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Message-ID: <61687asstr$1320757801@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Sterling Smith <sterling27@live.com>
Importance: Normal
Subject: {ASSM} I'll See You In My Dreams (Part 3 of 3) (1st Mg mg mf bg het cons ESP ScFi)
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Date: Tue, 08 Nov 2011 08:10:01 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Author: Sterling
Title: I'll See You In My Dreams (PART 3 of 3)
Description: 12-year-old Cyrus's desire for certain girls makes him
dream over and over each night of trying to have sex with them -- not
something he can control.  Tara and Melanie share his dreams, though none
of them understands the connection at first.  But then Tara's 5-year-old
sister Hannah reports similar dreams involving her friend's father, and the
plot thickens.  The big kids share their experiences, and then unite to
save Hannah from the clutches of a misdirected sexual abuse investigation.
Codes: 1st Mg mg mf bg het cons ESP ScFi
NOTICE: This story contains explicit sex.



   First posted 11/6/2011.



   I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed.  Comments to
sterling27@live.com.



   I have written many other stories and they can all be found at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sterling/

   For an index see
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sterling/A%20%20SUBJECT%20INDEX.txt



   You are welcome to copy this story if you include the entire text
unchanged, including this notice.  If you tell me where you have re-posted
it, I can enjoy knowing it is appreciated and perhaps enjoy the feedback
the story gets where you re-post it.



   Sterling



   And now, our feature presentation.  Enjoy!

   ======================================================== I'll See You In
My Dreams (PART 3 of 3)

   Cyrus's secret was out, and it was a relief.  The girls knew he had
dreamed of pawing and poking and almost starting to rape them, over and
over again.  That was shameful and embarrassing.  But they'd accepted it as
natural for a boy, albeit without enthusiasm.

   He smiled.  They'd also accepted his dream cock, straight and hard and
deep.

   It was easier to be around them now.  With Melanie, it looked like it
hadn't just been some accident or trick when she'd asked him over.  She
really seemed to have a thing for him -- some kind of thing.  And he
couldn't figure out what he should be doing about it, if anything.  He was
only twelve, and an awkward nerd to boot.

   It was more comfortable with Tara.  Yeah, they fucked every night in
their dreams, but it felt like just hormones, just sex.  And he really felt
bad for her sister, both because she was a little kid in a tough spot, but
also because the strange power or disease or whatever it was that caused
this little girl's problem was one he had too.  He was pretty sure Mr. 
Anderson did dream of screwing the little girl -- which kind of made him
shudder.  And imagine what it would be like, again and again throughout the
night, trying to get into the poor little girl's junior pussy, and having
her shove him away.  What horrible dreams!  They were bad enough when he'd
been trying to do it with girls his own age, but to be constantly trying to
rape a little girl?  Blech!  Unless of course you really did deep down want
to have sex with a little girl.  What would that really feel like?  He
didn't know, and he didn't want to know.  Perverts were disgusting.

   --------------------------------------------------------

   Tara had invited him over after school so he could meet Hannah and see
if anything she said could give him more ideas.

   "Hello, there, Hannah," he said.

   She was the cutest little thing on two legs.  Bright smile, perfect
little face.  He knew she was unhappy and anxious, which made him wonder
what she'd look like if she was happy!

   "Hi," she said.

   "I've got something to show you." He'd brought over a levitating
magnetic top, something little kids loved.  You set this heavy little top
spinning really fast on a big magnetic base, lifted it a little, and it
just sat there spinning in mid-air.  Hannah was delighted with it, and that
occupied them for half an hour.

   She then asked if he could read her a book.  He was happy to and got
into it, finding a different voice for each character, which made Hannah
giggle.  Halfway through she climbed up on his lap and leaned against him
as he read.  What a dear, sweet child!

   How could a man dream of having sex with a girl like this?  She was
pretty, true, and sweet, and her little body was magnificent in its own way
-- just not that way.

   Tara stayed in the background during their play session.  Once Hannah
was comfortable with him, Tara joined them for a talk about what she was
going through -- what it was like for her.

