CAW 32: Dragon in Wonderland

Discussion in 'Calling All Writers - CAW 32' started by bistander, Dec 3, 2017.

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  1. bistander

    bistander Well-Known Member

    Dragon in Wonderland

    October 31, 1975

    Drink me, I think or was it that pink thing that stinks? Confusion seems an illusion, yet my brain can't come to any conclusion. Did I do something to cause this? I'm feeling tired, or maybe, I'm dizzy or dazed. Did I fall and hit my head? For a moment, I'm sure I did slammed my head into a tree or a brick wall, or on concrete in a fall. Then, like I never thought that at all, I'm distracted by something furry. It gives me a great burst of energy, and I feel like I'm running.

    No, wait, wait a minute, I'm on a ride at the fair, or maybe I'm just flying through the air? Shouldn't I care?

    Yes, yes, I do care because I have to be somewhere. When, I wonder. “What time is it?” I ask, but nobody answers. “I better go,” I say, but then I wonder where it is I'm supposed to be. I don't even know where I am. “Who are you?”

    “I'm the Gypsy...The acid queen...”

    It's dark, and one of them barks. I'm afraid, but it's not the black of night that is giving me that fright. It's the thought of arriving someplace that I'm not supposed to be. Why won't my mind show me the place I know I don't want to go? “Shouldn't we have a key?” I ask?

    “To tear your soul apart.”

    “Stop singing,” I plead.

    There is someone here, and now I have a great fear, oh dear. Something is near, I think, isn't that queer? Now I'm not afraid because I'm laughing at my mind for thinking in rhymes. Sensing a grasp, I gasp and ask, "Who are you?"

    Bayard replied, "Welcome to my castle," and lit a candle without a flame.

    The first thought that came to my brain was, my dog isn't supposed to be in the garden. Next, I was perplexed because gardens don't have walls, windows, and ceilings. I turn to the Gypsy, and in the bright light, she gave me a new fright. I don't know anybody with such a bush of wacky red hair or a top hat that reaches the ceiling. The room is too small, and I'm going to fall. