One Dream Too Many the Second
Heya everyone!
For whatever reason I decided to write about a dream I had whilst I had the flu. It was not pleasant in the least, but it was quite moving, nonetheless. So I got the emotions out as best I can and, knowing my audience, spiced it up with some guy on guy action, because I know that that is the only way to get people to read and comment on this. As for the name, well...I have a hard time with titles, so there.
So, characters, aside from the feline mentioned in this story, are copyright to me. I wish for the other person to remain nameless and will merely say that he is copyright, well, himself. If you are not of age to read this, well...you shouldn't be reading this. I don't need any flack saying you were not warned.
Also, this being an almost word-for-word transliteration of my dream, I don't want people getting on my ass for the religious aspect of the story. It can likely be ignored, which is what I often do when I am in church. I am not religious, though I have been exposed to much of it which is likely what influenced this dream and story. I love comments, really I do, but not if it's getting on my ass about the religious content which, I should say again, was taken FROM A DREAM. Any errors in grammar or spelling, aside from my Canadian goofiness for you Americans out there, should be noted upon, as well as the general style of writing. T'would be much appreciated, I always appreciate critique, provided it's constructive.
Much love goes to my proofreader, Lucien, for fixing my verb tense issues, among other things. Go check him out if you can. :3
That said, hope you guys like the story. For those reading only for the sex, it's early on, so you don't have to scroll far.
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Had I known that it was to end this way I would not have taken for granted this God-given life.
Looking back on the sequence of events that led me to this day, I cannot say for certain that I have no regrets. I'd like to think that I do not, that all loose ends were tied neatly, that my life had enough of an impact on the lives of my loved ones. When you're on your deathbed, these thoughts surface, devastate you, wreak havoc on your sense of self and then recede deep into the depths of your mind, leaving you trembling, waiting for your time. I do not know if I angered Him in such a way as to deserve this Hell, but had I then all I can do is accept this punishment.
This life was a good one, though, I cannot deny that. Living, loving, being loved, gaining, losing, and all of the entangled emotions that accompany these things...It would be a lie to say that I would not miss it all. As I watch my life, my essence slip between my lips with each breath I take, the space left inside of me was instantly filled with worry. Did I do the best I could? Would my Maker be proud of me when, and if, I returned to his side? For that I deeply prayed almost every waking moment.
When I learned of my imminent end I accepted it as best as any mortal could, though admittedly not without a little kicking and screaming. At age nineteen what else could I do? The concept of death was something that had never even occurred to me despite the constant reminders in my life. How could it be my time? Forsaking everything, I left my old life behind, deciding to make the best out of what time I had left.
Striking out on your own is difficult enough without being ill, though I did what I could. I moved to a new town far away from my birthplace, and worked as an itinerant hand on a farm. The Steam Revolution was not yet in full swing, and there was a need for manual labourers. Though my heart was in it, seeing the fruits of my labour accumulate and being put to use, my failing health could not keep up with my enthusiasm. Though I had found what I consider my calling, it brought only the vaguest feelings of solace to my soul.
While I was still able to work, a new worker joined our numbers. I was friends with everyone on the farm, the old mole couple who owned the establishment, the two equine brothers who did most of the heavy work, an ox who pulled the ploughs and the mouse who acted to sell our products, to name a few. This new person, at first, did not seem nearly as friendly as the other workers, but he was pleasant enough once I got to know him.
His name was...well, his name in unimportant. Two years my junior, he was eighteen at the time, while I was twenty, and despite him being a feline and me being a bat, we got along famously. He ran away from home, wishing to start fresh much like myself. I had to admit, he had a lot of pluck to attempt to live on his own, though now that I think about it he and I were quite similar in that regard. It wasn't a matter of what we could or couldn't do, but what we felt we had to do. Chalk it up to Divine Providence, some cosmic or celestial fate, karma, but I felt as though we were meant to meet.
And fall in love. The love I felt for him was so intense, it reinvigorated me more than any medicine ever could. I helped make meals with the old couple, cleaned up afterward and spoke jovially with my comrades. It was a wonderful scene of the ideal patchwork family, an image I hold in my heart as I lay here dying. Every night I look back fondly on those days, even though it was only eight months ago.
Though I was in high spirits, my body continued to fail on me. My lungs seized up, refused to work numerous times a day. Even menial tasks became as difficult as climbing the tallest mountains. When no one was looking I would cough, blood spattering my paw. It figured, just as soon as I was becoming accustomed to the idea of dying, I had to find the most profound reason to want to live. It felt as though I was the butt of a cruel God's joke, but then I supposed everyone felt that way sometimes. Stoic, I came to accept that my final days were to be some of the happiest I'd ever have.
