I must say, reviews have been impressive and I see that I've ruffled a few feathers. Good, just like sitting in on a good book club discussion. Thanks, Amy, Barb and Kay, you keep me real.

-Leesainthesky

Chapter 72 Dreams

The sandman did not care that I had lots to think on; he staked his claim on me anyhow. I was most grateful to him for his insistence.

As soon as my head sank into the plush bed pillows, I succumbed to the pleasures of sleep…and the land of dreams.

I found myself in a warm summer day…I was sure it must be summer because I was barefoot and wore a sheer yellow knee length dress. Queen Anne's lace claimed the wild flower meadow, and from the trees, I heard the cicadas relentless call to mate. The brilliant sun cast a bleaching haze over the landscape. I assumed I must still be in nineteenth century, as there were no electric or telephone wires littering the sky above me

A basket of wild flowers slung over my right arm, I hummed as I walked along some unnamed dusty lane. Behind me, a carriage approached. As the rumbling of its wheels grew nearer, I turned to inspect the vehicle, and, panicking, began to race down the lane, veering off into the woods to my left. What had spooked me so was unclear, but the terror I felt was very real.

I ran like a horror flick heroine through the dense trees and brush as sunlight slashed at me from above. Who in the hell was chasing me, the illusive Monsieur Vincenzo? I'd still not found an answer to that mystery, but since I was no longer in France, it plagued me less.

I continued to run, not even slowing for the thorny briars in my path.

From out of nowhere, an arched door materialized in the face of a small hill. Frantically I pried it open, and once inside, slammed the door shut and threw the bar against it. I leaned into the splintered surface, my chest heaving from exertion. The room, cave, or whatever sort of space I found my self in, was black, save for the thin strips of light seeping in through spaces in the door slats.

"No harm will befall you here, Gabrielle," said a voice from behind me.

I knew that voice, dipped in warm, golden honey; it could only belong to Erik.

From the darkness a pair of leather clad hands appeared. As he laid them on my shoulders, Erik's face came into view, first the pearly mask, and then the flash of his jade eyes and full lips before the rest of him materialized.

"Erik," I breathed. Relief and joy replaced the terror. I turned to face him with a smile and accepted his welcoming embrace.

"Be not afraid, I will protect you, he said. Erik kissed the top pf my head and I looked up at him, into those mesmerizing eyes.

"Thank god you're here! Someone was chasing me, and I think they meant to kill me…I don't know why…"

The conversation ended with Erik's lips covering mine. Swallowed up by the inviting heat of his mouth, I willingly gave in and reciprocated.

"I love you, Gabrielle," Erik murmured.

"I love you too, Erik," I whispered into his mouth breathlessly.

Never before had a kiss felt so all encompassing to my senses. I could smell freesia and jasmine, see the colors of tangerine, scarlet, yellow, fuchsia and turquoise bending and swirling around us. I tasted, what…candy? Flavours of honeyed vanilla and sweet passion fruit mingled on our tongues. And the sensation, oh! Wherever Erik's fingers touched me, I felt pleasure so intense it was as if my flesh was one enormous erogenous zone. My fingers itched to sweep across Erik's naked body. Suddenly we were naked and entangled on the floor in thick velvet coverings.

Erik's deft fingers skimmed my breasts, my belly and then the delicate skin of my thighs, which I parted for his admission. He placed his free hand on mine and led me to his engorged desire. I grasped his thickness greedily and began to please him. My every pulse point throbbed with need and when Erik nipped at the skin behind my ear, I threw my head back and whimpered.

The way Erik sucked at my neck brought forth in me a foreign yet highly erotic reaction. It was almost as if his animalistic machinations of pain and pleasure were bringing me to orgasm.

Something trickled from my neck to my collar bone, I lifted my hand to touch the wetness there, and when I held my fingers to my face I saw blood.

"Erik," I protested and pulled away from him. He smiled at me, delirious and hungry with blood and fangs. "My darling Gabrielle, that which pursues you is not always discernable to the human eye, my darling." I backed away from him, shaking so hard I could not clearly articulate. I screamed "Oh my god! No! Go away," before starting the verbal loop all over again.

Erik moved forward, backing me into a corner. He smiled and held out his arms to me. "Be sensible, Gabrielle. You know that I will not be denied. I will have you, all of you."

I woke up in an upright position, sweating and screeching like a banshee before I realized I'd been caught in a night terror. I ceased my screaming and glanced around the room nervously. Sunlight streamed in between open curtains. It appeared to be soft morning light, not late afternoon as I expected since I lay down for a nap at 2:30pm.

Okay Gab, no 'Erik-pires' here. Sheesh, what a fucked up dream, one that began as a sweet reaffirmation of affection turned into a B-grade horror flick. Just the sort of night terror whose residual fear stays with one for days before wearing off.

