The Dreamstrider Ch. 01

-This is to be the first chapter of a series, so I apologize for the slowish introduction, I had to set the scene-

~The Scrawler~

When is life ever fair? Tom thought to himself sullenly, pretending to listen to the history lecture. When he had been young, his mother had told him to be patient, that good things come to those who wait. Tom wasn't sure he believed that anymore. His entire life seemed to be telling him otherwise.

Those who wait for their food risk not getting any, at least in the university dining hall. Those who wait for the team coach to notice them are ignored. Those who wait for good friends to hang out with will remain alone.

But most importantly, those who wait for the right girl never find her, or anyone for that matter.

It was really getting to Tom. If even a single woman stopped to talk to him, he was certain they would like him. None had ever given him a chance, just the way the waterpolo coach had never given him a chance. He didn't believe women avoided him because of his looks, which he hardly considered bad. He was slightly taller than average, with skin a shade darker than most, a hereditary gift from his mother. His hair was dark brown, matching his eyes. He was simply too shy.

It was ironic really, the way the most likable people were always the shy ones. It might have been funny to Tom were it not that he was the prime example.

"Mr Harrison," Prof. Evans called. "Care to share with us whatever it is you're thinking so deeply about?" Tom snapped back to attention, seeing the old bearded lecturer looking smugly at him.

"N...nothing in particular,sir. Just history."

"Excellent. This is a history lesson after all, please do tell us of your momentous thoughts." It was unfairness again. Here he sat among a class of apes, and yet the sour old man wanted to pick on him, who was rather academic.

"Oh...Of course, sir. I was just wondering about the difference between the French classes during the revolution."

Not very original, but it forced Evans to begin talking about it, and he left Tom alone for the last twenty minutes.

Tom spent to the time staring at Emma Harrow. She was the same age as him, 22, and was the subject of almost all his fantasies. She wasn't the most popular girl, definitely not one of the inner circle who all dated rugby players.

Today she was wearing tight jeans and sneakers, with a blue shirt poking out from beneath a navy blue jersey. None of her breasts were visible, covered by the jersey, but Tom could see the well rounded lumps.

Her hair was light brown, and short compared to most other women, only just hanging over her ears, giving her an innocent and youngish appearance, enhanced by her bright green eyes. Tom had heard the other men speak about her, and decide that she must be a lesbian. Why else would she cut her hair short, and she hadn't had a boyfriend since coming to the university. Tom desperately hoped she was not a lesbian.

Us usual he imagined how he would approach her confidently and sweep her off her feet with his charms. She would fall madly in love with him and they would live happily ever after, content in their own company. And of course there would be amazing sex. That was the main part of Tom's fantasy, but whenever he finished daydreaming, reality would return, and he would know deep down that it would never happen, since he would never approach her.

After the lecture was over, Tom left and began the walk back to the Residence. Some people had scooters or motorcycles, but Wendall Harrison was not that generous. Tom had begged, and his mother, Marie had agreed, but her husband wouldn't hear of it.

It wasn't a very long walk, but the lecture venues were at the top of the hill, so the morning walk was pure torture. He had gravity on his side on the way home now though, so it only took ten minutes.

The Residence was an ugly building to say the least. It was almost entirely square, 4 storeys tall, and painted grey, of all colours. It made the home of nearly 100 students look like a prison crossed with a tenement. Of the people who lived there, Tom rarely saw them except at meals. His room, was on the second floor, with the other second years. His actually room was surprisingly nice though, compared to the rest of the Residence. Certain privileges came with each year spent at the university, rewarding Tom with a double bed, an end table and a wardrobe that could actually fit his clothes and other belongings.

As he threw down his books, Tom checked his watch, and noticed that supper was in half an hour. As soon as he lay down though, he decided not to go, being too comfortable to care. That was one thing which didn't improve with each year; the food. It was definitely not something he would get up for.

Outside his thin walls, the other students were making a racket as usual. Laughing like hooligans and banging on walls to make boorish beats to dance with.