   Cyrus didn't learn anything particularly useful.  But it was weird to
hear her talk about Mr.  Anderson's big penis and see her poke her own
penis finger in and out of a tube of vagina fingers from her other hand. 
It was weird to see her demonstrate lying back with legs spread -- even if
she did keep her dress smoothed down to preserve her modesty.  It was weird
to see her pointing her finger right there at her dress between her legs.
It was weird to see her face contort like a man's would when he was about
to have an orgasm.  Little girls didn't usually do any of those things. 
But she relayed them without shame.

   Tara explained that Hannah had to act all solemn and sad when she
described this to other people.  But she knew Tara believed it was a dream
and didn't judge her.  She was terribly thankful to her sister for giving
her permission to just give in to Mr.  Anderson when he came to her in her
dreams, and now she was sleeping so much better.  So with Tara around she
could make contact with the part of the experience that was a fun, exciting
adventure.

   --------------------------------------------------------

   Cyrus woke and stretched, having slept fairly well.  But when a few of
his dreams came back to him, his heart pounded and he burned with shame. 
He'd screwed Melanie once early in the night, and then Tara.  That was
fine. But then Hannah had shown up in his dreams.  And he had nudged her
onto her back and nudged her legs apart.  He was naked and his cock was
hard.  Why was it hard?  She was just a little girl!  The memory of his
hard, twitching cock made him a little sick to his stomach.  She'd pushed
him away the first time, and the second, but the third time she'd let him
go for it.  And an icy chill went through him as he recovered that memory
of driving home, driving to the hilt up under the small girl's dress.  In
the dream she had been every bit as hot and wet and silky as the big girls
-- and a little bit tighter.  He'd lasted maybe a minute, while Hannah gave
him a look of curiosity.  And then he'd come, his dream-self ecstatic to
shoot his sperm deep in the little girl's body.  What the hell was all that
about?

   And then the horror doubled.  Because if this fit with the pattern, the
real Hannah had shared the exact same dream.  First the pervert Mr. 
Anderson, and then him, Cyrus.  She had trusted him so much in their
delightful afternoon together, and what had he done with the trust? 
Betrayed it, violated it, violated her, raped a little girl.  Only in his
dream, true, but in a dream she shared.  First the pervert Mr.  Anderson,
now the pervert Cyrus.

   He had to keep it quiet, of course.  But how could he do that?  How
could he ask Hannah to keep that secret -- if he did get to her before she
told Tara.  And if Tara knew, others would find out, including Melanie --
and eventually even Emily.

   Cyrus convinced his parents he was too sick to go to school.  He didn't
have to fake the part about feeling awful.  All day he went through anger,
shame, guilt, and fear, varying as regularly as fever and chills.  At last
he knew what he had to do.  After dinner, he biked over to Tara and
Hannah's house and rang the bell without prior arrangement.

   --------------------------------------------------------

   "Hi, Cyrus!" said Tara.  "I didn't expect to see you!  You never get
sick.  But you're looking awfully pale.  Are you feeling better?"

   "Yeah, pretty much," he said.

   Tara's mother had answered the door, and now peered in from the kitchen
in interest at the unusual evening visit.

   "Can we talk alone?' he asked.

   "Sure," she said, and she led him to her room.

   "How's Hannah?" he asked, voice trembling.

   "She's sulking, I'm afraid.  Last night she kept chatting all through
dinner about what you'd done with the top and your voice in the story and
all.  This morning she said quietly that she'd had a dream about you.  I
laughed, 'Not a dream like with Mr.  Anderson, I hope.' Then she walked out
and hasn't said much of anything since."

   She turned to her friend.  "So what was wrong with you?  Are you all
better?  Say, you look awful!"

   "You have to go talk to Hannah," Cyrus said in a flat voice that didn't
sound like him.  He was walking calmly to the scaffold.

   "Why?"

   "Because she wasn't making it up."

   "Making what up?"

   "The dream about me."

