2

He woke up with a start, opening his eyes in the darkness and, despite the air conditioner, felt his clothes slightly damp. Damn it. What the hell was that dream about? He felt around in the dark for his mobile phone, which was always within reach since it also functioned as his alarm. He found it, pressed a button and squinted at the screen. 01:23. Perfect. Nothing spells fun as being woken up by a nightmare in the middle of the night. He thought about getting up but decided against it. Best to just try and go back to sleep. He had an early class at Uni.

Still, he found himself wide awake and staring into the darkness. The glow-in-the-dark stars he stuck on the ceiling above his bed years ago only slightly visible. He tried to count the ones he could see but stopped when it gave him a headache like it always did. He sighed discontentedly and thought about his dream. What the hell was that about? Freaky. Despite his phobia of deep, open waters he’d never dreamt of actually drowning before. Hell, he’d never dreamt of his own death before, whether by drowning or whatever. He remembered the feeling of helplessness that he felt and he shivered. It was always like that. In his dreams, he seemed to lose the ability to make his limbs function as well as they could in real life, usually in situations where he needed them to. Of course, in his daydreams they always worked better than they did. Maybe his dreams and daydreams balanced each other out.

He stayed in bed for several minutes more before realising that there was no way he would go back to sleep. Groaning, he sat up and checked the time again. 01:40. Wonderful. His Semantics class this morning would start at 07:00 and he usually started getting ready around 05:00, which meant he had more than three hours to… To do what, exactly? Study? He snickered to himself at the thought. Yeah, that’s gonna happen. Jerk off? His crotch tingled at the thought but he already did before he went to bed. “Much help that was,” he grumbled to himself. He thought about calling someone but he’d be lucky if someone picked up the phone, that is if they didn’t chew his head off for calling at such an ungodly hour. He decided to try sending a text message anyway.

You awake? I just dreamed that I was drowning. Call me when you get this. Thanks.

He sent the message and waited for a few minutes. Nothing. Oh well. At least he tried. But what to do now? Daydream? He hummed at the idea. That might work.

He laid back down on the bed, hugged a pillow, and pulled the comforter tighter around him before selecting which daydream to get lost in. He finally settled on the one about finding a magic lamp with a magic genie – muscled and bald and looking not unlike Vin Diesel – and getting three wishes. He was trying to decide on wish number two, between telepathic powers or a night of carnal abandon with the genie, when drowsiness blessedly overtook him and he went back to sleep.

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