Disclaimer: The characters of Brokeback are not mine and I do not claim them at all. I'm just borrowing them for a while. I'll give them back, I promise!

Authors Note: This was written quickly. The idea hit me like a ton of bricks and demanded to be written so I had no other choice, I swear.

Summery: What dreams may come...

In Dreams

Tired blue eyes stared out the bus window into the pouring rain pounding down on the Wyoming landscape as he rode on the cold Gray Hound bus to what, he didn't know. 'Has to be better then where I was.' The young man thought as he swallowed hard and looked down at the worn bus ticket to Riverton, Wyoming. 'What the fuck am I doing?' He thought before he pulled his jean jacket tighter around himself.

The dreams had always been there ever since he could remember. Weird dreams of things he couldn't begin to describe to anyone, but had tried to many times. The dreams that had alienated him from his parents, younger brother and most of all the rest of the small community he had grown up in. His daddy had called him a nut when he had told him that he wanted to make the haul from Taxes to Wyoming to see if he could put an end to these dreams once and for all. He had forbidden it, as he was not going to send his son off to some town where he would be corrupted by a queer. Wetting his lips at that he shook his head, as his dad had never been fond of his dreams. He had told him to just keep going to the therapist he had been seeing since he was twelve, when he had asked why he had strange feelings after dreaming of two men together. His dad's face had gone white then red before he had growled not to speak of such things no more. A week late he had been in therapy.

Then again he and his dad had not gotten along since he was born which had always given him an odd since of déjà vu that he had been through it all before in another time and place. He had felt an odd since of resentment and downright hate towards his dad, which many times left him confused. When he had been fourteen he had even hit him. Just because he had yelled at him for not having any romantic interest like a normal boy should. He really couldn't blame his dad for not likening him because of all of this, as there was also the fact that he didn't look anything like him or his mother for that matter. The only thing he had in common with his dad was the fact that he was tall. His wavy jet black hair that he kept short, his blue eyes, cowboy build, fair soft skin and lanky limbs were no where to be seen on his chunky blonde haired brown eyed dad or his short red haired brown eyed mom nor anyone else in his family for that matter. He sometimes envied his younger brother for being born looking so much like his dad it was uncanny. He had sat on the stairs of his house many nights and listened to his mom and dad fight, his dad going as far as to accuse her of having an affair with some man he had never heard of before.

He had never done anything but cause his parents grief. He hadn't meant to most of the time but he had. When he was eight he had gone up to a complete stranger in the super market with died blonde hair and very sad brown eyes and had told her not to be sad he liked it when she smiled. His mom had immediately yanked him away from the woman and had scooped him up in her arms, apologizing to her. His parents didn't know that their seventeen-year-old son had bought a one-way ticket and was headed for Riverton Wyoming either.

Then again, they hadn't talked much since that night two weeks ago, when his dad found him in bed with the gardener. The male gardener. The fight after that still rung in his mind, as had his father's smug voice as he informed his mother about his plans to send him to military school, not knowing he was listening on the stairs. This news had prompted him to toss some personal effects and a few clean changes of clothes in his backpack and sneak out his bedroom window. He wanted to put an end to his dreams once and for all. Shaking his head he sighed heavily before dug his CD player and a Green Day CD out of his backpack. As "Basket Case" began to blare from his headphones he laid his head back against the seat and shut his eyes.

All too soon the images flooded his mind. A beautiful mountain, sheep, beans, and a sandy blonde haired man with rough hands and gentle brown eyes.