   "You dreamed about her too?  What, doing it to her?" she asked,
laughing.

   "Yes," he said simply.  "I'm so sorry."

   Tara froze, eyes open wide.  "You did?  My sister?  You're kidding!"

   "I'm not kidding.  Worry about me later.  You need to go to Hannah, and
apologize for not believing her, right?"

   "You asshole!" said Tara, half shouting.  "How could you?"

   "I didn't mean to!  I never meant to do any of it, right?  But please --
do the right thing for your sister.  Hannah first, OK?"

   With a hard last look, Tara nearly slammed the door on him, corralling
the pervert in her bedroom to be dealt with later.

   Through the door, Cyrus heard quiet voices, a little crying, more soft
voices, and -- he breathed a sigh of relief -- laughter!  Or were they
plotting just how to humiliate him most thoroughly?

   The clock on Tara's desk told him she had been gone only 14 minutes.  As
she shut the door behind her, Cyrus steeled himself for anything.

   "She pushed you away and you kept coming back?"

   "Twice, yeah."

   "Asshole!" Tara grabbed a sweater that was lying on her dresser and
hurled it at Cyrus with all her might.

   "I'm sorry," he whispered.

   "Pervert.  Asshole.  Prick.  Rapist.  Slimeball.  Shithead," repeated
Tara, pacing.

   "Sorry."

   "You nailed me pretty good right after you went to bed, but it wasn't
enough, huh?  You did Melanie too, I suppose?"

   Cyrus nodded.

   "Two gorgeous babes spread their legs for you, you fuck 'em both to the
hilt, and it's not enough.  You have to go rape my fucking little sister!"
she hissed.

   Cyrus started crying, first holding back the stomach contractions as
best he could.  But within seconds he was openly sobbing.  He looked down
and closed his eyes, seeing no point in shielding himself from whatever
missile Tara saw fit to use next.

   But sometimes, of course, such raw emotion serves multiple purposes.

   "You didn't plan it, right?"

   Cyrus shook his head.

   "You didn't come over yesterday and get her to plop her butt down in
your lap so you could dream about fucking it later?"

   Cyrus shook his head again.

   They heard a soft knocking on the door.

   "Go away!" shouted Tara.

   But the door opened anyway, and it was not a concerned parent who
appeared.  It was Hannah.

   "What's wrong, Cyrus?" she asked in her pure voice.

   Cyrus looked up briefly into the sweet face and felt a new wave of shame
crash over him.

   Tara said, "It's OK, Hannah, there's nothing for you to worry about.  Go
back to your room."

   But Hannah had other ideas.  She hopped up on the bed next to Cyrus and
leaned against him, putting a small arm around behind his back.

   "What's wrong?" repeated the little one.

   Cyrus felt completely lost, but his one anchor was the little girl.  He
could do what was best for her.

   "You remember your dreams last night?"

   "Yeah."

   "The ones with me in them?"

   Hannah gave a conspiratorial grin.

   "Well, I'm not supposed to have dreams like that.  You're never supposed
to have men doing things like that to you."

   "In real life right?  But in dreams it's OK."

   "Not really."

   "But that's what you've been telling me all this time."

   "Oh, it's OK for you.  You didn't do anything wrong.  I'm the one who
did something wrong."

   Hannah frowned, was silent a moment, and then spoke.  "You should stop
crying.  I'm sick of everyone getting all sad because of my funny dreams."
And with that, she squirmed her way into Cyrus's lap and leaned back
against him.

   Cyrus was touched and felt an impulse to cry again, but found he could
control himself for the sake of the girl in his lap.  She'd said not to
cry, and he'd do his best not to.

   He had no trace of an erection or any erotic feelings for the girl.  He
felt tender, protective, loving.  She seemed unaware of her little butt in
her pajamas resting warmly on his crotch.  His sleeping cock flopped inside
his pants, inches from her own genitals, which were hidden in panties up
under her nightgown.  They had shared a dream the night before wherein the
stiff incarnation of his cock had filled that little pussy with an urgency
of desire, but it didn't seem to matter to Hannah.  And when he thought
about it the right way, it didn't matter to him either.

