Date: Mon, 2 Jun 2014 00:25:18 -0700
From: Caden Anderson <handittome@live.com>
Subject: Sweet Dreams

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So I want to start off by saying that this whole story is based completely
off a dream I had.  I flushed out the details based on the context and
emotions of the dream to help convey a stronger picture and help you feel
exactly as I felt when I had this dream.  But I also need to warn you that
while this is a very genuine heartfelt story about the difficulties of love
between a man and a boy, there is no sex in this story.  If you want
something to move you, let you experience true love with a boy or just make
you think, then this is the story for you.  Hopefully some of you will be
able to enjoy it.  Good luck my fellow boy dreamers.


     It was me, and it was the boy.  That is all that mattered.  To one
another, the other was the world.  He was a wonder of gentle kindness, wild
spunk and pure genuine love.  The way he looked into my eyes, flashed his
heart melting smile, gently held my hand or sweetly laid his lips upon mine
more than proved that.  With him every moment was one worth dying for.
Whether playing a game, eating a snack, watching television or simply
sleeping, every second with him was worth more than a lifetime alone.

     The world though, somehow did not approve of what we had.  Either from
jealousy or lack of understanding it sought to destroy our love, fighting
tooth and nail to rip us apart.  In time the boy and I had found ourselves
running for our lives, or at least for the life we had together.  We had
only a moment's notice before they were upon us.  The cruel, the relentless
evil, the military was charging upon our door.  I had no time to grab
anything but his small hand and we ran.  Being only age eleven his small
legs tired before too long and I had to carry him in my arms.  Tears came
to his eyes, but not of fear.  He was sorry he had to burden me for his
feet could not carry him any further. I simply held him tight and reassured
him "It's ok baby. Don't worry about it.  We'll be there soon."  For days
we ran, desperately trying to escape a future of no life, no love, no
reason.  We had lost the military, but my mind wouldn't be at ease until we
reached safety.  And eventually we did.

     It was a small refuge for people like us. A safe house for men and
their young lovers.  We arrived and were kindly welcomed by another couple.
Without a single word exchanged they could tell by the look in my eyes and
the tired boy in my arms the struggle we had barely escaped.  They led us
to the kitchen to fix us some food.  My boy refused to leave my arms
clinging for his life, afraid of being ripped away at any moment.  I held
him tight as I spoon fed him some soup, warming his tired soul.  Once we
had eaten our fill we were lead to the shower to rid ourselves of the
remnants of the painful journey.  They shut the door and I whispered to the
small boy in my arms, "It's ok, we're safe here.  They're our friends. We
can trust them.  And no matter what, I won't ever let anyone take you away
from me."  I gently set his sore feet on the cool white bathroom tile and
he stood before me.  I softly removed his dirt colored blue shirt, and
shorts, the only belongings he had left.  I too removed my torn clothing
then grabbed his hand, and led him into the shower.  He was still very
shaken from our narrow escape.  We stood under the warm water, my arms
wrapped tightly around him, the dirt running down our sore bodies into pool
at our feet before slowly sliding down the into drain.



     It took a few days but eventually he was back to his normal boyish
self.  There were two couples besides us staying at the refuge and before
long we were all the best of friends.  The boys could be boys and throw
dirt clods or play pranks on us.  It was great that he had friends his age.
Still, he'd always prefer to be with me.  The two of us would sit around
and talk, play games such as checkers or go on hikes in the hills when it
wasn't too hot.  But when it was, we'd all go for a cool swim in the
forever blue lake.  But no matter what we did, every moment with him was
perfect.  Not a second went by when I couldn't feel that what we had was
the most special thing that ever existed.  Every word, every touch, every
breath was pure genuine love.  And that smile...oh that smile.  And every
night ended with a beautifully sweet kiss as he assumed his role as the
little spoon.  A bow on the wonderful day he gave me.  As long as we were
together, as long as I was his and he was mine, life would be perfect.  So
it was there that we decided to live our lives...

     Until one day when there was a knock on the door.  It was my father.
Somehow he had found us.  He never approved of my loving relationship or
even met my boy.  He, like the rest of the world, hated what we had for the
sole reason that society told him he was supposed to.  Still, he loved me.
He came to warn us that the military had discovered the refuge.  It was
only a matter of minutes before they arrived.  He told me that if I gave
him my boy he would find him a nice home far away.  He would make sure he
would have a loving family, but that we could never see each other again.
He said that breaking off our relationship would be the only way that would
stop the military from chasing us so we could both be safe.  While I knew
that what he was saying was true, a life without my boy could never be a
life worth living.  I wasn't alone in my thinking.  My love squeezed my
hand tightly and yelled to my father "No!".  His voice was loud, shaking,
yet confident.  He told him of the way he felt, that no matter the
consequences, he would never willingly choose or even accept a moment, let
alone a day without me, "...because he is my favorite.  And I love him more
than you could even imagine."

My father was taken aback and as if something clicked in his mind, his
frustration and urgency suddenly shifted.  Seeing the courage and love that
guided my boy to stand up to him formed some sort of understanding.  His
eyes which had held only frustration and love-flavored disgust now showed
compassion and sorrow for the struggle that plagued our lives.  Realizing
that his plan was no longer an option, he told us to run.  "Run fast and be
safe, both of you.  I'll be praying for you.  I love you son." And with
that he left us behind.  If the military caught him helping us he would
never make it home.