He and I became lovers quickly. We felt comfort in each other's arms, a feeling that both of us had been sorely lacking since we left the towns of our birth. Still, what I may consider my only regret, was that I did not tell him that I was dying, just as I had kept it a secret from everyone else on the farm, aside from that ox boy. I fear he will hold it against me that I did not ay anything to him about my health. Oh compassionate God, please, let him not be angry with me...
One night while working in the barn with Dario, the ox I mentioned, I told him my story. Everyone on the farm knew the stories behind everyone else, and why they had decided to work here. My partner and I were the only real enigmas, and we both went out of our ways to make sure that things stayed that way, so Dario was quite surprised when I broke down and told him about my illness.
At least, that's what I wish had happened. After collapsing whilst working with him in the barn and being carried back to his room, I had no choice but to tell him everything. Of course I made him swear never to breathe a word to another soul about what I was to tell him that night, at least not until I had been returned to the earth. Curled up in his large bed I told him about my illness, how I had left home and how I sought to forge a new life in the dying embers of my existence.
Dario, being one of the more mature of the lot and probably more understanding than the old couple, nodded in agreement, but not without voicing his opinion. What kind of person kept their lover in the dark about the impending end of their relationship? He kept driving this point home, and I, tears rolling down my cheeks, blood crusted at the corner of my mouth, would tell him that my partner would understand, wanting only a modicum of normalcy in our lives. Yes, he would be sad, but then, who wouldn't be? I'm sad that things have to be this way, but both he and I are making the best of our given situations.
In the end Dario had to give in. He saw my logic, and although he may not have agreed with it he had to give credit to the will of a dying man, even if he believed him to be foolish. I probably was, but I was allowed to be, right? I was still young, and were I leading a normal life I would have had many years to learn from my mistakes. Now I would never know if my actions would turn out to be mistakes or all for the best. All I could do was what I felt was right at the time, and do what I could to make both my partner and I happy. I knew, in my final days, I would be the only ray of light to those around me. On my deathbed I would pass the torch to him, and somehow I knew things would work out alright.
Still, our lives together on the farm was almost perfect. We made love almost nightly, passionately, tenderly. I often cursed that our souls had bodies to separate them, more than I cursed this body that was falling apart. I almost forgot that I would soon join my ancestors in death, until one night he and I were working through our nightly routine.
He took my paw softly, stroking it as he led me to our room. I swooned, ever the romantic, loving how he treated me like a delicate rose. The room dimly lit by candlelight, he laid me down on our bed, trailing kisses from my ear down to my collarbone. I trembled as his muzzle brushed against my fur, his paws sliding up under my shirt like two ghosts. My erection grew in response to his ministrations, clearly visible, my trousers tenting at my crotch.
I squeaked and blushed as he lifted my shirt up over my head, careful of my wings. I made to hide myself from him, still embarrassed showing myself to another in such a way, but he took my paw in his own and brought it to his muzzle, kissing it softly. Every time he would have to reassure me in such a manner, and I, like the lovestruck fool I was, was always comforted by this. He then placed my paw on his cheek, his eyes closing as he stroked it like he would stroke a loving pet, and he sat down on the edge of the bed, only inches away from my thigh.
Slowly I pulled his face closer to mine, my other paw joining the first as our lips came within close proximity. Bending over me, he kissed me softly at first, then more deeply as his free paw trailed down my chest teasingly, to rest on my stomach. We mashed our tongues together, our breathing becoming hotter, heavier as the moment wore on. It was these glimpses of Heaven with him that I knew I would miss most, but rather than think about such morbid things, I wanted to fully experience this time with him for however long I could.
After a few moments he pulled away from me, our breathing ragged. I could tell his muscles had not received enough oxygen to maintain his position as he was trembling, but still his muzzle was plastered with a smile, the warmest I had, or ever would have seen. We stared into each other's eyes, reveling in the moment, his paw moving to stroke my cheek. My breath caught in my throat, and quickly I sat up, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close, hiding any sign of distress I might have shown.
I tasted blood, and any movement in my torso, every shallow breath I took caused immense pain. Tears began to well up in the corners of my eyes, tears which I am glad he did not see. He held me tightly, stroking my hair as he kissed my ear, and I in turn buried my muzzle in the crook of his neck, nuzzling softly. I lost almost all of my strength in his arms, be it from the pain or because of him I still do not know.
He laid me back down on the bed, telling me not to relax. Dextrously, he removed his clothes, tossing them into the corner of the room, causing the candlelight on the nearby table to flicker. He stood before me, adorable, attractive, a lithe figure attributed mostly to females and hardly what anyone would call farm hand material. I loved all of that about him, though, and wouldn't change him for the world. His erection stood at attention as he looked down on me, and I was suddenly more conscious of my appearance.
I closed my eyes as he knelt beside the bed and, resting his cheek on my stomach, began to undo my pants. Soon they were flying across the room to join his clothes in a heap, and he joined me in bed, laying next to me, his paws exploring my body. It was wonderful to be with another like this. I hoped that this was what my afterlife would be like, feeling loved eternally next to him.
He whispered sweet nothings in my ears, causing them to turn a bright shade of red. I reciprocated, reminded him of how much I loved him, resting my paws on his chest. We let our paws meander each other's bodies, shivering and moaning all the while, inching closer to one another. His paw would rest on my thigh, while mine would play with his nipples, something I knew he enjoyed. Our erections bumped against one another, leaking precum in our excitement.
Soon after we could wait no longer, and he pulled me to my knees, hunching over me to kiss my neck. His muzzle slowly trailed down my back, between my shoulder blades, along my spine to rest in the small of my back. Nipping softly, eliciting a squeak of pleasure, he stroked my rear, his claws slightly outstretched to tease the sensitive flesh. It took little time for me to start panting, looking back and begging with my eyes for him to take me. I was not sure my body could hold out this time, but I would certainly try to hold myself together.
Our members were slick with pre, and as he positioned himself behind me, ready to insert his seven inches of meat into me, he reached around to my member, stroking slowly. My precum began to drip more earnestly, and he caught what he could of it on his paw, glancing at my facial expressions whenever I stifled a moan. When his paw left my member I sighed, resting my cheek on my arms, relaxing myself for what I knew was coming.
Gingerly he spread both his and my precum on his cock, lubricating it thoroughly. I closed my eyes, steadying my breathing as he pressed the tip of his head against my anus, causing me to gasp quietly. As he grasped my hips, he began to push against my rear, meeting much resistance. Whimpering, I pushed back against him, biting my lip as his head popped inside of me. I thought I would get used to the feeling of being penetrated this way after the many months we had been making love, but it always took me by surprise when he would unexpectedly slip inside my ass.
We both sighed, becoming accustomed to the pressure we were feeling. I did not want to move anymore if I could help it, however. I could feel the blood rising up in my throat in the position I was in, and I knew soon I would be spluttering like a fool. For the first time in ages I wanted this to be over as quickly as possible for fear of being discovered.
Slowly he began to move inside of me, his member diving ever so deeper with each of his minute thrusts. My muscles clenched down somewhat uncomfortably at first around him, but quickly that discomfort turned to sheer pleasure as he hilted me, his testicles resting comfortably in the crevice of my rear. His right paw once again moved from my hip to my member, and as he began to pull himself out of me he stroked my length, his grip firm.
I coughed, quickly hiding it inside of a moan as he pushed himself back into my behind, a fresh dollop of my precum falling to the bedsheets beneath us. Burying my muzzle in the crook of my elbow I breathed as deeply as I dared, the fur matted down with a combination of blood and saliva. His thrusting became more aggressive, his ministrations to my cock faster. Through the haze in my head from a lack of oxygen I was still able to feel the pleasure, mixed with the pain of being stretched.
The paw he had on my hip moved to my behind, squeezing softly. I dared not look back, but I could feel and hear the slapping of furred skin on furred skin, accompanied by a somewhat wet sound that I could only assume was our drying natural lubricant on his member. It bothered me little though, the increasing friction. Rather, it added a new dimension of pleasure, as was evident by my moaning loudly into my arm. Rocking my hips in time with him, I arched my back into the bed. As the act went on, his humping became erratic, his cock stimulating me in different places with every thrust.
It felt as though pleasure was radiating from my nether regions throughout my body as my lover stroked me and pounded my ass. Clearly he was about to have an orgasm, and I knew that mine would follow shortly after. The crook of my elbow was now matted down more with blood than saliva, but I was certain I could hold out until the end. Spluttering, I let out a low, long moan, my eyes shut tight, rocking my hips in time with his.