When Tom had first come here, it actually scared him, all the noise and craziness. He was past that now, though the constant din still grated. From the noise, he could make out Mark Sully's voice, a big rugby player who may as well have set up his bed in the university gym. There was also Donovan Finn, who reckoned his art was world standard. He had once painted Tom's face while he slept, to make him look like he had a massive black mustache. Will Nichols had almost been a friend to Tom at first, but he didn't want to be excluded from the group, so he began ignoring Tom and joining in the 'fun'. There was the whiny voice of Andrew Fleming among them too, and Peter Jerry, who told everyone to call him 'Concrete Pete'.

Tom didn't hate his dormitory mates, though he wasn't too fond of any of them either. What he hated, was not being able to be a part of the group. It wasn't even because he was excluded, it was his fault, and the knowledge cut deep. He had no idea how to socialize with these people. When it came to it, he simply didn't know what to say to them. Not even the kindest bunch of people ever really want to hang around with a person who doesn't speak. Some people complained about not being able to talk to girls, but Tom couldn't speak with anyone.

Turning over and covering his head with a pillow, Tom wished that it was not Monday. Had it been Friday or even Thursday, his dorm mates would have left for the Rook and Crow, the local bar. Mondays though, they stayed here.

He lay there and tried to fall asleep by distracting himself from the noise. Someone had turned up their stereo now though, blasting beats which shook Tom's bed. It took even more effort than usual to fall asleep, he had to call up images of everything from sheep to the girls he fancied most. At last he fell asleep, imagining Emma again.

***

As soon as the dream materialized, Tom knew something was amiss, simply because he knew instantly that it was a dream. He was in a place he recognized, the university behind him, and ahead was High Street, strangely empty for the main road. He looked around more thoroughly, searching for people, but not a soul was too be seen.

All of a sudden he felt a presence. It was an incredibly alien sensation. He didn't hear or see or even smell anyone coming, but he felt it all the same. What's more, the presence seemed powerful, very powerful. Instinctively Tom knew that should he try and defy that presence, it could crush him like a bug.

Tom tried to run, escape the all-powerful being approaching him, but couldn't. Suddenly panicking, he wondered if he'd been paralyzed, but quickly decided against that explanation. It didn't feel as if he was frozen, it felt as though...he was acting in a play, and in this scene he was meant to remain still.

As Tom stood there, movement suddenly caught his eye. All along the street people appeared. Literally dozens of people simply faded into existence. Before he could ponder this new occurrence though, a new sensation spread through his body. It felt like iced water had been poured over him, spreading throughout. He looked down, and realized with a jolt that he was changing.

Before his eyes, his ordinary jeans and T-shirt became beige trousers and a collared shirt. When the feeling washed over his face, Tom reached up to touch his features, only to feel a beard there.

What the fuck! He thought. I'm an old man.

Again he didn't have time to pause and think about his situation, as he sensed the presence draw near. He looked around...and saw Emma Harrow walk around the corner. She was wearing the same clothes as before, except now she carried a small handbag as well.

"Professor Evans," She said. "I was just looking for you." Tom suddenly realised that she was talking to him. He was Prof. Evans. What was even more surprising though, was when he replied.

"Emma, how are you dear? What did you need?" He hadn't meant to speak, it had just happened. Again he felt like a puppet stuck in a show where every move he made had been planned.

"I just wanted to ask what our next exam would be on. Is it the French revolution and the aboriginal people, or just the revolution?"

Tom had no idea.

"Just the revolution." He said.

"Oh thank goodness!" She smiled, making his heart skip a beat. "I hardly know anything about Australia. Thanks prof."

"Of course, Emma." He said. She smiled at him again and continued down the street. Tom/Prof. Evans began walking in the opposite direction.

No! He thought. I don't want to leave her yet.

Behind him, he sensed Emma round the corner, and the presence faded. Instantly Tom became Tom again, and regained control of himself. As he glanced around, he saw that the people in the street had disappeared.

