Only When Lucid: The Lucid Dreaming Series, Part 1 (Prologue)

Sit back, relax, and buckle your seat belt for a love story that transcends time, space, logic, and even death. A love that only exists when both parties are lucid...

Inspiration For This Story…

 

Where Beyoncé, Taylor Swift, and Lucid Dreams Meet

 

 

I recently had a lucid dream. In this dream, I had a writing/recording session with Beyoncé. I didn’t see her face, but somehow I knew it was her. I was sitting across from her, and we both had our writing pads out because we were trying to write lyrics for a song. I was experiencing writer’s block, and I remembered saying in the dream that “I’m a novelist, and I’ve never had this problem before.” Consequently, someone else in the dream reassured me that everything was going to be okay.

Beyoncé, however, was in the zone. She basically wrote the entire song. I even recall her having this device that played melodies and beats. She was pushing buttons on this device"sifting through different melodies and beats we could use. We definitely finished the song, because in the dream I heard the song being played. I will share what I remember of it below!

After my recording session with Beyoncé, I met up with Taylor Swift. I shared with her how ecstatic I was about writing/recording with Beyoncé. I mean…it’s Beyoncé! Come on! However, she is Taylor Swift…so nevermind. Nevertheless, after sharing my news with Taylor, we went shopping for jeans. (Yes, in the dream, Taylor Swift and I are on a first name bases and we shop together!) I don’t know if it was to celebrate or not. After we finished shopping, we went ice-skating. This was the point in the dream where I woke up.

I keep my writing pad near me when I sleep, just in case inspiration or an idea comes to me in the middle of the night. That night, I grabbed it"still half asleep, and started writing down what I could remember of the song. Please find me and Beyoncé’s collaboration below! ;-)

Sky Fall

Sky fall, sky fall, sky fall, sky blast

Is this, Is this, Is this love gonna last

I can tell by the look in your eyes that it’s coming down

All around

In between us

Everything will change

And nothing will be the same

I can hear it in your voice

I can see it in your face

The space has taken you away

To another place

Another time

Different from mine

I can’t reach you

I can’t find what was mine

Take me with you.

 

I hope you had a hearty laugh because I sure did. I’m not a musician, and I’ve never written a song before. To me, however, it reads more like a poem. I’ve never written one of those either. Lastly, I know that sometimes what you think about, listen to, or watch can find its way into your dreams. However, on this particular night, I watched a few episodes of The Office. I love Dwight, and I love beets! I also listened to Coldplay’s Sky Full of Stars on repeat. Maybe that had something to do with it! ;-)

Nevertheless, please feel free to leave a review and share your experiences with lucid dreaming! Thank you for your time and support! Happy reading!

 

Sincerely,

Demetria S. Patton

 

 PART ONE

 

Prologue

 

My name is Mrs. Charles Levingston II. I know--what a boring way to begin a story. You probably want to stop reading right now, but don’t--just bear with me. I believe every introduction starts with a name. And when my name is spoken, everyone knows exactly who I am and who I belong to. I’m the wife of Charles Levingston II--the wealthiest, youngest, and arguably, the most handsome hedge fund manager in New York City.

However, it’s imperative that you know that I haven’t always been identified by someone else’s name. I often have to remind myself of this fact as well. I was born Seraphina Bradshaw, but no one knows who that person is. Hell, I don’t even know who that person is anymore. At one point I did, I suppose. But there isn’t room for her. She was pushed out a long time ago to make room for Charles. He is my world, and I don’t mean in that hopeless romantic, sappy kind of way. You know"he completes me, he is my everything, he is the air I breathe and yada yada yada. No, Charles is literally my world. Everything he wants, I want. Everything he likes, I like. I follow wherever he leads. I am his clone--his shadow. And to be honest, I don’t know who I am apart from him.