With a gasp his orgasm splashed violently against my inner walls, his hips firmly pressed against my ass. His grip on my member tightened, causing me to buck harshly. I bit my lip, holding back the loud moan that threatened to escape my body and probably wake up half the house, as I came hard, my seed splattering the sheets, mixing with my pre. It was wonderful, in that moment all my pain had been lifted, the only thing on my mind being our coital bliss. I reveled in the feeling of being so thoroughly filled, not only by his member and seed but also his love, and in knowing that I filled him with a similar feeling.
The following moments, however, were not nearly as pleasurable. Halfway through riding out my orgasm, what felt like a hook caught in my chest, pulling at the base of my lungs almost as if it were trying to pull them inside out. Just as I had forgotten the suffering in my bliss, I had just as easily forgotten the bliss in my pain. My chest filled with what I could only describe as lava, all the forgotten discomfort rushing back into my body. My breath caught, and I collapsed on the bed beneath my lover, his member slipping out of me almost immediately.
I shut my mouth tightly, now only vaguely aware that he was in the room with me. As the world span violently around me, the colour bleeding out of the edges of my vision I grasped the sheets in my paws, making to seem as though I were still experiencing the rapture of our orgasm. This had never happened before, not whilst we made love...Was this a sign of what was to come? At the time, I sure as Hell hoped not, but knew better than to be hopeful.
It took several minutes to regain the ability to breathe properly. Breathing through my nose, the tinge of blood clung to every other smell in the room and made my nauseous. Without a word I steadied myself, pulling myself into a sitting position. His paws on my shoulder, he looked concerned, never having seen me do something like that before. I looked into his eyes, giving him my best pleading expression in the hopes that he would understand that I wanted him not to worry. Smiling weakly, lips shut tight, I stood up and walked out of the room as quickly as I dared, naked as the day I was born.
The cool night air was a blessing as it kissed my face tenderly, not unlike how my lover did. I made my way to the tree near the barn Dario and I tended to and proceeded to empty the contents of my mouth, followed by my stomach, onto the russet earth. I dared not look at first, though I knew from the taste what it would look like. After a moment I opened my eyes, a sea of red in pale moonlight before me. Again I felt nauseous and I swayed, a paw moving up to my forehead, brushing away my hair. A fever, just what I needed.
I took some time to ensure that my stomach had been properly vacated, then proceeded to the stream that ran through the property. Wasting no time I thrust my head into the chilling water, relishing the feeling of it as it danced through my hair. I took a few gulps, hoping to wash away any taste of blood in my mouth in case he were to kiss me again that night. As my head broke the water once more I took a deep breath, the slight breeze feeling that much cooler on my maw now. My chest ached, to be sure, but for whatever reason it felt as though I would be fine, at least for a little while. Gazing up at the moon I made a silent prayer to a God that, up until that night, I had scorned.
As I climbed wearily to my feet, I saw a water bucket just a little ways upstream. Thinking back on the mess I had left beneath the tree, I made my way toward it, filled it with water and started walking back to the tree. Yes, I had scorned God secretly in my prayers for making me suffer unjustly. However, I came to a realization that night; there was only a finite amount of happiness one could experience in their lives. My time on the farm easily surpassed anyone's lifetime of happiness, I believed. Be this frail body the fault of an unjust God or no, it was up to me to decide whether or not to accept it as a gift or a curse.
With a refreshed resolve I came around the corner of the barn, the tree now in view. However, beneath the tree a rather large silhouette sat, right next to my spilled blood, its faceless head turned in my direction as it heard me round the corner. I froze, almost dropping the bucket in my arms. The realization came to me in waves, first that it was not my lover, then that it was in fact only Dario. Heaving a sigh of relief, I closed the gap between us, sitting on the opposite side of the mess, and placed the bucket beside me.
Many silent moments were shared between us, as was often the case when we were to talk seriously about my health. Crickets chirped off in the distance, all at different pitches and all for different lengths of time. No, the world, nor anything that was in it, was not perfect. Why should I be angry at God for that? A deep solace began to take root in my soul that night as I sat with Dario, silently gazing up at the sky.
As I made to leave, he asked if I was alright, motioning to the large patch of red earth that I had forgotten. Smiling, I assured him that I was, and that I was merely trying a new type of fertilizer. At this Dario stared blankly at me, tilting his head. Then, he chuckled, getting to his feet as well. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to him and causing me to spill some of the water in my bucket. After a few moments he confided that he was glad, glad that I was feeling well enough to be up and about, as well as being able to joke about things. He made no attempt to sway my decision to say nothing of my illness to anyone, nor did he make any reference to the fact that I was still naked, for which I was quite glad.
