Trying to Sleep

To sleep—perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub!

Nota bene: This story is my entry to the Winter Holidays Story Contest 2022. My editor, Ken, slaved over this story, and in as much as it is a good story, it is largely due to him! A big thank you, Ken!

**

It was cold. The colder it got outside the warmer my mother liked the inside to be. A person in a normal house could adjust the heat in her own bedroom by opening the window. The cold, oxygen rich fresh air would rush in and equilibrate the room. Too bad our house was old and the window sash was rotten and painted shut. My brother's and my parents' rooms had new windows, but my father had not gotten around to my room.

My college tuition (Smith College, in Massachusetts) was costing him so much money I was too guilt ridden to make a scene over my old, rotten windows. This made my room hot and stuffy in the winter, if not all year round.

Indeed, inside my bedroom I was sweltering, and this during the bleakest days of December. December can get quite cold in Indiana, and this year was a case in point.

I was asleep. It was so hot in my room that it had taken over a half hour to fall asleep, but I had accomplished it. Usually you don't know you're asleep while you are asleep. It's only when you wake up that you realize you've been asleep. For me, it's when I roll over a bit and look at the bedside clock. I realize the last time I saw it was three hours earlier, and I had felt only 15 minutes had passed.

Since it was hot I had kicked off the covers. I was wearing panties and nothing else. I had been sleeping on my back, strangely enough, since usually I sleep on my side. I rolled onto my side and opened my eyes for a second to look at the clock. I saw then what had waked me.

My brother David and his best friend Tom were staring at me. They were perfectly still. My first thought was that the guys were going to truly wake me up and my sleep would be lost. I closed my eyes, deciding I was still dreaming, and I was blissfully able to regain my sleep.

I get up early. I've always loved to be up at dawn. I find it to be the prettiest time of the day. I'm all alone, as others sleep, and the air has a special quality to it. I made a pot of drip coffee and a bowl of instant oatmeal. After I loaded up the oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar I unbuttoned all the buttons at the top of my nightshirt and went "outside" to the glassed-in porch. I slowly consumed my breakfast, enjoying fresh, cold air circulating around my body and in my lungs. I was rapidly getting cold, as were my coffee and oatmeal.

I was not the first one up of course. The birds were up too at dawn, as were the deer, the mice, and the goddam bugs. I hate bugs. Even in winter we had bugs. That's not supposed to happen. Climate change, I suppose. Bugs are taking over the world. A little later and to my surprise, my brother joined me, having pilfered a cup of coffee from the pot I made. I was surprised because usually he sleeps until at least 10 AM.

"Good morning, little sister," he said, in his broken, pre-coffee, morning voice.

"Good morning, big brother," I replied, raising my eyebrows at his appearance at dawn, around 5:30 AM on a cold day during Christmas vacation. "Couldn't sleep from the heat?"

I'm a full year older than my brother, but since he's the size of an NFL fullback, and I'm the size of Tinkerbell, he calls me little and I call him big.

I stopped short. Tom was there, too. Tom was built like an NFL halfback, and he had a bit of a reputation among the girls of my highschool, if you know what I mean. Why was he there so early? He must have been too drunk to drive home and spent the night in the guest room, I figured.

Tom's presence disturbed me, and I didn't know why. Well, there was the fact that Tom was in my dream and also now he was staring at my nipples, which were poking at my nightshirt due to the cold. I realized that David was staring at them too. I suddenly felt self-conscious. Tom's gaze had gone to my legs and of course my nightshirt had climbed up my legs, almost to my crotch. Shit.

I noticed Tom had an erection. Oh my goodness, so too did my brother! Early morning wood: It had to be. I knew from experience two things that can take care of morning wood in a man: sex, and urination. Sex of course was out, since no girls -- other than myself, or girls residing in their imaginations -- were present, so I fully expected both of them to go and use the bathrooms. Neither one did.

We sat there, making small talk, sipping our coffees, gradually turning into icicles, while Tom and David checked out my body six ways from Sunday. It was funny, actually. I even leaned forward occasionally so they could check out my braless boobs. My nipples were hard due to the cold. The boys jumped at the chance to check out my boobs, but I was careful and they couldn't see my nipples. Tom was quite lustful in his gaze, but what surprised me was my brother David was too. If anything, he was even worse.

