It's this again: the dream I've never been able to decide whether I like or not. In some ways, I suppose it's both.

He's smirking at me, as he always does. Leaning against the wall with his arms folded as if he were posing for a vanity photo, and looking perfect for it too; his hair wild but perfectly positioned and his lean frame elegantly poised and entirely at ease.

He always has that same smile, so condescending and mocking, so sure of itself; never so much as a flicker of doubt in his mismatched eyes. Those eyes are right now staring at me as though I may disappear at any moment, not moving away even for an instant and I'm certain he hasn't blinked. Not that I've been able to check.

I don't know why he stares. I don't even know why he's there, but he is and I haven't the strength or willpower to try and make him leave. He probably wouldn't even if I did: he obeys no-one in real-life and why should this be any different?

I can't even bear to meet his eyes with my own; I worry if I do I'll crumble completely or maybe even run away, but I will not allow him to see me weak so I stubbornly refuse to meet his piercing gaze.

He never says a word and I don't attempt to break the silence. It isn't an unpleasant silence, just silence, the silence of nothingness. I can only think my imagination is tormenting me by telling me that he has nothing he wants to say to me at all and I truly have no reason to say anything to him. No claim to make him stay or say anything back. I want to speak – God knows how much! – but I can't bring myself to, for fear of what it may bring.

This is why I'm so undecided about this dream in particular: there are no confusing or painful stimuli, but there's always the feeling that there could be more happening. A feeling of wasted potential.

I'm half sitting, half leaning against the wall opposite him. There are no features to these walls – or – the floor for that matter, just blank white slabs as though they are merely there to give some sense of space and not really of any substantial interest, other than my mild musings.

Wait a minute!

Something is jarring me, something different. This doesn't feel like it usually does.

Got it.

I'm thinking too much. Normally, I won't find myself considering my surroundings; I instead find myself focusing on not looking at him and speculating about what to say – or not as is usually the case. Never do I truly think about the look or purpose of this dream – or nightmare – and I'm never normally this lucid.

The dream has changed.

I glance up to his face, not looking at his eyes, just seeing enough to judge whether he has changed as the dream has. His smile has widened slightly and there is a definite change in his posture; whereas before he was just leaning on the wall with both his feet firmly on the floor, now one of those leather booted feet is propped against the vertical surface, as though ready to push him off from it. His whole body is now tense, as though ready to spring and his face is expectant, excited.

But why?

Why has this dream suddenly changed? I'm sure nothing in my waking world has changed that would affect it and I can think of no reason I would want to change it – unless it was to turn it into a good dream, which this doesn't seem to be – and there is no way anyone else could deliberately change my dream, no reason they would.

Typically, I'd just have to wait this dream out. It would stretch to the point where that quiet did become uncomfortable and I finally just snap awake. Somehow, I don't feel like that'll be an option this time. I need to wake up.

I glance back at the being opposite me. He's looking at me with that same expectant look, like he's waiting for me to do or say something but I have no idea what. This is maddening!

What has changed? What am I meant to do about it?

I try looking around, trying to find some clue. I find nothing. No mark on the wall or note on the floor or anything useful at all. It must be something so blindingly obvious that I shouldn't need a clue, but what?

"You're not about to help me, are you?" I manage to infuse some irritation into my voice, but it comes out a little small. It's certainly not enough to get a response. "I didn't think so."

I lean back and close my eyes trying to think. The only things that seem to have changed here – that were there to change in the first place – were me and him, and since I'm not likely to find the answer searching through my own head: my dreams usually require some sort of physical action on my part before they end. It must be something to do with him.

Sighing I open my eyes again and look over, hoping for something else new, other than his difference in attitude.

No, nothing, no hints there.

So, what am I supposed to do now?

I shut my eyes again, wracking my brains for anything that might help. I run over the normal process of things: I sit here, trying not to be tempted by his unfaltering gaze, and wondering what he wants with me. Well, now it's fairly clear that he wants something, but even after all those hours of contemplation every other time, I have no idea what that could be.

Something obvious … Something that I should have probably thought of already… Something to do with him…

But what?

Think. You're meant to be clever. Just think!

Something that I've already thought of – that may even have been there before the dream changed. Something simple.

No!

Eyes snap open again, as the answer finally drops in to place.

It can't be!

But it's so blindingly obvious now that I can't see any other alternative. It's something every ounce of pride or sense of self-preservation in me is yelling at me not to do. But what else can I do? What else but the thing I've been trying to avoid since these dreams began.

I have to look at him. That's what he's waiting for: my acknowledgement of his presence.

But, how can I? It's not that I don't want to – quite frankly it's the thing I'd like most to do – but I'm so afraid of what could happen and how I'll react. Temptation and curiosity fighting against that fear.

But it would be so easy…

I glance at him again to see if he has changed and there could be some other option. No such luck.

I look back at the floor, steeling myself for what I need to do and – I have to admit – slightly curious as to what will happen. The part of me that I have always fought off is screaming in triumph now, it's finally getting what it wants, though the opposing half of me is right now putting up a very good fight to regain dominance. But my reasoning means I cannot let it back in.

I wait, eyes still firmly fixed on the blank floor. It seems like an age before, finally, taking one of the deepest breaths I feel I've ever taken – waking or asleep – and slowly tilt my head up towards him.

My gaze drags upwards from his exquisite footwear, to his toned legs, to his burgundy leather jacket. Slowing now, they pass up his neck to his pointed chin and then follow on to his smiling mouth.

I stop momentarily, almost losing that edge of determination, searching my mind desperately for another way, before there is no going back. I find nothing.

Nothing for it then.

My eyes move the last two inches and meet his mismatched blue ones.

It's like lightning. As if the whole world has exploded around me, but it isn't hurting; just tingling with a strange kind of energy - like static. The shock of it throws my head back against the wall, making me a whole other kind of dizzy and my eyes are suddenly swimming. But they do not tear them away from his; it's as if they're locked in place, just like the rest of my body. I cannot run away or break down. I can't even move.

I'm frozen to the spot like a rabbit in the headlights as he instead shifts, seemingly gliding across to me, never breaking eye contact as he bends his head close to mine and murmurs, almost silently in my ear.

"Now we start."

3 down, 20 to go.

I remembering bits and pieces about this story. I'm already planning ahead to what I'm going to improve on.

This'll be fun.

PT66 - Update 3