It's as if they were only there for her. Tom thought. They were there because she expected them to be.

That's when it hit him. This was Emma's dream! He was here, in her subconscious as she slept. The spectral people in the street were created by her, and so when she couldn't see them, they weren't there.

He too had been sucked into it all. She had been dreaming of meeting her professor in the street, and so her mind had turned him into Evans. That was why he could sense her presence so strongly. Where was anyone more powerful than in their own mind?

It was actually quite fascinating when Tom thought about it.

Maybe he could exercise some control of his own here. Focusing his mind, Tom thought of Mark Sully, trying to imagine himself as the huge rugby player.

Nothing happened. Frustrated, Tom tried again, but the feeling of being stuck in a play returned. It wasn't his role to be Mark Sully. Anger rose in his stomach. What was the point of being in someone else's dream if he couldn't do anything?

A new idea popped into his head. What if he could alter the script? Maybe Emma's dream did not involve Mark Sully, but could he change it slightly? To try it out, Tom needed to find Emma again.

The thought of her alone brought an image to his mind. She was wandering among the bookshelves of the library.

An instant later, Tom was in the library as well. He was behind a bookshelf, out of view of Emma. The sensation of cold water returned, as Tom felt Emma's dream begin to take over his will. This time he fought, but rather than imagining a person, he imagined a scene.

Somewhere in the distance, Tom heard a strange click sound.

The pressure on him to change into someone else vanished and he remained Tom.

The scene he had visualised had been one he had actually imagined long ago when he fantasized about Emma. He would be in the library, and see her. He would ask her for help locating a book, and they would strike up conversation.

Tom walked around the corner, and Emma looked up at him. As soon as she saw who it was, she went back to browsing the shelves.

She doesn't expect me to speak. Tom realised. Suddenly all of his shyness returned, and Tom considered walking back behind the bookshelf, and leaving Emma's dream.

No! He thought. Not this time! This time it wasn't real, he had nothing to fear. Should she reject or humiliate him, it would mean nothing by morning.

It wasn't easy though, all of his being screamed that it wouldn't work, for him to turn tail and flee.

Tom didn't listen though, he gritted his teeth and walked up to her.

"S...sorry," he stammered. She looked up curiously at him. "Do you know where the Sherlock Holmes books are?"

To Tom's overwhelming relief, Emma smiled her wonderful smile and replied cheerfully,

"Sure. Follow me." She led him down several rows to the fiction section, and pointed at a row of books. Tom noticed that only the Holmes books had any detail, the ones filling the shelves around them were fuzzy and unreadable.

"Here you go." She said.

"Th..thanks." He tried to smile and felt foolish.

"Have you read any?" Emma asked. This took Tom by surprise. He hadn't expected her to speak again, only in his fantasies was she interested in him. "Oh..uh yeah. Some."

"Which ones? Which is your favourite?"

She brushed some of her short hair out of her eyes.

"'The Hound of the Baskervilles', 'The Valley of Fear' and 'The Sign of the Four'." He answered.

"They're fantastic aren't they? My favourite is 'A Study in Scarlet'."

Tom couldn't believe his ears. Emma Harrow liked to read! Better yet, she liked Sherlock Holmes!

"I haven't read that one yet."

"Here, this is it." She had pulled a book from the shelf and handed it to him.

"Th..thanks."

"I won't ruin it for you, but trust me when I say it's amazing." This was fast approaching the point of being Tom's longest conversation with anyone outside his family.

"The ones I've read have b...been pretty good so far."

"This is the best." She assured him.

"Thanks f...for the help." He said.

"It was my pleasure." Again she smiled at him.

Tom was just about to turn a go when she stopped him by touching his arm and said. "You're really shy aren't you?" It was a very direct question, and took Tom by surprise. Before he knew it, he had said.

"Y...yes. I guess so."

"I've never heard you talk much before." Tom was confused for a moment before he realised she was referring to outside in the real world. She didn't know that it was a dream.

"Its just that I n...never know what to say."

