Jillian Spectre & the Dream Weaver

by Nic Tatano

  I pause a moment, thinking about how to phrase what I want to say, since I know this is a touchy subject. "It's about my father. Do you, you know, still think about him? The way he was…the way he probably is now…at The Summit?"

  She sits down across from me and steals another finger full of batter. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't. Seeing him again after all these years…it did bring back a lot of memories I thought I'd buried. Sometimes I wonder how much of the original man I fell in love with is left. If the guy I fell in love with is still there."

  "Mom, if you want, I could—"

  "Hell, no! You're not healing him."

  "I just—"

  "Don't bring it up again, Jillian. There's too much risk."

  She looks down at the table and wipes a tear from her eye, a reminder of exactly how much she's sacrificed for me.

  And how she continues to do it.

  Halloween couldn't have come at a better time. We all need a night of fun and chocolate, to go to an adult costume party where anything goes and a sugar high is inevitable. And since I wanted to let my hair down, I needed something revealing to get out of my comfort zone.

  I considered going as a sexy version of Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, which is a good costume for a redhead, but given the fact that I have the power to "beam" myself anywhere, I've gone with a little inside joke and chosen a vintage Star Trek uniform. You know, the one from the original series with the hemline up to the ass and some go-go boots. Ryan's jaw dropped when he saw me. He said, "Resistance is futile," and even though that was from the wrong series (Captain Kirk never encountered the Borg, though he would have kicked their ass) I appreciated the compliment. I pointed my toy tricorder at him, told him his heart rate was up and that he would need intensive care later in sick bay.

  Once Roxanne found out I had ruled out Dorothy, she snatched the idea right up and went to work with a needle and thread, taking the hem on a gingham dress way, way up. She carried a stuffed dog, but with her incredibly long legs in platform ruby heels, no one was paying any attention to Toto. (Jake took one look at her and said, "There really is no place like home.") It's kinda funny having a Dorothy with a New York accent and attitude. "Fuhgeddaboudit. I got your flyin' monkeys right here."

  Rox and I are headed back to our table from the ladies room when she stops dead in her tracks and her jaw drops. "Oh. My. God."

  I look around to find out what has gotten this reaction and don't see anything out of the ordinary. "What?"

  She cocks her head in the direction of the refreshment table. "Perfect ten at nine o'clock. Your, uh, dream guy just arrived. In a very nice costume. Yowza."

  I look to my left and see Trip dressed as a Chippendale dancer. Black spandex pants, a collar and cuffs. That's it. My eyes bug out, as the sight of his shirtless body in real life is even more impressive than what I saw in my dream. "Damn."

  "You mean hot damn. Geez, he's gotta be twice as big as Jake. Look at the size of his chest. And those abs. His muscles have muscles." Rox licks her lips. "I want."

  "You're taken."

  She shrugs, her eyes locked on Trip. "Wanting and having are two different things, my friend. I can want something even though I can't have it. I want a Rolls Royce but I know I can't have it. And that boy is a fully loaded Rolls. But damn, I want."

  "Take a number," I say, as I see every girl in the room looking in his direction. Aspen, who is dressed as a cave girl, must also notice this as she moves closer and wraps an arm around his waist. She's nearly six feet tall but looks petite next to Trip. "He's already taken as well. Note the tall supermodel doubling as a clinging vine."

  She wrinkles her nose. "It's always a stacked, leggy blonde, isn't it?"

  "This coming from a stacked, leggy brunette. But Aspen's really nice. And funny. You'd like her."

  "I'd like to be her right now."

  Suddenly, we're back in high school. "Why, what would you do to him?"

  "It's more like what he could do to me. He's big enough to carry me away, which doesn't happen often for a girl my size." She turns to me and raises one eyebrow. "Of course, you've already had that pleasure. I assume you enjoyed the ride?"

  The image of Trip carrying me to the infirmary with my sprained ankle flashes through my brain and makes me blush. "It, uh, wasn't exactly unpleasant."

  "Yeah, right. To quote yourself, you're taken."