We’ve been married for ten years, and being his wife didn’t always feel like an agreement, a role to play, or make me feel like I had to choose him over myself. There was a time when I was a free thinking independent person who knew where I was going and what I wanted out of life. I think that’s one of the reasons Charles fell in love with me. There was a time when he was my world in that hopeless romantic, sappy kind of way. Back when I used to affectionately call him Charlie and his blue eyes--that looked like mini replicas of a sapphire, made me weak in the knees. I lost myself in them. It was during those times of looking into his eyes that I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was the person God created for me to walk through life with. We were one"I in him and he in me.

Now, I’m not so sure. The confidence that I once had in our relationship disappeared when the man I loved disappeared. When we moved back into the city after his father summoned him home to run the family business. When he demanded that I stop calling him Charlie because it sounded like a hick name. When he became Charles Levingston II"CEO of the billion-dollar hedge fund founded by his father--Levingston Capital Management. When I was forced to become Mrs. Charles Levingston II in order to save our marriage.

Tonight, I’m dutifully fulfilling my role as Mrs. Charles Levingston II. It’s an important night for Charles and I. We are the premiere guests at the in the red celebration that the company throws each year. Every year, the company rents out Georgiano’s, and every year Charles instructs me to be on my best behavior. The preceding wouldn’t be difficult if we didn’t have to sit with his parents"the original Mr. and Mrs. Charles Levingston.

“How are you Seraphina?” Charles’s mother, Ruth, asks me with a look of disgust on her face. Even after all of these years, she still looks at me like I’m a roach she can’t seem to kill.

“I’m fine Ruth. Thank you,” I say, cutting my eyes at the clock on the wall. We have only been at the table for five minutes, and I’m already eager to leave. “How are you?”

“Oh how proper are we,” she says, smiling. “Charles have you been working with her? Have you been helping her with her pronunciation and grammar?”

“Mother, please not tonight.”

“What? I didn’t mean anything by it. You sound lovely dear, but to answer your question: I’m doing as well as can be expected given the circumstances we find ourselves in.”

 When are you going to just get the f**k over it? I want to ask her. It’s been ten years, and yes I know you didn’t want him to marry me--everyone knows. But guess what, he did. Can we move past it? I want to ask her these questions, but I know what the answers will be. Never.  And no…we cannot. Those have been her answers each time I’ve asked her those questions over the years. I now know it’s pointless to ask"even one more time, especially since it’s obvious that nothing has changed.

 “I’m glad you’re doing well,” I say, quickly breaking eye contact and looking around the restaurant at Levingston Capital’s senior executives and their families. Seeing their wives and children at each table makes me smile. My prayer of Charles and I escaping his mother and father at decent hour seems like it will be answered this year.

 “Are you all ready to order,” asks, a waiter dressed in all black and carrying a small notepad.

Charles and I simultaneously look at his mother and father"signifying that they can order first.

“We will both have the lamb,” Charles’s father says, slowly looking at the menu. “The roasted potatoes and baby carrots.”

“Excellent choice Mr. Levingston sir,” the waiter says, collecting his menu. “The lamb is absolutely superb.” Charles’s father simply nods his head without speaking a word. The waiter turns to Charles and smiles. “What may I get for you sir?”

“I’ll have the steak"medium rare with broccoli and mash potatoes.

“Great selection sir. And for you Mrs. Levingston.”

“May I have the"”

“Charles Francis Levingston II where are your manners? You’re not going to order for her?”

“Mother, Sera prefers to order for herself.” Ruth stares at Charles"refusing to accept his explanation. “Honey would you like me to place your order for you?” Charles asks, with a smile on his face.

Just say yes Sera. If you don’t, it’ll be more trouble than it’s worth. Charles asked you to be on your best behavior tonight. Just say yes.

