'm swimming downward in my
brown leather sandals and by blue and green dress.
***
Sighing.
Sometimes you're in the middle of a dream that's so wonderful, you don't
want to wake up and have it end. But the day calls, unfortunately.
I walk across my empty bedroom to my not-so-empty closet. One dress in
particular calls to me. It's blue and green, like the deepest corners
of a lake. But no, this is more casual, not something for work. I get
a little tingling, like a message from myself saying this dress is
special. I found it while I was swimming.
No. That was just the dream I'd had last night. Is swimming a
recurring dream for me? I seem to recall dreaming about that lake
before. And I've had a similar dream before, too. But it wasn't
swimming. It was... falling? I used to dream that I was falling through
the sky. But now I dream about swimming in a lake, and finding a dress.
I remorsefully hang the item back in my closet and pull out a plain
blouse and a professional skirt. I get myself ready, say goodbye to the
empty void of my home, and head off to work for the day.
***
Pulling.
The deeper I swim, the harder everything gets. The pressure is tighter,
breathing is harder, the lack of light makes seeing a challenge. But
something is pulling me, something is calling me to the bottom of this
lake. So I keep on going, keep on kicking my legs and reaching out with
my arms as if you grab the water itself and will my body past it.
Just as the light from the surface becomes too dim to supply me with any
help, I spot a new source of light below me. A single point. I wonder
what it is. I have a new goal: catch the light.
I pull myself deeper, into the black, where it's just me and this one
white dot, until it is no longer a dot, but rather a cone. A cone of
light pointing away from me, pointing further down into the deep.
A spotlight. Almost like the kind you'd see in a theater production,
but this one is just floating in the water, illuminating its
surroundings by force of will, absent any electricity.
My hands reach out and find a metal handle on either side of it. Now I
can continue my journey without worrying about visibility.
I shine my spotlight into the deep, swing it around, and find myself
pointing it at a field of squarish objects. They shine in the
spotlight. Metal? They look familiar. Have I seen these sheets of
metal before? Didn't they fall off an airplane? My airplane?
I start to swim over to the scattered bits of flotsam, and they seem to
swim over to me. The closer I get, the closer they get, at a rate far
faster than I can swim. For a moment, I'm nervous. Will whatever force
that's bringing these giant pieces of metal towards me know how to stop
them?
The first one latches on to my spotlight, a few inches ahead of my
hands. The second fuses itself to the first. Third, fourth, fifth, the
metal sheets mold themselves into a tube around me. It reminds me of
the airplane I was once in, but this doesn't seem like an airplane.
There aren't any wings.
Only as the last panel welds an airtight seal behind me does the water
begin to drain from whatever mechanism I've found myself in. It's
large, big enough for me to stand in and walk around. I go to the back,
inspecting the walls along the way. Nice, sturdy, ship-shape. Am I in
a ship?
By the time I turn back around, a window and a set of controls has
formed itself towards the front of the cabin. A submarine. I'm in a
submarine.
***
Snoring.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's Adrian's. My husband's. He gently
nudges me awake, and I roll over to bury my face in his shoulder. I'm a
heavy sleeper, and sometimes he really has to convince me to wake up.
"Ella," he whispers into my ear, "if you don't want to wake up for me,
I'm sure I can get Cody to wake you up instead."
I love my son, but I also need my morning shower before I can handle his
energy. I groan into Adrian's neck and push myself off of his chest,
taking a moment to survey the room before standing fully awake. My
room.
My room, my window, my husband, my pictures, my computer, my house. All
of it mine. Especially Adrian. He's super-mine.
I get up and stumble into the master bathroom. Adrian knows he has to
wait until I'm done with my shower. It's time to get ready and start my
day.
***
Diving.
In my submarine I dive, deeper and deeper, my lone headlight guiding the
way. I feel like I've been at this forever. Am I looking for
something? Why do I feel the need to keep searching for the bottom of
this lake?
No, this couldn't be a lake. Lakes aren't this deep. I don't know
where I am.
I see a light ahead of me. Is that what I've been searching for? No,
it's not one light, it's a series. A grid. At first dim, but
approaching Times Square levels the closer I get.
The radio in the submarine cackles open. "Welcome home, Ella. We've
been waiting for you."
Yes. Home. The grid of lights coalesces into a series of three domes,
two smaller and one gigantic one. Home.
I maneuver my craft towards one of the smaller domes, park it in a
docking bay, and open the airlock into this underwater city where I have
always belonged.
Virginia
- 24.03.2022
- 16
- 0