David and Tom were both sophomores at Purdue. I was a junior at Smith College in Massachusetts. It occurred to me that both guys probably knew all about the other sex. Maybe even in some detail.

"It's funny, you know," I began, once Tom had finally left to go to the bathroom.

"What's funny?" David asked.

"I dreamt last night that I saw you and Tom." David looked nervous. He wanted details, but I didn't give any. I changed the subject to the weather, annoyed at myself for even mentioning my dream.

**

"Tell me about the dreams you've been having," invited Dr. Smithfield, my therapist.

"It's kind of a recurring dream. Each time there's a little twist to it, though."

"Is your dream disturbing?"

"Well, that's the thing. I think it should be disturbing, but it's not. In fact, it's arousing," I confessed. "I'm disturbed that I don't find my disturbing dreams to be disturbing. Got that?"

"Yes. Tell me about your most recent one."

"My crazy mother likes our home to be hot in the winter and freezing in the summer. My bedroom is the worst, and due to the oppressive heat in my room I sleep naked, except I wear panties. Since my brother is a bit randy at times, I always close and lock my bedroom door. I kick off the covers in my sleep because it's so hot. I dreamt that I woke up and saw my brother David and his friend Tom in the room staring at my nearly naked body and especially at my boobs. I realize I'm dreaming and I roll over and go back to sleep. In the morning, I checked my bedroom door. It was still locked."

"And the dream recurs?"

"Yes. Each time it's my brother, but always with a friend. All they do is stand still and stare at me. Do you think these dreams mean anything?"

"Before we get to that, let's go a little deeper. For example, do you feel threatened?"

"What do you mean, threatened?"

"Well, in your dream you're almost naked, and two men, one of whom is your brother, are uninvited guests in your room staring at your body, right?"

"Right."

"You're not afraid they might try to molest you, for example?"

"That never occurred to me. I've never had dreams of being raped."

"Maybe it wouldn't be rape?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, some women have fantasies about sex with family members. It's perfectly natural; in fact, it's common. Is your brother attractive? Is he appealing to you?"

"Oh! I see. Yes, my brother is quite the handsome man. But you can't possibly think I want to ... want to ... No, no, no -- that's not possible! And that would not explain why his friends are there, too, now would it?"

"Now we are getting into some complicated emotional situations. Maybe you fantasize having sex with your brother while someone is watching, for example?"

"Doctor, this is getting ridiculous. Why don't you suggest I want to have sex with both of them at once?"

"Have you ever sex with two men at once?"

"No, of course not. Certainly not. Absolutely not!!"

"I take it by the vehemence of your reply that you do not want to."

"Damn right!"

"I think we have a lot more to discuss and I look forward to it at our next session," the doctor said. He had that 'time's up' tone of voice he uses when in fact, the session is ending. I glanced at the clock.

"Well Joanie, I'm afraid our time is up," he next said.

Boy, am I messed up! I've now got my therapist thinking I want to have sex with my brother in a threesomeThis is crazy. I need a drink.

**

Marsha and I met at Panera. I've found that coffee and a cinnamon roll salves most wounds. In another year I'll be 21 and start salving my wounds with beer, or red wine, or even Scotch whisky.

"Thanks for coming, Marsha. I need to talk to somebody." Marsha is my best friend, even if she did have a fling with my brother around a year ago. She always refuses to tell me what he's like in bed. Despite that, we're still great friends.

"Is this about Maury, again?"

"No, don't worry. Maury is history. I'm over him, and besides now he's taken up with Zoe. Or so I hear. Let's hope she can survive him and he survive her! Zoe is hard on men, once they get over her big boobs, assuming they ever do."

"Good. I'm tired of Maury."

"Have I been abusing you with all of my Maury woes? I'm sorry."

"No, of course not. It's what friends are for. Let me guess: Today's topic is about your disturbing dreams with your brother in them." Marsha giggled.

"That's just it! What's disturbing about them is that I'm not disturbed!"

"Very meta. There's always someone with him, right? One of his friends?"

"Yeah. Last night it was Tom."

"Tom Jones?"

"Yes, you know him?"

"Tom Jones is bad news," Marsha said.

"He seems perfectly nice to me. Anyway, hopefully, the next time I have the dream there will be some other of David's friends," I said, my confusion at Marsha's reaction to Tom being clear in my voice. Yet I did not ask her why Tom Jones was bad news, or how she knew it! Maybe she had had a fling with Tom Jones, too?