  "True." I can't stop staring as Trip gets a couple of drinks and hands one to Aspen, who is busy running her hands over his chest.

  "Though from your look it appears you've still got it bad for the guy."

  "I'm trying not to think about it, Rox."

  "I'm not having that problem. And if you're trying not to think about it, stop staring at him like he's dinner and you're a starving woman. Or I'll have to get you a drool cup."

  I finally break out of my trance and turn to her. "Fine. And since you're obviously stuck on the size matters subject, may I remind you that Jake proves good things come in small packages."

  "Very true. But you know serious eye candy does that to me. I just had a superficial cheap slut moment. I'm dressed like one, so I'm simply acting the part."

  "Right. I was beginning to worry you might be obsessing about the fact Jake is so much shorter than you."

  "You kidding? I love having a boyfriend who's portable. If we ever get married I'll be carrying him over the threshold. He lets me embrace my inner Amazon." We start walking back to our table. "You know, it might be good if Ryan saw that," she says, pointing at Trip.

  "Are you out of your mind? He's already intimidated. The last thing he needs is a view of the guy without a shirt."

  "I meant seeing Trip with a hot blonde draped all over him."

  "Oh."

  "Might help with the jealousy problem, ya think? If he saw those two he might not consider Trip a threat anymore."

  "You've got a point." Meanwhile, what do we do about my jealousy problem? I feel the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head as my eyes lock one more time on the best-looking man I've ever seen.

  We get back to the table where Ryan and Jake are busy eating. Ryan's looking hot dressed as a football player, complete with eye black. Jake is cute as hell in his genie costume. I note that Trip and Aspen are now doing a slow dance in the middle of the floor.

  Roxanne taps Jake on the shoulder, whispers in his ear and he nods. He nudges Ryan in the arm, then points to the dance floor. "Dude, don't think you have to worry about someone going after your girl. Those two look like they need to get a room."

  I notice Ryan begin to smile as he sees Aspen hanging all over Trip. "Yeah, no kidding," he says.

  I reach under the table and pat Roxanne on the leg. She turns to me and winks, then leans over to whisper in my ear. "You're welcome. But I still want."

  Yeah. Me too.

  I find myself in a massive modern kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances. A large black granite center island sits in the middle underneath a rack of copper saucepans. A large simmering pot which looks and smells like my mother's beef stew is on the gas cook top, while the aroma of baking cookies blends in from the oven. I'm dressed in an outfit much too nice for the kitchen, an eggshell silk blouse and gray wool skirt with conservative pumps.

  And a look at my hand reveals Carrielle's emerald ring.

  So my dream has landed me in a McMansion. Hey, I coulda landed in a trailer park so I won't complain.

  But is this my dream or one provided by the dream weaver? Inquiring minds wanna know.

  My heels click on the black and white marble floor as I walk around the kitchen. (Seriously, who wears heels to cook?) A peek into the living room shows off beautiful red leather furniture and massive oak antiques atop gleaming dark hardwood floors. A look out one kitchen window reveals a large swimming pool in the center of a manicured back yard, while another window frames a gleaming red Mercedes convertible in the driveway with a vanity license plate that has my name on it. Okay, so I'm rich in this dream. I could
get used to this in real life.

  I hear the front door open, followed by a chorus of, "Mom, we're home!"

  Mom? Me?

  I hear footsteps, then see the source, as a boy and girl around eight or nine years old run into the kitchen and wrap their arms around my waist, one on each side of me. "Hey there," I say, not knowing what to do. I study their faces as they look up and smile at me. The little girl is slender with red hair, freckles and eyes that match mine, both in color and a devilish look. She's a definite Mini-Me. The little boy has neatly parted dark hair and looks sharp in a school uniform, dark slacks and a blue button down oxford shirt. I can already tell he's gonna be a heart breaker. "Uh…how was school?"

  "Great, Mom," says the girl.

  The boy reaches into his back pocket and thrusts out a blue folder. "Report card day!" The girl then hands me hers.

  I open them and see a parade of A's. Cool, my kids take after me. I look at the tops of the cards and see the boy's name is Scott, the girl's Roxanne. The fact I named my daughter after my best friend makes me smile. "Wow, terrific report cards, guys! I'm proud of you!"