   Cyrus leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of Hannah's head.  As he
did, his eyes locked with Tara's, and he held the kiss for a second.  Her
expression was hard to read.

   The little girl yawned.

   "I feel much better, Hannah.  Time for bed now?"

   "OK," she said, scrambling up.  On the way, she kissed Cyrus on the
cheek and giggled.

   "Maybe I'd better go too?" Cyrus asked after she'd left.

   "Yeah, I think you should," said Tara.

   And as he walked home, Cyrus thought about things.  I must not dream
about Hannah again, he thought.  I absolutely must not.  If there is one
wish I ever need to have granted, he thought, it's that I not dream about
Hannah again.  Not Hannah!

   --------------------------------------------------------

   Cyrus appeared naked beside Tara.  There was her pussy, and it was time
to mate -- but she pushed him away.

   Some time later he appeared beside Melanie.  Her legs were already
spread wide, her pussy glistening, and she smiled as she welcomed him
inside.  She'd cut short his efforts to be a better lover lately.  He
glided in and out of his dream goddess with ever-increasing pleasure,
before fulfilling his male nature, delivering his payload in a glow of
satisfaction.

   Later he dreamed he lay on top of Tara, penis against her stomach, but
the angry-looking girl threw him off, her mouth open and yelling something
he couldn't hear.

   There was little Hannah, smiling up at him.  With bright eyes she
hitched up her skirts and spread her legs wide.  He wanted her, so he took
her.  He had a nagging feeling that there was something he was supposed to
remember, but he couldn't.  He saw his cock tip nudging against her cute
little labia, then looked up at her face as his cock somehow drove deep
into the little girl, whose pussy gripped him tightly with exquisite
warmth. Ten strokes later his dream orgasm flooded the little girl with
sperm while she grinned at him, and then the scene vanished.

   There was Tara again, sitting naked on the bed, legs crossed and hands
crossed over her small breasts, glaring at him.  He pulled her arm aside to
see the nipple underneath, but she quickly covered it up again.  He tried
again, with similar results.  He felt more than lust, he felt anger.  He
tried pushing her back onto the bed, and she resisted once more.  And then
in the dream she spat on his face.  Now he was furious and shoved her down
with all his might.  She wriggled with all her strength, but it wasn't
enough.  She raised her knee quickly, catching him in the balls, and it
hurt -- though more in theory than in practice.  He slapped her face and
shook her shoulders, and she lay back, shocked.  It was hard work prying
her legs apart, but he managed, pinning them with his knees.  With his
fingers he roughly tore her labial folds open and lodged his hungry stiff
tip against her inner folds.  He shoved, and her tissues could offer no
resistance.  With one palm pressing down against each upper inner thigh,
holding her apart, he jammed deep over and over.  He'd fuck her, yeah, but
he'd also teach her a lesson.  He was the boss.  How dare she spit in his
face or knee his balls!  His pleasure built, his anger intertwined with
lust, and he shot his load deep in the still-struggling girl.  Take that,
cunt, he thought.  His lust and anger faded in tandem with his spurts, and
soon the scene ended.

   --------------------------------------------------------

   In French class, Tara glared at Cyrus and Cyrus glared right back.  They
didn't speak that day, or the next.

   Melanie listened patiently to Tara's side of the story, told with venom
over and over.  She managed to get an account of events from Cyrus, though
not as thorough and delivered in far fewer words.  Then she dragged the two
of them together into the French classroom after school.

   "You raped me!"

   "I'm sorry, but it was just a dream.  And you spit in my face."

   "Well, why were you trying to do me when I was pushing you away, over
and over?"

   "What have I ever been trying to do?  I was trying to fuck you."

   "Did you fuck my sister too?  Again?"

   "Yes.  She had that evil little grin on her face, but she didn't mind."

   "You're a pervert!"

   "My id does what it wants.  I don't have any control over it!"

   "You never forced yourself on me before."

