A better world 6
A better world 6: Take me in and dry the rain
**
In the dream, I was in the shower room at the rec center. I think it looked much the same as it did in real life - except for one very noticeable thing. In the dream, the walls of the room stretched out into . . . infinity? The walls of the large shower room, with their neutral, beige tiles and their rows of showerheads . . . just . . . kept going on and on - they stretched out and out, and I could not see the end of them.
Gunnar was there. Without much thought, I went to the shower next to him and turned it on. In real life, this was not something I would do. For one thing, I would've wanted to give both of us some privacy - well - as much privacy as you can have in a public shower room that doesn't have curtains or dividers between the showers. Anyway, I took off my towel, and then I stood under the spray of water.
I knew I was dreaming.
It felt real, of course, as dreams sometimes do. The water ran down, into my mane, and I could feel myself relaxing. Soon, my fur was soaking wet, and I turned this way and that, letting the spray ease my sore muscles. Next to me, Gunnar was doing the same. Neither of us spoke. Steam rose up and up around us, and the warmth of the water (and the steam) felt both soothing and invigorating. I took a few deep breaths - I breathed in, drawing in the heat and the steam, and then I breathed out - slowly, making it last, taking my time. I liked doing that - it was something new I was trying, inhaling and exhaling in the shower, taking in and letting out deep breaths. I didn't do it during the entire shower, of course, but I liked starting things off with it. Combined with the "healing" effects of water and steam, it really helped me relax.
So far, this was a fairly mundane dream. Some might say boring. Dreaming about taking a shower? A shower is an everyday, ordinary thing. (Especially because the rec center had a generator, which meant it had power, which meant I could - and did - take a shower whenever I wanted to.) Might as well dream about brushing your teeth, right?
The only reason this dream stood out as unique and different was because my friend Gunnar - a handsome Pit Bull - was showering next to me.
Handsome? I'd never . . . I'd never thought he was handsome. Or, I suppose, here's a better way to put it - I'd never noticed. I had to admit, glancing over at Gunnar -- I had to admit, he _was _handsome.
As I grabbed the bottle of shampoo, intending to start lathering up my fur, Gunnar turned his back to me.
"Can you get that spot of paint on my back?" he asked.
Another obvious sign I was dreaming.
That was most certainly not something Gunnar - in real life - would ask. Not because he's straight and I'm gay. And not because our friendship wasn't really that close. I just feel like . . . Gunnar's the kind of anthro who wouldn't ask for that kind of help. I could've been wrong, but - in my opinion - no matter how "unreachable" a spot of paint might be, Gunnar would find a way to get it off himself. No matter how he had to twist and turn, even if he dislocated his shoulder doing so, he would've gotten paint off his own back. In my opinion.
But, dreams have their own logic. Their own emotions. Besides, this was Dream Gunnar, not Real Life Gunnar.
I got some shampoo in my hands and reached out. I started just above his butt (which I only glanced at briefly). I began washing the Pit Bull's fur, going upwards from his lower back. It was easy work, his dark gray fur being so short. I rubbed in the shampoo. Where his muscles felt tense, I massaged his back, hoping it would help. I found - and cleaned up - the small spot of paint, fairly easily. His back was wide, and sturdy. I noticed that Gunnar wasn't using any shampoo himself - he was simply standing there, as I washed his back.
I found more tension in the spot right between his shoulder blades. I pressed it, gently, massaging it, easing some shampoo into the fur. Gunnar shivered, and said something I didn't catch.
"Sorry," I said. "Should I stop?"
"Don't be sorry. And don't stop. Feels good," Gunnar said, softly.
So, I rubbed that spot, between his big shoulder blades, and I could feel him relaxing. His body sort of sagged, a bit, as he stood there with the water running down his front, and me - behind him - standing so close to him, easing the tension in his back. I got some more shampoo, which I worked into the fur on his neck, and then into the fur on his wide shoulders.
And then Gunnar turned around, and moved in closer to me. For a second, a part of me - from somewhere far away, the rational part of me that knew I was dreaming - wondered if this would be a sex dream. It didn't make sense. I didn't see Gunnar that way, even though I'd just noticed (for the first time, apparently) how handsome he was. But, no, this wasn't a sex dream. It _was _kind of erotic, because we were both naked, and because - I'll admit - I'd enjoyed how it felt, having my hands on his fur . . . but . . . this wasn't a sex dream.
"I have to tell you something," Gunnar said. "It's a message."
I just stood there, clutching the bottle of shampoo. I looked into his eyes, and saw . . . compassion? Something like that. It was the kind of look you give someone when you're trying to help them. In real life, Gunnar was always so guarded. His eyes didn't give much away. But here, in this dream, which my sleeping mind had somehow cooked up, Gunnar wasn't hiding anything from me.
"There's a storm coming," he said, quietly. "And I know you're worried about Marcus. You should be. He won't take it very seriously - not at first, anyway."
Briefly, I thought about the young Rottweiler. Marcus. Had I been worried about him? I suppose I had.
"Thing is," Gunnar stepped back a pace, so that he could rinse the shampoo off his back. "Marcus is going to be okay. I think Marcus might be the only one who will be okay."
Because he'd stepped back, putting some space between us, I was able to see the front side of his body. Quickly, I noticed how large his biceps were, how wide his chest was. I noticed the amazing width of his penis.
I dropped the shampoo, and I knelt down to pick it up. When I stood, Gunnar was gone.
**
And then I woke up, dizzy and uncertain. I had somehow rolled off the blanket, on to the grass. Hunter and I were sleeping outdoors. It was early September, and the weather had been unusually hot. A few feet away, Hunter - the big, feral Bullmastiff - stirred and twitched, and opened his eyes, possibly wondering why I was on the grass. He looked at me, for a second, then went back to sleep.
Looking up, I realized I could see all the stars. The night was cloudless and serene, My dizziness passed, my uncertainty passed.
I wondered if a storm really was coming. On a night like this, it just didn't seem possible.
I moved my blanket and pillow closer to Hunter, then I stretched out and got comfortable. Soon, both of us were sleeping soundly. I had no more dreams that night.