“That’s so sweet of you honey,” I say, looking into his eyes and running my fingers through his thick blond hair. “It’s okay sweetheart. I think I know what I want. Thank you.” I turn my head back toward the menu"catching a glimpse of Ruth’s face"her eyes wide and her mouth agape. “May I have,” I continue, “the"”

Ruth reaches across the table and slaps the menu down. “I insist.” She takes the menu from my hand, closes it, and hands it back to the waiter. “It really is better if he orders for you dear. I mean this isn’t a place that sells peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or grilled cheese. You really won’t know what to order.”

I look at her and smile. “You’re absolutely right. What was I thinking? However,” I say, looking at the waiter and holding my hand out toward him, “I’m going to give it the good ole college try.”

“Of course ma’am,” the waiter says, places the menu into my hand--trying hard not to crack a smile.

“Thank you.”

“This is ridiculous,” Charles’s father says as he leans forward into the table. “The only reason we tolerate your marriage to this woman is because you promised us you would train her.”

“Train me,” I say, looking at Charles. “And here I thought I was doing you all a favor.  You know putting an end to all of that inbreeding. What did you tell me honey, you were going to marry your first cousin Beatrice, right?”

“Believe me, we would have ran the risk of having retarded grandkids over you being his wife any day,” Ruth snaps.

“Nice.” I toss the menu onto the table and scoot my chair backward. “If you will excuse me.”

I stand to my feet and walk as quickly as I can toward the patio--smiling at the onlookers as Mrs. Charles Levingston is supposed to when she is on the clock. When I make it out onto the enclosed patio overlooking the city, I grab the railing tightly--squeezing it tighter and tighter. I close my eyes and inhale the hot muggy air into my mouth and exhale it on the count of three.

“What the hell Sera,” Charles calls behind me, interrupting my attempt to calm myself down.

I open my eyes, release the railing, and turn around to face him. “I know this is going to sound very childish, but she started it first.”

“D****t Sera. You’re supposed to be the bigger person.”

“With all due respect, no matter how hard I try or how much I eat, your mother will always be the bigger person.”

“You think this is funny?”

“I do Charles,” I say, turning away from him and looking down at the city below. “After all of these years, I think it’s hilarious. I guess you didn’t train me well enough, huh?” I look back at him over my shoulder.

“Sera,” he says, walking behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and burying his head into my neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” I ask, removing his hands from me and walking to the other side of the patio. “Well,” I say, looking at him after he doesn’t respond.

“I never said those words. I never said I would train you. Those were mother’s words"her demands and I agreed to them.”

“Of course you did,” I say, shaking my head and turning away from him.

“Sera. Sera look at me.”

“No,” I say, coldly.

“Sera.” Charles’s dress shoes click on the patio’s concrete floor as if he’s tap dancing. “Sera.” His arms are around my waist again. “Just let me explain.”

“Fine,” I say, turning around to face him. “Just don’t touch me while you’re doing it.”

“Okay.” Charles removes his hands from my waist and takes a step backward. “When they called me back home to run the business mother and father had conditions. They wanted me to divorce you, and I refused. However, a few days later mother called me and told me there was a way for us to compromise. A way for us to meet in the middle.”

“Which was,” I say, prompting him to continue after he stops talking.

“If you were going to be my wife and be a reflection of me, my family, and the company you had to dress a certain way, talk a certain way, and act a certain way.”

“Of course, country bumpkin Sera wasn’t good enough. The story of my life.”

“You were good enough. You are good enough,” Charles says, taking a step toward me.

I hold my hands out in front of me and quickly move away from him. “Stay away from me Charles.” I had been married to Charles long enough to know that it only took one caress, one kiss, one I’m sorry as he looked at me with his blue eyes for all of this to be water under the bridge. But not tonight. Tonight he’s going to explain.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me the truth.”

“You knew when you met me that I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps. You knew one day I wanted to run the company. So when they gave me the chance, I promised whatever I had to in order to get it.”

“So the stylists, designer clothes, five-hundred dollar hair cuts, spa treatments, and suggestions about improving my accent are all because of them?”