We said our good nights as we parted, after pouring the water over my blood. It did little to help wash it away, but only Dario and I came to this tree, anyway. Rain would eventually come and wash it away, so I was not terribly concerned. He returned to his loft in the barn, and I followed the dim light in the kitchen window to the patio door of the house, only to be greeted by my partner. He embraced me tightly, and I returned in kind, my arms wrapping around his lower back. Like a good lover he asked if I was okay, to which I replied I was more than okay, and for the first time in quite a while I truly was.
Even so, as the days wore on my health continued to decline. My ability to work on the farm diminished until Dario was doing my entire share of work whilst I followed along behind him, apologizing all the while. I knew that it was because of my stubbornness to lead some semblance of a non-affected life that he had to pick up my slack. However, as he grunted along, doing both his work and mine, I did not once feel as though he blamed or resented me for it. In fact, the aura I felt off of him was similar to the one I felt I had about me, that this was how things were and had to be. We were resigned to our situations, be it good or bad, because they were, for the most part beyond our control.
To my lover I passed off my inability to make love with him as seasonal illness that those in my family were susceptible to. Of course I told this to everyone else, as well, so as not to arouse suspicion of any sort, and after helping with meals as best I could, returned to bed where my roommate would feed me some time later. Words cannot describe how grateful I was to him, and I expressed as much every waking moment. I added a small piece of thanksgiving to my prayers; that I had such a loving man in my life.
Days of this turned into weeks, then weeks into months. What others on the farm expected of me dwindled to nothing, though the old couple made no sign of letting me go. I hated the idea of being pampered so, but being unable to be out of bed for extended periods of time meant that, like everything else, I had to accept it. Everyone came to visit me once in a while, and we would talk about this and that. All the farm gossip was nice to hear, even though I soon began to feel as though I were not part of it. Apparently the mouse girl, whom everyone had been seeing less and less of, was getting married and soon would be leaving the farm altogether. I was told this not without a twinge in the pit of my stomach.
The last week of my life, it was so utterly painful to watch as life moved on around me. For long periods of time I was left alone in our room with nothing to do but stare out the window at the workers below or the birds above. It was either that or watch intently as the second hand of the large-faced clock on the opposite wall ticked my life away, and the prospect of that was far more depressing than that of dying itself. The clock truly looked like the eye of Father Time, ever glowering at me, as if daring me to waste just one more second of my measly life away having a staring contest with him. It did not take long for me to ask my lover to remove it from the wall.
One night after a coughing fit woke my partner up in the middle of the night, he sat up in bed and opened the window a crack, a chilly early September breeze snaking its way into our room. With all the seriousness of a surgeon working on a fading soul he turned to me and asked what I had been hiding from him, tears welling up in his eyes. I began to tell him that it was nothing and that I would be better soon, but he cut me off by brushing fresh blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of his paw. I knew then that our time in paradise was over.
Before launching into my story of how I had come to the farm I warned him that the following days were not likely to be easy ones for either of us, nor anyone else on the farm. Without hearing it, though, he already seemed to have that idea in his head and merely nodded, showing his attention. Moonlight shining into our room and onto my legs and his face, I told him that my time here was almost up, and that I wanted only to spend what was left of it with him like nothing was ever going to happen. Apologizing profusely for keeping it from him, I asked for him to forgive me and to not leave my side, if it were at all possible.
Bless him for his reaction. He said not a word, tears streaming down his face, as they were mine. He closed the gap between our muzzles and kissed me softly, his lips saying more than any words that left them ever could. His paw on my cheek, he pulled away and lay back down on the mattress, facing the ceiling. Thinking him asleep I rolled over to look at him, hoping that if I were to gaze upon him long enough I would remember his face well into my next life, were I deemed fit to have one.
He was not asleep, but he just continued to look at the ceiling, as if trying to bore a hole into it with his eyes. Then, he looked over at me and smiled, weakly, his arm moving to cover my chest. I sighed softly, closing my eyes, apologizing once more. His paw wrapped around my shoulder and pulled me close as he apologized as well, saying he wished he had known, that he could have supported me more. Shaking my head I told him that it was alright, that the mere fact that he had been with me for the best part of my life was more than I could have hoped or asked for.