"You know, Joanie, that you're the wet dream of all the boys your brother's age. You're on a pedestal so high it's in the clouds."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Look, all I'm saying is that the friends of your brother might give a lot to take a nice, long gaze at your naked body. Hell, even I'd like to take a gander."

"Marsha!"

"Gotta go, love. Sam is meeting me in a few at the Red Roof Inn, and he's horny."

"Have fun, good friend."

"No worries on that score!"

**

"Hi David. I dreamt about you last night," I said, when I had returned from my coffee with Marsha. Tom had gone by then.

"You did? I hope it wasn't a nightmare." David sat down and spread his legs the way men like to do. His thighs resembled the trunks of trees. My little brother was a grown man now.

"Well, I wasn't scared, but whether or not it was a nightmare might depend on the person."

"Want to tell me about it?" he asked.

I did want to tell him for some reason. So I did.

"Well, it sounds as if you weren't naked. You had your panties on. I envy the brother in your dream -- I'd love to see your boobs, Sis."

"Well then, have your own dreams, because I don't show my boobs to any man I'm not intimate with," I said, which is not strictly true. Spring break in Florida my freshman year. comes to mind.

"Maybe I will," he said. "Maybe if I fall asleep thinking of you I'll have some dreams. Do you think I might get lucky and you'll be totally nude?"

"David, I have no influence on your dreams. Nobody does, other than your unconscious."

"Yeah, so they say," David replied.

"If I did have some influence, it would be just you staring at my naked body in the middle of the night, and not you and a friend," I said.

"Yeah, it's a pity. Nobody has power over dreams" I guess. I hope tonight you have good dreams," my sweet brother said, and then undid it with a wink. What the fuck did that mean?

**

"How have your dreams been this week?" Dr. Smithfield asked me, fairly early in the session, too.

So I told him. "There's been an escalation. Now I sleep completely naked, and I have the dreams almost every night. Also, now it's just my brother. No friends of his anymore."

"Are you dreams better with just your brother?"

"Yes, actually. You didn't comment on my being completely naked."

"Yes, that's certainly interesting. How did your total nudity come about?" I told him about my conversation with David.

"Does David touch himself in the dream? Do you touch yourself?"

"Yes."

"Yes to which one? You, or your brother, vis a vis touching?" my therapist asked.

"I started touching myself -- you know where -- and then the next night -- in my dreams -- my brother undressed and stroked himself."

"Did he ejaculate?"

"I don't know. My eyes were closed and I was falling back into my deep sleep state when he got close," I said. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to tell my therapist, to tell anyone actually, not even Marsha, that David decorated my tummy with his stuff. When I woke in the morning, however, there was no trace of his cum anywhere on my body, nor on the sheets, which further reinforced that it was all only a dream.

We discussed my brother, and my feelings for him. I loved him, of course, but it was sisterly love only. We discussed his love life. Did he have one? I was sure he must, but no, I didn't know of any girlfriends he might have had -- other than Marsha, and that was over. Also, he didn't confide those things to me.

Dr. Smithfield and I discussed my own love life, which was on hold since I dumped that cheating creep Maury. We discussed my parents. Why are therapists so obsessed with one's parents? Freud can go suck a lollipop, you know? I'll tell you this about my parents and how they fucked me up: Shingles doesn't care.

No, my father never molested me. No, I never saw my parents in flagrante delicto, and no, I never had sexual dreams about my father -- just my brother. Remember, Dr. Smithfield?

So ... what do I do about these dreams? Yes, I find them disturbing! Why do you think I'm telling you about them every session? You know what I think? I think dreaming of my brother in my room at 3 AM is going to lead to my dreaming we're having sexual intercourse. Get it, doctor? Fucking. I'm close to dreaming my brother and I are fucking. F-U-C-K-I-N-G. Pardon the pun, but is that fucked up or what?

What do you mean it's perfectly natural? He's my brother! Yes, I'm on birth control, but so what? These are dreams, remember?? Yes, Maury is still history, and no other man is on my horizon. What do you mean my brother? No, of course I don't want sex with my brother! I grew up with him! He taught me how to ride a bike, for Pete's sake. What's wrong with you today? You know what, Dr. Smithfield? Shingles still doesn't care, and neither do I!!

I stormed out of Dr. Smithfield's office, leaving (I hope) a dazed therapist in my wake. Later I took some Xanax the good doctor had prescribed for me, for just this kind of occasion.