I kneeled down on my knees, faced my boy and held onto his shoulders,
looking him straight in his sweetly piercing eyes.  "I'm sorry, but we have
to run.  I need you to be strong."

     "It's ok. I understand.  As long as I'm with you everything will be
ok."  He flashed a nervous smile and I kissed him as we embraced.

     "Ready?" He nodded.  I grabbed his small but confident hand and dashed
out the door.  The other couples had already left with quick goodbyes as
soon as they heard my father mention that the military was on their way.
And he right.  In the not so far horizon we could see the caravan charging
toward the refuge.  Once again they had taken away our wonderful way of
living, but as long as I held his hand, they had nothing.

     Again we ran for days, eventually finding ourselves trapped by the
ocean and forced to go a different direction.  We had no idea where we were
going, but it didn't matter.  The thunderous caravan could always be heard
in the distance, looming over us, desperately trying to destroy all we had
left.  It was only my boy that kept me sane.  I had life's perfection in my
arms and nothing was going to take it from me.

     The military was right on our tail, but we hadn't had a solid meal or
sleep in a week.  Then just before we reached our breaking point, we
discovered an old abandoned mansion on the coastline.  It was huge and
filled with countless rooms, staircases and secret doors.  The perfect safe
haven for a man and his boy on the run.  We limped our way inside and into
the kitchen.  I set him down on the counter and desperately searched for
anything to feed him.  I found an old can of green beans only half a year
past expiration.  It would have to do.  We walked through the house and
found a secret room to hide in and rest.  We sat against the wall and I
pried open the old can.  He was trying not to show his desperation for food
by hiding it with a forced smile, but his growling stomach said otherwise.
Once it was opened I handed it to him and he hungrily devoured most of it's
contents, stopping himself short.  "Here", he said.  I shook my head and
told him that it was all I had to give him for now and that he needed it.
But he refused. He reasoned that I was the one who had been carrying him
and that I need my strength too.  If I starved, then neither of us would be
together anymore.  He stared up into my eyes, begging me. "Please.  I need
you."  I ashamedly ate the remnants of the can.  It wasn't much, but like
myself, it was all he had to give me.  He smiled as I swallowed the last
bit, but his stomach growled again making me want to weep for him but he
giggled to try to lighten the mood.  I lovingly pulled him close to me.

     "Let's get some rest."



     I awoke to a loud banging ringing throughout the empty mansion.  They
were here, searching the house.  My boy was quietly whimpering, clenching
his fists in the fabric of my shirt.  I held on tighter, whispering quiet
lies into his soft ear. "It'll be ok.  They won't find us.  They can't find
us in here."  But the slamming of doors getting smashed in was drawing
nearer.  This was it.  This was our end.  And I was completely helpless.  I
placed a finger under his chin, lifting his face up to mine.  Trails of
salty rivers tracked down his dirt covered cheeks.  "I love you.  You know
that right?"  He nervously nodded.  I leaned in to kiss him for what would
probably be our last time.  It was powerful, subtle, and perfect.

     There was a loud bang and a wave of dust swirled around the room.  The
door swung open, slamming into the walls.  As an miniature army of men
swarmed around us time slowed.  We never ceased our kiss, determined to let
it last as long as time would let us.  They grabbed me first, pulling my
arm, back, hair; anything they could get a hold of.  As they pulled me back
my grasp on my boy kept him in my arms, bringing him with me...until they
grabbed him too.  Suddenly, as if my heart was furiously ripped from my
chest, he was torn away, his nails scraping my flesh and leaving scars as a
forever lingering memory of him.  The moment our lips parted he began
screaming.  The room was filled with his desperate pleas and cries for
help.  My name bounced around the walls, flowing from his lips like broken
glass, though I heard nothing.  My soul, my only purpose for living, my
love was just taken from me.  I was in shock.  All I could do was watch my
life kick, scream, and cry in desperation as his outstretched arm
helplessly reached for me, yet growing ever apart.  If they hadn't just
taken my heart, it would have been shattered.  How could this have
happened?  Why does it have to be this way?  Why must the world be so
cruel?  Gathering what little life I had left I looked up toward my angel
and managed to whisper a single word

     "please..."

     Suddenly, somehow he broke free.  His sore little feet rapidly padded
toward me and he threw his arms around me.  "Please don't take him from me!
I need him!  I love him!"

Then as his grip grew stronger, the enemy's weakened.  It lessened and
lessened until it was no more and the only touch I felt was from my little
savior.  With my arms now free I reached around him to fulfill our embrace.
All around us the soldiers stood and watched, marveled by the amazing
display of love before them.  They knew of this love, though perhaps not
between a man and a boy, but they knew that what they saw was beautiful.
Our love was genuine, eternal and true.  Perhaps ashamed of their failure
to understand until now they one by one slowly left the room until we were
alone yet forever together.  I sat on my knees safely holding onto the boy
who was the purpose for my existence and I knew that we could now live our
lives, our perfect love, in peace.



So I hope you have enjoyed my dream.  Either way, I'd love to hear from
you.  You can email me at handittome@live.com.  You can also see my blog at
boydaze.blogspot.com where I write about some of my interactions with boys.
I also have links to some of my other, more sexy, nifty stories.  Thanks
for reading!

- Caden