We embraced each other as we drifted off to sleep, promises for how the rest of our life together would be floating between our muzzles. Dawn found us neatly curled up in each other's arms, the new day awaiting us. He arose before I did, and silently made his way out of the room to prepare breakfast, leaving me to sleep and dream in our room. The window still open, the scent of fresh baking bread floated on a warm wind, caressing me as I slept.
The morning drew on, and soon he returned with some oatmeal and bread, and placed it on the table beside our bed. Softly he shook my shoulder to awaken me, only succeeding after doing so several times. With a grunt I turned my head toward him, my muscles feeling as though they had atrophied over night, or like some alchemist had come in and turned them to lead. I looked at him and the meal he had so graciously prepared for me, and closed my eyes once more, fully intending to enjoy it with him. Finding no energy to do so, my consciousness drifted, as if of its own will into a world of gray, into a frighteningly vivid dream.
In it, my lover, Dario and I sat beneath the tree, chatting happily about our chores, what had to be done, and what we were planning on doing with what little money we had saved up working there as we stared up at the deep blue sky. Clouds scudded past and birds darted here and there as Dario told us that he had wanted to start up his own business in town, though he was unsure of what he would sell. We suggested that he sold what we produced here, and poked him the ribs for even having to think about it.
My partner and I, on the other hand, planned on buying a plot of land from the old couple, preferably near the stream, and building a small place to live of our own. We would work the land until we could no longer, and we would truly be living under our own power. Yes, we would be working for the old couple still, but anywhere we went we would have to work for someone. Might as well be these nice folks.
The sun rose higher in the sky, and as we were about to leave and work on our respective tasks, a robed man approached us, which I found odd given the temperature. Dressed in silver, he kept his face hidden from us, a scraggly beard just barely visible beneath his hood, only offering an old, wizened paw to me. I pondered this, but for whatever reason I took it in my own, and as I followed him away I called out to my coworkers a quick farewell.
We continued to walk toward the stream, and when we reached it followed it downstream, where it would soon trail through a forest. The farm long behind us, I inquired as to where we were going, the footing beneath us becoming slightly more treacherous as we entered the woods. The robed figure shook his head, remaining silent, and continued to lead me along the stream. Despite being with a stranger like this, it was all so calming, I felt like I could drift off into a dream, like I could be laid down then and there and die blissfully in my sleep.
I stopped dead in my tracks, letting go of the man's paw. The sudden realization of what was happening dawning on me, I gasped raggedly, my legs trembling. I took a few steps back and tried to recall my partner's face, only vague outlines coming to mind even though I had seen him only moments before. The figure moved closer and placed his paw on my shoulder, firmly but comfortingly. His other paw moved to remove his hood, and I gazed up at what I could only take as the face of God, though it was heavily blotted out of my mind's eye by the sudden stream of light through the trees.
Immediately I fell to my knees, my head bowed, paws clamped together. I prayed the first piece of scripture which came to mind, which of course was the Lord's Prayer. Our Father, who art in heaven...and now here before me. Oh, please, I begged of Him, allow me to see my love one last time. Taking His paw from my shoulder I sobbed into it, my entire body wracking from distress. I had no qualms with going with Him, I said, so long as I could see him but once more.
Allowing myself to calm down, I squeezed His hand softly, then turned my gaze up toward the light. I saw Him nod after a moment, before everything was enveloped in that blinding light. Weightless, I lay basked in it, feeling as though I were floating in the general direction of something important, whilst at the same time away from something equally as important.
Without warning I was back in my bed, my eyelids opening for what felt like the first time in years, and like they had been replaced by sand paper. Everyone had gathered in the room and were looking at me, their eyes full of worry, some with tears matting the fur of their cheeks. Remembering my dream, I smiled as best I could for them all, the pain I had been suffering now non-existent. I saw my lover, smiling back at me right beside our table. The image filled my soul with such happiness, as I moved my paw ever so slowly toward the edge of the bed.
As he took my paw in his own, his grin grew wider, and he nodded. He let out a shattered purr, and I squeezed his paw as tight as I could whilst sweeping my eyes over the small gathering of friends one last time. I was sure that my love and Dario had explained everything to them, all that was left for me was to say my final farewell.
My gaze fell back on my partner's, and I nodded back, letting my grip on his paw loosen. I closed my eyes for the last time, feeling myself drift once again, this time into a world of light, pierced by His outstretched paw reaching toward me. With my final breath, before I took hold of His paw, I whispered, "...Thank you, everyone...Goodbye...I love each...and every...one of you..."