Great, like I needed a reason to foster feelings of terror toward Erik. Why couldn't I have dreamt of puppies instead?

I grabbed at the clock beside my bed. The thing had ceased to tick. It read 4:17 a.m., I assumed.

Man, oh man, we slept for a long time didn't we? I asked my belly. I threw on a robe and made my way down to the kitchen to put on water for tea. From the kitchen, I heard the snip, snip of garden sheers. Bastion was out in the garden clearing dead foliage in preparation for spring planting. Ah, now I knew why the man hadn't reacted to my frantic screeching.

I sat with my feet propped up on the edge of the kitchen table and leaned back in the chair. What did that dream mean? I'd once interviewed some dream experts from the School of Metaphysics for their National Dream Hotline Week and received my very own copy of their official Dream Dictionary. I did believe that dreams could symbolize different things in the language of the mind. Being chased is a symbol of, well, ignoring or running from something one hasn't or won't deal with. What do vampires mean—fear, fear of what? Dreams seldom mean the obvious, like fear of the bad guys; it was usually more involved that. Perhaps it was the fear of having my true self taken completely away. Come on now, how could that possible apply to Erik? He never insisted that I strip myself of my identity. But did I, on some subconscious level, fear that living in this century would turn me into someone I was not?

Maybe.

One thing was for sure, no more roasted garlic and Chocolate Grenache snacks before naptime anymore.

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For the next three weeks, I wrote like a demon possessed. There were three separate articles due for publication; the one for Harpers was going to cause a ruckus as I took the Comte to task for his unyielding and unflattering views on a woman's right to vote.

My pregnancy moved along right on schedule, at least according to what I remembered from friends and relatives and from Dr. Garrett. Now that the idiotic morning sickness was over, I felt fantastic. Even though the veil of fear from my 'Erik-pire' nightmare had passed, I still had a good deal of anxiety about seeing him again, but I knew I had to make amends, and if possible, repair what was left of our relationship.

The tone of his recent letter to me was fuming-mad and I was uncertain of how to approach him. I was still a bit miffed at his previous insensitivity, plus I needed time to get these articles written and submitted before I even thought about moving back to the manor.

And why hadn't I heard from Mary Ann? Known to be a man of action, Erik would have visited her by now.

The following day's post brought an answer to my question. In her brief correspondence, Mary Ann wrote that Monsieur DuPuis had indeed paid her a call. She found him to be most pleasant and agreeable. He was grievously sorry about his insensitive infractions and wanted desperately to make amends to me. He begged her to plead his case to me immediately, for Erik was anxious to be by my side for the birth of our child, an idea that Mary Ann found most irregular.

Oh Erik, I sighed. Let me believe that we can sift through the cinders of our love and find one speck of redemption left. I'd carried my erroneous misconceptions with me for so long that I didn't know when I would be ready to face him.

After you've written the final article Gabrielle, then you can send a letter to Erik asking for him to meet you here, on your turf. If I meet Erik on his turf, the scales will be unbalanced, I reasoned. Since very little actually belonged to me in this century, I felt the need for control. Next Wednesday my submission for The Liberty would go to post. I would also include a letter to Erik, inviting him to meet me here, in Hastings, where we would discuss our future.

Finally, I had reached what I hoped to be a viable resolution. Having done so meant fewer sleepless nights or bizarre dreams. Yet a tiny part of me still feared Erik…was still angry with Erik, but the largest part of me simply missed Erik.

Writing and cleaning the cottage was beginning to wear me out. As the days grew longer, I found my bedtime became earlier. One particular evening, after I had sewn a few items for the baby's layette and another enormous house dress for myself, I hauled my tired bones to bed at the scandalous hour of 7:00 pm.

Sometime, during one of my deep REM stages of slumber, I began to dream about Erik. This was not the frightening dream of a few weeks back; this was my familiar cozy dream where he and I lay in bed, spooned together or facing each other in a loving embrace.

On occasion, I awoke with the residue of my dream clinging to me like late morning dew. Snuggled into my pillow as if it were Erik's strong chest, drinking in the luxurious, warm, drowsy feeling, I sighed at the illusion of Erik's body, warm and close. One of his arms wrapped around me, his hand resting on my round belly, the fingers of his other hand gently smoothing the hair from my face.

I swore I could hear him whisper my name. "Gabrielle."

I love you, Erik, I cooed back.

"Truly dear, even after fleeing from me?" he would answer.

Huh? I'd never heard my dream Erik say that before—how very odd.

I opened my eyes. No pillow of cool cotton and down lay beneath my head, but of familiar warm flesh and blood.

Erik.

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What doyou suppose happens next? Please review . I'll post an update by the end of the week!

-Leesa

p.s. Xeven, thanks for the Benatar. Love is a battlefield. It's not fair that you don't sign your reviews so I can email back (de, de, de, de).