  I hear the door open again, which makes the kids whip their heads in that direction. "Daddy's home!" says the girl, as they run to greet him.

  I can't help but feel warm inside at the fairy tale dream as I wait for Ryan, but it fades when my "husband" walks into the kitchen.

  Trip Logan.

  He's decked out in a dark gray windowpane business suit, white shirt and red striped tie and smiles as he sees me. "Hey, babe," he says, moving toward me.

  I shake my head and put out my hand, giving him the Heisman. "Whoa, you're outta here," I say, and snap my fingers.

  Nothing happens.

  "What are you talking about?" he asks, as he reaches out for me with both hands.

  I back up. "Go, get out! Now!" I snap my fingers again but nothing happens.

  Both children look puzzled. "Mom, what's wrong?" asks the boy.

  Trip's smile fades as he furrows his brow. "Jillian, why are you acting so upset?"

  "I'm supposed to be able to control my dreams and I know this is a dream. I want you gone. So get lost." I snap my fingers again.

  He smiles and shakes his head. "That's funny. Control your dreams. You can't control your dreams."

  "Sure I can. But for some reason I can't control this one."

  "You don't get it, do you?"

  "Get what?"

  “This isn’t your dream, Jillian. It’s mine.”

  Chapter 12

  My heart rate spikes as my eyes widen in fear. "What the hell?"

  "I'm not kidding. This is my dream," Trip says casually. "That's all. You happen to be in it. Jillian, it's nothing to be afraid of." He waves his arms around the kitchen "None of this is real."

  "Fine, then I'm leaving," I say, as I walk around the island to avoid him. I leave the kitchen and head toward the front door.

  Which is no longer there.

  "What happened to the door?"

  Trip follows, moves in front of me and smiles as he puts his hands on my shoulders, sending electricity through my body. "It's my dream, Jillian. I want you to stay. Please don't be upset with me."

  I twist my body away and back up. A quick look for another escape reveals that all the doors and windows are now solid walls. "I don't want to stay, Trip. Let me go. Please."

  "You can't leave because this isn't real and it's my dream. There's no harm done. Let's just sit and talk." He gestures toward the dining room table.

  "No. You know damn well you want to do more than talk." I close my eyes and focus. "Wake up, Jillian. Dammit, wake up!"

  Nothing happens.

  I open my eyes and see him sitting at the head of the table. He pats the chair next to him. "C'mon. Sit and talk awhile. Really, Jillian, I just like being around you. In this dream we must be a happy married couple with a couple of cute kids, that's all."

  What the hell, I'm obviously stuck. The damn dream weaver has figured out that if I can control my own dreams she's going to send me into someone else's. May as well try to get some information while I'm here. "Fine. But just talk. Keep your hands to yourself."

  He folds his hands on the table. "Fair enough. I just want to spend some time with you."

  I walk through the living room, pausing a bit to take in the photo grouping on one wall. A wedding photo with me looking radiant in a gown while Trip would give James Bond a run for his money in a tux. Several photos of the children, all of us on various vacations. The two of us on a beach, my arms wrapped around his waist. A family portrait that includes my Mom, who is beaming as she sits between her grandchildren. I move to the table and take a seat. "Trip, do you know why this is happening? Why I'm in your dream?"

  "I'm assuming because this is what I daydream almost every day. I guess it finally manifested itself in a real dream. I recently read a book on lucid dreaming and this is called dream incubation. If you focus on what you want to dream about, sometimes it happens. This is what I was thinking about before I fell asleep so it carried over into this dream."

  "You daydream this? Me and you with two kids in a mansion?"

  He blushes as he nods. "Happily ever after. I know, Jillian, it's corny and a little embarrassing. I realize you're taken and have a serious boyfriend, but I can't help imagining what things would be like if you were available."

  I furrow my brow. "Trip, you're dating a terrific girl. Aspen's fun, smart and a helluva lot prettier than me. Why don't you daydream about her? I thought you liked her a lot."