"You've been speaking to me." Tom paused.

"I guess I have. How did I do?"

"Wonderfully." She laughed. It was a clear, perfect laugh. When silence fell over them again, Emma was looking at him very calmly. Tom felt himself get lost in her eyes.

He didn't think, he just acted. Leaning forward he kissed her gently on the lips.

She kissed him back passionately immediately, taking him by surprise, and he dropped the book. it was as if the dream had taken control of him again, he couldn't control himself. All of his shyness evaporated. He found his hands roaming over her perfect body, and her own returning the favour. He felt her ass first, even squeezing it a bit, and felt her push herself closer towards him. Her tits were now pushed up against his chest, and she was already starting to rub her crotch against his own, where a prominent lump had formed.

Time seemed to flash by more quickly than normal; his sweater was off, and her jersey vanished just as quickly. His shirt was gone, followed by her own. Before Tom knew it, both were standing there in only underwear.

Emma was acting like a woman possessed. She almost tore her bra off, releasing her perky tits, the most beautiful things Tom had ever seen. Next his underpants came off, and she stared at his cock for the first time. From the look on her face, she wasn't disappointed.

She backed away from him, and lay down on the soft carpet.

"Tom, come to me." She whispered.

He did, rather hastily. Positioning himself on top of her, he began kissing her again. Below him, her hands were not idle. First they gripped his cock, making him gasp, and bringing a mischievous smile to her lips. Then she started pumping, making Tom groan into the kiss. After a while, she crawled out from under him and motioned for him to lie on his back. He did, his cock now standing to attention before her. First removing her panties for good measure, she turned her attention back to Tom. She held his cock for several seconds, marveling at it and making him squirm beneath her.

Then, very suddenly she took it into her mouth. Tom opened his mouth in ecstasy, but no sound came out. He had got himself off before, but this was something else. Faint sucking noises could be heard as he bathed in his bliss. Looking down, he saw the incredible sight of her head bobbing up and down. It was that moment that Tom realised he loved short hair better than any other style he had seen. Looking further afield, he noticed that she was now fingering herself as well. Deciding to put an end to it, he lifted her head off his cock and said,

"Why don't you bring that pussy this way for me?" She smiled evilly as she caught his drift, and said,

"Well aren't we Mr Confident?" He smiled back before she lifted herself onto him, they got into a 69 position. It was the first time Tom had eaten out a girl, but Emma's moans did not sound disapproving. He began by simply exploring with his tongue, seeing what made her moan the most. Finding her clit, he started flicking it lightly with his tongue, driving her wild. Next he began probing into her slit, and she started bucking on top of him, pushing her pussy onto his face. All the while she was sucking on his cock, while fondling his balls.

They continued for several moments more, and just as Tom was about to cum, Emma got off of him and said, "Not yet, we haven't had the main course yet."

It didn't take much imagination for Tom to guess what the 'main course' was.

It was made that much easier when she lined her pussy up with his dick, and promptly impaled herself on it.

He felt her hymen break, but she didn't seem to notice. She felt no pain, Tom thought. It made sense, considering that for Emma, this was just an dream. Pain didn't exist in dreams, nightmares perhaps, but from the look on her face, this was certainly no nightmare.

"Oh fuck, yes!" She cried as she rode him. Tom was grunting now, unsure of how much longer he could last, especially after her fantastic blowjob. The sight of Emma, glistening with sweat, tits bouncing in time with her riding his dick, and hair mussed up was the single most sexy thing Tom had ever seen.

The orgasms hit them simultaneously, causing Emma to arch her back and let out a long, breathless moan. Tom on the other hand, shuddered as he felt pleasure spasm through his dick. It felt so real, that for a second he forgot that it was a dream. Into her tight pussy he shot his cum, gasping with each wave of ecstasy. For more than ten seconds they remained like this cumming hard. When it finally subsided, she collapsed onto him, sliding off his cock.

"Tom..." He didn't let her finish, cutting her off with a kiss instead.

***