   "No, I never did.  I guess I was really mad.  Especially after you kneed
me in the balls!"

   "Cyrus!  Tara!" interrupted Melanie.

   "I suppose you fucked her too."

   "Melanie and I made love, I think you'd say."

   "She's a slut.  She'll open up her cunt for any cock that wants her."

   "Hey!" said Melanie.

   Cyrus smiled sadly and shook his head.

   "Pervert!" hissed Tara.

   "Tara!  Shut up!" yelled Melanie.

   After a few moments of silence, she continued, "Cyrus pointed out that
Hannah wasn't just being a little girl that afternoon.  She was showing
just how she lay back to take Mr.  Anderson, she mimed intercourse with her
hands, and she pointed between her legs.  Besides which, Cyrus's
introduction to her was because she was having dreams of getting molested."

   "So what?"

   "So, she was sort of, kind of asking for it, in a way."

   "She was not!"

   "Not for real, no, but you could see a boy's id might get confused in
his dreams."

   Tara thought about that for a moment.  "So if your id wants to screw
your mother, you'll just let it?  What about Mrs.  Dubois?" she said,
tossing her head momentarily up towards the teacher's desk.  She laughed.
"What about your father, huh?  Dogs?  You want to do it with dogs? 
Squirrels, maybe?"

   Cyrus sat, looking down.  "I can't say that any of those appeal to me,
but if my id decided it wants to, I still have no idea what I could do to
stop it."

   Another brief silence.  "Would you force yourself on Hannah?  In your
dreams, I mean?"

   "No," Cyrus answered firmly.

   "How do you know what your 'id' might do?"

   "I just know it," he said.  "She's just a kid.  I could never do that to
a kid."

   "What if she spit in your face or kicked you in the balls?"

   Cyrus shook his head.  "Not Hannah."

   Melanie said, "Tara, in the real world, in what he can control, Cyrus
has been trying very hard to help Hannah, right?  To help you and Hannah?"

   Tara sighed.  "I'm sorry for kicking you in the balls."

   "It's OK.  You couldn't help it.  I'm really, really sorry for hitting
you -- and raping you."

   "OK.  What else?" asked Tara, arms folded, staring at him defiantly.

   "I'm incredibly sorry for having sex with your sister.  Twice."

   "Shake?" asked Melanie.  "Like in one of those old guy flicks?"

   Tara stuck out her hand and Cyrus shook it, but Tara wasn't quite done.
"Next time maybe I'll bring a knife into my dream and cut your dick off. 
It's just a dream, right?"

   "Yeah," sighed Cyrus.  "I wouldn't blame you.  Hopefully that would just
stay in the dream like everything else," he said, his hand unconsciously
moving to cover his crotch.

   The girls looked down at it and smiled.  Cyrus saw, smiled too, and
moved his hand aside.

   Melanie reached down and patted the front of his pants.  "Nice little
cock," she said.

   "How is Hannah?" asked Cyrus quietly.

   "OK, I guess.  Not much has changed.  But she still can't see Kate.  And
they come twice a week to interview her and the rest of us."

   "I had another thought about Hannah."

   "Besides screwing her?"

   "Come on, Tara," said Melanie.

   "You know how I said before that Hannah could lie about how she knew
about sex?"

   "Yeah."

   "And you pointed out rightly that we didn't want to make her lie, and
even if she was willing she wouldn't be able to keep a straight story. 
That made me think of something that might work."

   Melanie was skeptical at first, and Tara was outraged, but as he
explained it over and over, eventually they came on board.  It might take
Tara a long time to really forgive Cyrus, but she loved her sister more
than she hated him.

   --------------------------------------------------------

   "Hey, Hannah, I want to show you some stuff, OK?"

   "What kind of stuff?" said Hannah happily.

   "Here on my computer."

   She pulled up a chair and looked.

   "That's a penis!"

   "Yeah, you recognize it, huh?"

   "Yeah, it looks like Mr.  Anderson's, not Cyrus's."

   "Why?"

   "The thing on top is all showing like that."