I went home. I found David in the basement rec room, shirtless and wearing shorts, with a sheen of light sweat on his chest. His chest had the perfect amount of chest hair. When did I get such a compellingly handsome (and sexy) brother? Am I that superficial that I care so much about appearance? No, of course not. My brother is a great guy. Everyone says so, and part of that everyone is yours truly, and -- of course -- Marsha. I do so love my brother.

"I had a strange dream, David," I began.

"Tell me about it, honeybabe."

"Honeybabe? Where's that coming from?"

"Oh Joanie, Joanie, Joanie -- that's what you are: A honeybabe. I'm calling it like I see it."

"You see me as a honeybabe?"

"Yes, of course. You're as sweet as honey with such a supportive and loving attitude. Everyone says so."

"Don't forget I can sting. Who's everyone?"

"I said honeybabe, not honeybee. All my friends say so. I of course agree. You don't sting -- you're a drone."

"By all your friends, do you mean Tom? And by the way, drones are male bees."

"Yes, that's right, and more, too. You're a SILF, Joanie. Surely you know that?" He dropped the bees metaphor.

"Did you say SILF?" He nodded. "What's a SILF?"

"Do you know what a MILF is?" David asked.

"MILF means mother I'd like to fuck, I think. It's a gross term, used by horny teenage boys."

"Very good, Joanie. So SILF means?"

"Oh! Uh ... if you think I'm a SILF, does that mean you want ... you want ..."

"It's just a term, Joanie. I could have said GILF, for example, where the G is for girl. The point is you're hot. You're smoking. You're a smoking hottie."

"Because I have these?" I asked, as I bounced my boobs.

"Your tits certainly don't hurt! But really, it's just who you are. You're hot because you exude sexual need. It's in your eyes. All my friends can see it. I see it every day."

"Is that why you're, well how do I put this? Is that why your penis is always ... "

"Hard? Well it's part being a 19-year-old guy, and the other part is having a 20-year-old sister who is hotter than the sun, yes."

"Dr. Smithfield gave me some meds to keep me from dreaming these upsetting dreams I've been having," I told David. I was lying, but so what?

"What upsetting dreams?" David asked. He seemed nervous.

"It's embarrassing," I said. I had forgot that I hadn't told David about my dreams in any detail, assuming they really were dreams. I was beginning to wonder.

"Want to tell me about them?"

"No, definitely not!"

"Do they involve me?"

"What makes you ask that?" Now I was the one getting nervous.

"Hey, I'm sorry you've been having upsetting dreams."

"No worries, David. I guess I'm just horny, is all."

"Maury not up to the task?"

"You don't know? Maury is toast. History. He's on the garbage heap of old boyfriends. Please don't mention him again." Maury is significant, since he's the first guy, and also (so far) the only guy, with whom I went all the way.

**

That night I had the dream again. Just before I went to bed I took a precaution. I pushed a heavy chair against my bedroom door. That way, even if David and his friends had a skeleton key or something to open my locked door, and to re-lock it on the way out, the chair would stop them cold. Also, if they did somehow get inside my room, upon their eventual exit they wouldn't be able to restore the chair to its position blocking the door.

In the dream, nevertheless, David was in my room again. He was standing, perfectly still, staring at my naked body. Damn! So it was just all dreams. I had to decide if I was disappointed or relieved.

I freaked. On top of my small desk was a box, gift wrapped with a bright red bow and a post-it on top which said, "Don't open until Christmas." I could swear in a court of law that there was no box there went I had gone to sleep. Or could I? Everything was so confusing in my life, as dreams seemed to melt into reality. Despite my ploy with the chair, had someone been in my room while I slept? How was that possible? I couldn't believe it! Yet, the box was there -- it was clearly there. It wasn't yet Christmas so I didn't open it.

Also, I should explain. I'm Jewish. My family is Jewish. We go to temple. My brother even had a Bar Mitzvah. Nevertheless Dad puts up Christmas lights on our house. We have a small tree. We celebrate Hanukkah, or course, but we also celebrate Christmas. Why not? David and I love the presents, the tree, the carols sung in the cold, the parties, everything. Okay, it's true: Nativity scenes freak me out a little bit, and the whole crown of thorns and dying on the cross I could do without. But hey -- that's history, so I let it be.