  "I do. She's a great girl and we have fun together. She's in bed with me right now."

  My eyes widen. "Wow, Trip, what a great pickup line. Even for a dream. Great way to win a girl's heart."

  "Haven't you ever had a fantasy, Jillian? Pretended you were with someone else when you were with your boyfriend?"

  My face tightens. "No. When I'm with Ryan he's all I think about. Because he's all I want."

  He shrugs. "Well, we're different, that's all. Guys are different, especially when it comes to women we can't have. I couldn't get you out of my head after seeing you at the party tonight. You looked hot in that Star Trek uniform. Damn, you've got great legs."

  "In case you haven't noticed, Aspen is built like a supermodel. Most guys would kill for a girl like that. And since she's in your bed right now, it should be obvious she's crazy about you. Why don't you wake up and play around with her? It will actually be real."

  "I'm sorry, Jillian, but I'm intoxicated with you. I simply like to imagine what it would be like if you weren't attached. I know you're attracted to me. I was hoping to catch your eye at the party with my costume."

  "I think you caught every girl's eye dressing up as a male stripper."

  "So, you liked what you saw?"

  Hell yeah, but I'm not telling him that. "Trip, this conversation isn't helping things. I am off the market, for good. Ryan and I are getting married some day. I love him, he loves me, we're soul mates, end of story. And I think this is also the end of our discussion."

  "Will you at least admit you're attracted to me?"

  "Trip, you said you wanted to sit and talk, and we've done that. For whatever reason you've got the hots for me while you've got Aspen in your bed. That's your problem, not mine. Please let me go."

  He shrugs and exhales as he looks down. "I guess I can't force you to love me, but it's a nice fantasy. I'm sorry if I've offended you." I can see his eyes growing moist.

  I dial down my anger a notch as it's clear he's hurt. "Look, Trip, you're a nice guy but you should know you're being manipulated. And so am I. You might find this hard to believe, but there's this woman called a dream weaver who's main objective is to drive me and Ryan apart and she's using you to do it. You're not really into me, you're being made to believe it. I'm actually a mystic seer and I did a reading for Aspen and saw you two falling in love. If you're not there already."

  "Wow, this dream is getting weird. But I guess that's typical
since we're not dealing with reality."

  I get up, turn and see the front door is still not there. I fold my arms and glare at him. "Dammit, Trip let me go. Open the door."

  "Tell you what. One kiss and you can go."

  I roll my eyes. "Oh, for goodness sake—"

  "It's a dream, Jillian. One kiss. Harmless."

  "I already kissed you in real life. And that was anything but harmless."

  He smiles and points to his cheek.

  The front door still isn't there.

  I shake my head and throw up my hands. "Fine. If it's the only way out of here."

  I move toward Trip, lean down and kiss him.

  And then I can't stop.

  I now know what women mean when they use the term "walk of shame."

  No, things didn't get that far. But if my alarm clock hadn't jolted me out of Trip's dream, who knows what might have happened. Still, I'm horribly ashamed of myself, even if none of it was real. Ashamed that I "cheated" on Ryan even if it wasn't real. Ashamed that I didn't want it to stop, that I enjoyed the hell out of it. Ashamed that I rationalized it by repeatedly telling myself, "No big deal, it's only a dream. Ryan will never know."

  I thought I was out of there with one peck on the cheek. But as I leaned in he turned his head so our lips would meet.

  It was like the kiss magnetized my entire body, connected me to him in a manner that wouldn't let me leave. I was powerless as I attacked him with a hunger I've never known, one even stronger than the first time we connected. He pulled me onto his lap and my body molded itself into his like it was a perfect fit. The physical chemistry was incredible, nothing even close to what I feel with Ryan. We made out for what seemed like an hour even though time has no meaning in dreams. I'd ripped open his shirt so hard the buttons flew across the floor and was busy running my hands over his incredible chest and shoulders while I straddled him, kissing Trip like I was trying to devour him. I was totally in control of him. His hands gently slipped under my blouse, beginning to explore. His touch only heightening my attraction. I didn't want it to ever end.