   "Oh, you're right," said Hannah.  Cyrus wasn't circumcised.

   Hannah went on through the pictures, showing her naked women and men in
various stages of lovemaking.  To keep things simple, they'd edited the
pictures to show nothing but grown-ups in stages leading straight to
ordinary intercourse.  No breast-sucking, no oral sex, nothing anal.  No
toys.

   She ended with a couple short video clips of adults screwing, gentle
missionary-position fucks.

   "Was that interesting, Hannah?"

   "Yeah, I guess.  Why'd you show it to me?"

   "Oh, I just thought a little girl should know about the facts of life."

   "Those are the facts of life?"

   "Well, that's what mommies and daddies do all the time.  And it's what
they do to make babies."

   "Really?"

   Tara explained reproduction.  Hannah listened in fascination.  The only
way her reaction differed from that of a typical five-year-old was that she
didn't make the "grossed out" face.  She already knew about that part.

   "So, is it a secret?" whispered Hannah.

   "I'd rather you didn't tell mommy or daddy right away.  But you could
mention it to the social workers when they ask."

   "Why?"

   "You know how they don't believe you just dreamed this stuff?"

   "Yeah!"

   "Well, this is another way you could have learned about it, right?"

   "That's silly.  I already knew all about it."

   "Yeah, but you could have gotten mixed up about what happened when,
right?"

   "No!  They're always telling me I'm mixed up!  I'm not mixed up about
stuff!"

   "No, of course not, honey.  Just tell them the truth.  But I'll give you
a little advice: if you say you might have gotten mixed up about this, I
think they'll stop asking you all those questions."

   Hannah just frowned.

   "Don't worry about it, Henny -- I mean, Hannah, Hannah!  Do whatever you
want.  I believe everything you say, and you don't have to lie.  But -- if
you tell them you might be confused about this, I think things will go
better for you."

   As Hannah left, Tara thought: But not for me.

   --------------------------------------------------------

   Tara's parents were furious.  She said maybe she'd shown Hannah that
stuff before she started having any dreams, and she was so sorry she hadn't
come forward before, but, well, she didn't want to get in trouble, right?
No one could blame her for that.

   She accepted her punishment as calmly as she could.  Sometimes when
Cyrus appeared for his twice-nightly fucks, she'd cling to him, and he
wouldn't disappear for a whole minute after he came.

   But it seemed to be working.  The social workers explained to her
parents that this might solve the biggest mystery and exonerate Mr. 
Anderson -- and Hannah's father too, though they didn't mention him
explicitly.

   --------------------------------------------------------

   "What's wrong, Tara?"

   "They seized all our computers."

   "What?"

   "We don't have any computers.  They seized them as part of the
investigation.  I guess we can get new ones."

   "Oh, shit."

   "What?"

   "Shit, shit, shit.  I forgot."

   "What's wrong?"

   "Damn!"

   "Tell me already, or I'll kick you in the balls!"

   "They'll go over the histories.  They'll be able to tell that you didn't
download the stuff until afterward, when you really did.  We're screwed."

   "Oh."

   "Sorry."

   "It's OK, you tried."

   "Well, thanks.  Some geek I am..."

   --------------------------------------------------------

   "Hannah's upset again, and she wouldn't say why."

   "But she did?" said Cyrus.

   "I was coaxing it out of her for half an hour this morning.  She finally
told me, but made me swear not to tell anyone."

   "And what did she say?"

   "I swore not to tell anyone."

   "Aw, c'mon."

   "I promised."

   "Tara, I'm gonna dream my dick is six feet long, and I'm gonna get it
all the way in.  I'm on your side, right?"

   Tara smiled.  "Of course I was gonna tell you.  Another guy came to her
in her dreams."

   "Oh great, just what she needs."

   "Yeah.  Her dreams about Mr.  Anderson are what started this whole mess,
and then when she dreamed about you, first I laugh at her, then she finds
you crying and me yelling at you.  So it was really hard to get her to say
who the new guy was.  And when she did, my heart sank.  Just the one person
we need least."

