Dream About Cynthia

Dream About Cynthia

"Jesus! What kind of demonic teacher do you people have in that school?" Mom exclaimed. "What will they gain if the kids miss the quiz? Please, help me go drag that sleeping Damian out. The cute Heather is still snoring."

I never thought Cynthia would want to come into my room alone after what happened yesterday. But she actually did. One of the main reasons I didn’t want to go to school today was because I was scared to face her after everything. I thought maybe she wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore. So when I realized she was in my room—alone—I was shocked.

Even though my eyes were closed, I wasn’t asleep. I was fully aware of my surroundings. I knew when she walked in, but I assumed it was Mom coming to force me out of bed for breakfast like always. To my surprise, it wasn’t her.

Cynthia entered the room like she owned the place, walked over, and sat on the bed with her feet still on the floor. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in and pressed a soft, wet kiss on my cheek.

I froze.

I knew instantly that kiss wasn’t from Mom. Sure, Mom kisses my cheek often, but not like this. This wasn’t one of her usual pecks. I actually felt Cynthia’s tongue graze my skin. My mom wouldn’t do that.

The moment I registered what had happened, I jumped up in shock. My eyes flew open to see Cynthia sitting there, all dressed up for school, smiling at me with those soft, alluring lips of hers.

"Are you here?" I asked, my voice still groggy from sleep. "Or am I still dreaming?"

I had to ask because, funny enough, I had just been dreaming about Cynthia before she came in.

"Hahaha! I'm here," she laughed. "You're not dreaming, my cute heartbreak."

My heart sank the moment she said that.

I knew she must have been talking to Mom. That was Mom’s favorite nickname for me whenever I did something she didn’t approve of. Out of all the words she could use to scold me, that was the worst she ever called me—"heartbreak." It didn’t even sound like an insult, but knowing Mom, she had a way of making it sting.

"Come on, Damie," Cynthia said. "Why don’t you want to go to school? Yeah, I know you’re good at swimming, but you still need to practice. Plus, our housemaster wants to give you some swimming tips. The competition is just on Monday. Don't tell me you’re underestimating Kunle? That guy is really good. There was even a time people were saying he uses black magic to swim faster."

She paused, then added, "Well, I don’t believe in all that, but you have to admit—if someone is so good that people start making up stories about them, then you know they’re a real threat."

I sighed.

"I'm not underestimating anybody," I muttered. "To be honest, I'm even scared of him."

"No, baby," she said, shaking her head. "You don’t have to be scared of him. You’re a damn good swimmer too. Now, get up, go wash up, and meet me in the sitting room. And mind you, I told Mom we’re having a surprise test today."

She winked, then stood up to leave.

I stretched lazily and pushed down my duvet, completely forgetting that I had slept in just my boxers. Worse still, it was morning, and—well—you know how things get in the morning.

The moment Cynthia saw me, her eyes widened in horror.

"Jesus!" she shrieked. "What is that? Oh my God!"

She bolted out of the room so fast you’d think she had seen a ghost.

I groaned, pulling the duvet back up.

Damn. Why is my body like this?

Now she’s going to think I’m some kind of pervert when, in reality, I don’t even know what it actually feels like to have sex.

Now, about the dream I had last night.

It was sweet. Not scary like the last one I had after my first swim.

Lately, I’ve noticed that I tend to dream my thoughts in a more poetic way.

This was the dream:

Cynthia and I were in a beautiful park with a massive flower garden. The place looked like a fairytale—flowers of every color, bright and vibrant, swaying gently in the breeze. The air smelled fresh and sweet, and there were people all around us, all in pairs, like couples on a romantic getaway.

We were happy.

Cynthia was busy sniffing flowers and admiring the way the wind made them dance. It was peaceful.

Then, out of nowhere, the crowd disappeared.

Suddenly, we were the only ones left in the garden. The sky darkened fast, thick clouds rolling in like a storm was about to break loose. The wind picked up, sending chills down my spine.

Realizing we had to leave, we ran to the roadside to get a cab. But there was none.

Then, the rain started.

It poured down heavily, drenching us within seconds. There was no shelter in sight, so we sprinted back into the garden, looking for anything to hide under.

That’s when we saw a small wooden hut in the middle of the garden.

We ran inside, but we were already soaked to the bone.

Cynthia stood there, shivering.

She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself for warmth. Her lips trembled, and her hair dripped water down her face, trailing over her skin like tiny rivers. She looked up at me, her eyes wide, almost like a lost puppy.

My chest tightened.

I wanted to help her.

I stepped closer, hesitated for a second, then wrapped my arms around her, hoping my body heat would warm her up. But she was still shivering.

She kept staring at me, those eyes of hers locked onto mine.

And then, before I could stop myself, I leaned in.

I kissed her.

It was deep. Slow. Intense.

I felt her shudder as her lips moved against mine. Then she responded.

She kissed me back.

I could feel her breath—warm and soft—mingling with mine. Her scent was intoxicating, a mix of fresh rain and something sweeter.

Her lips parted slightly, and at that moment, I felt something else.

Something deeper.

A hunger.

A need.

Her breath, her touch, the way she melted into me—it was electrifying.

It felt like—

Sex.

And then I woke up.