could she write without her dreams?
everynight he had come to her in her dreams delighting her with his ghostly form. And every morning she awoke strangely energized and satisfied and yet she couldn’t put her finger on the transformation.
As soon as she left for work, he would fall into bed in his physical exhausted form. It took lots of energy to be her evanescent lover but there was a plan he hoped. He once asked his mentor why he couldn’t come to her in his physical form and the mentor said, “don’t you know, you’re the devil.” He worried at the time of his mentor’s comment, he couldn’t be could he? Over time he realized he was the devil of desires not an evil devil but a playful energy source of desires. Thank god, she never made her bed, otherwise she might be suspicious of crumpled bedsheets as he lay there exhausted from the night before.
He was instructed to start slowly, awaking her senses again through her desires. Last night, he started with slow kisses up her back just the way she liked it, slowly awakening her yearnings for passion and fire.
Her dreams started out innocently enough and then her desire, her deepest darkest desire was to be with someone she trusted and have his hands around her neck while she rode the pony, not enough to choke her but to feel his hands, his power wrapped around her neck. Would this bring the devil out in him? He could feel himself starting to materialize before her with every deep thrust, every time her long hair grazed his chest, his hands went up to her neck pulling her down for a deep passionate kiss, he wanted her to know him, wanted her to see him and in her dreams he was there, she saw him in her dreams but she only thought he was a dream. He had to fight the desire to appear before her.
Last night, he awoke to find her standing over him, not scared but delighted to find her dream muse was a real man, a real man that wanted her, a real man naked in her bed
She needed him, he was her dream muse.