   "Who is it?"

   "Detective Barnes.  The guy who's just come in to oversee the
investigation."

   Cyrus thought for a moment, then he thought some more.

   "What?  Why are you smiling?"

   "I have a hunch.  I think this might be good news, not bad news."

   "Tell me!"

   "Give me a while.  I want to talk to Mr.  Anderson."

   He reached Kate's father on his cell phone during lunch period.

   When he hung up and found Tara, he was grinning broadly.

   "Our problems are solved.  Tell your parents that Hannah has something
important to tell Detective Barnes.  Something that can't wait.  She has to
tell him right after school -- just him and nobody else.  Before they do
more work with your computers."

   "Why?  What do we want her to say now?"

   "She has to just tell the truth this time."

   "Why?  Are you kidding?  And I promised not to tell!"

   "Well, then you can try to explain it to her yourself.  I think even a
five-year-old can get it."

   "OK, shoot."

   "Hannah has the dreams because the guy is having the same dream, right?
Mr.  Anderson actually dreams of having sex with your little sister every
night, right?"

   "Right."

   "And so do I, right?"

   "Don't remind me, pervert," she said.

   "So the detective is too, right?  He's having a very naughty dream.  Has
it happened more than once?"

   "Twice last night and twice the night before, according to Hannah."

   "Even better!"

   "But the detective hasn't ever been alone with her.  No one could say he
abused her."

   "That doesn't matter.  What matters is that he knows he's had the
dreams. He doesn't know why, but he knows he's had them.  And he's probably
had them because he's attracted to little girls, and he probably knows he
is.  And this little girl who can tap his dreams is going to make him
nervous.  Very nervous.  The last thing he wants is for anyone he works
with to suspect he might be attracted to young girls.  Don't you see?"

   "Huh." She was silent a moment.  "I guess, but I'm not sure Hannah will.
She's not going to get these layers of who might think something about
somebody else."

   Cyrus bowed his head for a moment.  "Put it to her like this: No one
believes what she's saying about Mr.  Anderson is just a dream.  But if
it's a dream with Detective Barnes, then he'll know it's just a dream so
he'll believe her."

   "Yeah, OK, maybe.  She might get that.  Are you sure this is gonna
work?"

   "Pretty sure.  But Mr.  Anderson was really enthusiastic, and I think he
knows a lot more than we do about grown-ups and reputations and all."

   --------------------------------------------------------

   The Andersons' computers were returned promptly, and the investigation
closed.  No restrictions were placed on Mr.  Anderson or Hannah and Tara's
father, and the records of the incident were sealed.  Tara's parents
softened their disapproval of her sex education session with Hannah when
they saw the role it played in getting the authorities off of their backs.

   Hannah's first visit at Kate's house was watched closely by the two
mothers.  They both held their breaths when Kate's father walked in.

   "Hello, Hannah," he said softly.

   "Hi, Mr.  Anderson," she said.  "I'm sorry about my dreams."

   "That's OK, Hannah, no one's responsible for their dreams."

   "Can you read us a story?" she asked.

   "Yeah, can you?" said Kate.

   "OK," he said, and sat on the sofa.  Kate scrambled up beside him, and
Hannah headed for the other side.

   "Why don't you sit over on the other side of Kate?" he suggested.

   "I can't see that way."

   "You can stretch, right?"

   "I guess," she muttered.

   "I've got an idea," said Kate's mother.  "Why doesn't Kate hold the
book, so you can both stretch just a little."

   "Good idea," said Mr.  Anderson, relieved.

   And so began the back-and-forth visits again, much like the old ones --
but with more reserve, everyone watchful.  Every glance, every little
touch, everything was scrutinized silently by the grown-ups -- and by the
girls to, to a lesser extent.

   --------------------------------------------------------

   Tara listened to the conversation in the living room.

   "You play the little girl and I'll play the social worker," said Hannah.

   "I want to be the social worker!" said Kate.

   "No, me!"

   "Me!"