“What did you want me to do? I had already given up everything for you once. Did you want me to do that all over again? I had goals and dreams before I met you.”

“Indeed you did. And I’m sorry if I ever got in the way of that.”

“Sera, I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes you did, but it doesn’t matter now. People are starting to stare. I’m going back inside.” I walk to the threshold of the patio before looking back at Charles. “Don’t worry. I’ll make everything right with your mother. I’ll apologize. It’ll be my fault as usual.” I walk back into the restaurant and Charles follows closely behind me--grabbing my hand and interlocking it with his. His touch briefly stops me in my tracks.

“I’m sorry Sera,” he says, softly and apologetically in my ear. There’s no doubt in my mind that his words are sincere.

Instead of slapping him across the face for continuing to touch me after repeatedly telling him not to, I interlock my fingers with his. “It’s okay,” I say, knowing that I’m still Mrs. Charles Levingston II and that takes precedent--no matter how angry I am with Charles.

We walk back to the table hand-in-hand--smiling as if we’re the world’s most perfect couple and nothing is amiss. Charles pulls my seat out, and I sit down. His parents are already eating, and Charles’s order is on the table along with a plate of food that I did not order.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Charles’s father says, looking at me. “I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

“No, I don’t mind at all,” I say, feigning a smile. “This looks delicious. I always wanted to try snails.”

“Escargot,” he quickly corrects me. “It’s a delicacy.”

For whom? I want to ask.

“You’ll enjoy it,” he insists.

“Thank you. I’m sure I will. But before I do, I want to apologize to both of you. My behavior earlier was completely out of line and unacceptable.”

“It’s okay dear,” Ruth says smiling. “Charles told us all about the difficult upbringing you had in that foster home you were raised in. I’m sure that has something to do with it.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

Ruth smiles and all is right with the world again. I apologized for my behavior, but really the apology is for being the woman Charles’s parents never wanted him to marry. Nevertheless, not another word is spoken--at least not to me. Charles and his father immediately begin talking about investments. Similarly, at this juncture in the evening, Ruth and I are suppose to have girl talk"share the latest gossip, beauty tips, or the new creative ways we have found to spend our husband’s money. However, we don’t. We’re not friends. We’re not even cordial, and Ruth doesn’t want me to forget. She inserts herself into the conversation Charles and his father are having and I sit quietly"eating the snails as slowly as I can while trying not to throw up.

***

“I’m sorry about tonight,” Charles says, as we sit in the car outside of the restaurant. We’re the last car left in the parking lot. “You don’t deserve to be treated that way.”

I can feel Charles’s eyes upon me, but I don’t look at him or respond. I continue to sit in the passenger seat with my arms crossed--staring out of the window expressionless and unaffected by his words. I had heard the same words countless times before. It’s always I’m sorry and you don’t deserve that after his mother and father are disrespectful to me. And frankly, I’m tired of hearing the same meaningless, empty words. If he's so sorry he would put an end to it and confidently tell his mother and father that I’m his wife and they have to respect me.

Author's Note

Please feel free to leave a review! :-)

Reviews

[PANDORA]

This drew me in because I lucid dream. It is an amazing experience and I believe somewhere in the tapestry of the universe the experience is real. How can it not, when it is as real as I sit here listening to tunes and reading such engrossing stories?

You could clean this up a little. Cut out some fat..if you really wanted. However, still a great read. I look forward to more.

[Unpeeled_Banana]

Wow, this is amazing. I absolutely love this story. I could not take my eyes off the screen the whole time. I am eager to read more. Sera is very relatable--while she does surrender, she does not buckle under her circumstance without a bit of a fight. The dialogue is very realistic. Ruth and Charles I are very irritating, but not so much that it makes the story unreadable.

Very well done.

[D.S. Patton]

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I sincerely appreciate you taking time out of your schedule to read my writing and leave a review! I will definitely return the favor! :-)