Dreamlanded by Vera Chase

DREAMLANDED
By Vêra Chase

"What do we know about fly politics?"
Brundlefly (Cronenberg's The Fly)

reamlanded one moment, awakened the next-being raised two feet above the bed brought instantaneous awareness. But there was more to it, much more: The vision. Staring in the direction of the ceiling the vision was sharp enough to atomize darkness. The flesh. No fat, just muscle, the flesh was stone-solid. The skin. Not soft and porous, but hide-thick, protecting all its flesh like armor. And beneath the crust, a fast-pulsing beat injected with power. Those seconds are not to be forgotten as long as this perfect memory keeps functioning. The few seconds of the otherwise unremarkable night when I turned into a ... a green, diamond-eyed... resting on its wings... I will never forget how...
I turned into a dragon..
It was so sudden-no warning, no flashing lights. The perceptions were too real-my perfect sight could not betray me-I didn't doubt the event for a moment. It was all there: the scales, the claws, the tail, the green.
I exhaled in surprise and the night brightened in the flames that spat out of my nostrils. The flames flared hot, my blood felt cold, but I still knew I had a heart. I felt it clearly; safely nestled inside my rib cage I heard it pumping. The blood was cooling it-I could hardly recall my passions-the muscle grew lukewarm but not yet frozen; one chamber lost-the damage yet to be discovered, and one of the remaining three invaded by fear borne from the shock of such a sudden change and even thriving, fuelled by an unspeakable tormenting loneliness. As if my new body was a capsule out of which I could watch-but nothing more-the outside world, my beloved world, to which my cell was invisible.
I needed to shake off that horrible feeling of isolation, hard and heavy like my flesh, so I turned my head toward you to confide in you and receive words of consolation; I knew you would quickly overcome your fear-your heart would help you. But my breath proved itself lethal: a fly moving in its direction dropped limp like a pebble onto my bedside table. At least to hold your hand then, I thought, but as I was stretching, I saw my claws were too coarse to caress, I couldn't hold your hand without tearing it.
All this power, and still, as if paralyzed, I Iay next to you immobile, a whirlpool in my head: memories, power surges, cold thoughts and warm thoughts, before and after, your fragile body-my solid encasement. Can dragons love and for how long? What governs their instinct? Can they be trusted?.. by people? Not much is known about the dragon mind-not many believe in dragons after all. I didn't.
But more questions kept flooding my mind: Could there be more of us? Or at least one...and if so then where? That was hope speaking up, for the first time since that moment, in a clear bright tone, and it made me shudder. I needed to look at you again, to restore order, reassure my priorities, but somehow I couldn't do it for long. Soon I had to turn back and then I just gazed sternly at the wild dance of particles constituting darkness.
Lying there peacefully-unable to touch, to speak, to share but still able to distance myself enough to seize the picture: as you sleep, there is at your side, loving yet dangerous, a dragon in your bed.