   "ME!" shouted Hannah.

   "OK," said Kate, looking at her warily.

   "How long have you been having these so-called 'dreams'?"

   "Um, two weeks?"

   "Good, good.  And did that man touch you on the chest?"

   "I don't know."

   "Say, 'Only in my dream.'"

   "Only in my dream."

   "And did he kiss you on the lips?"

   "Huh?"

   "Say 'Only in my dream'.  You always say, 'Only in my dream.'"

   "OK.  'Only in my dream'."

   "Did he touch your legs?"

   "Only in my dream."

   "How about your chest?"

   "Only in my dream.  You already asked that."

   "Never mind, I'm asking it again."

   "Did he put his hand up under your dress?"

   "Only in my dream."

   "Did he touch you between the legs?"

   "Only in my dream."

   "Did he try to pull up your dress so he could see between your legs?"

   "This is getting boring."

   "Answer the question."

   "Only in my dream.  This is dumb."

   "How about his body.  Did he show you any part of himself you don't
usually see?"

   "This is so boring.  I don't want to do this any more."

   "But we're just getting started!  Take a little break if you want, then
we'll take up right where we left off, OK?" said Hannah sternly.

   "All right," groaned Kate.

   Hannah burst into laughter, followed a little later by Kate.

   "Now can we play horses?"

   "OK," said Hannah cheerfully.

   --------------------------------------------------------

   Cyrus's encounters with his three dream lovers were all quite distinct.

   With Melanie it was entirely lust.  Sure, they liked and respected each
other, but it was the animal drive for sexual satisfaction that moved them.
Did Melanie want more?  Maybe, he thought sometimes.  But he wasn't sure
what he wanted.

   With Tara, the landscape was more complicated.  Yes, they desired each
other sexually, but it was more the consummation of their emotional
relationship.  They had been through some emotional highs and lows as they
struggled to help Hannah.  Tara had eventually accepted his sexual dreams
with Hannah with a shrug.  They were just dreams, they all insisted, over
and over.  Tara was the only one of his three lovers who came during their
dream encounters -- over and over and over again.  And he sometimes mused
that it was no accident that he had appeared in Tara's dreams first --
before Melanie.

   With Hannah, once his desire for her had been triggered, he came to her
every night in their dreams, even though they might go months without
seeing each other in real life.  He had gradually resigned himself to
whatever it was that made him dream of sex with her.  He felt no such
attraction to her or any other little girl when he was awake.  In their
dreams, he and Hannah had quick sex -- sex he found sweet and pure and
satisfying in a way his two more mature dream lovers couldn't provide.  She
seemed to feel no sexual pleasure in the dream, though she felt no pain
either.  As far as he could tell, for her the experience would have been
similar to Cyrus wanting to poke his finger in and out of her mouth into
her cheek for thirty seconds each day.  It was neither humiliating nor
uplifting, just a strange thing this grown-up really wanted to do.  She
seemed proud and happy she could help him achieve such obvious pleasure
that way.  It seemed that her immunity to psychological harm within the
dream world was tied to the fact that he couldn't control his attempts to
possess her sexually -- and that it was after all just a dream world.  In
the physical world, her delicate private parts remained entirely private,
unsullied by even leering glances, let alone intimate rubbings of flesh on
flesh.  Once two nights had gone by without him appearing in his dreams,
and part of him hoped maybe the dreams would stop.  After they started
again, Tara reported with incredulity that Hannah told her she had missed
it!

   The various participants in dream-world sex had between one and seven
encounters each night.  Each was brief, each a dream, and each satisfied a
need for REM sleep along the way.  All the participants learned to keep it
a secret from the rest of the world -- even Hannah, once she got out of her
initial morass.

   They never heard of such a thing being reported elsewhere.  They had no
idea why it happened to them.  But it happened, and it wasn't all bad. 
Cyrus smiled.  Not bad at all.

   ===========================================================

   What did you think?  I'm always eager for comments, whether positive,
negative or mixed.  Comments to sterling27@live.com.
   

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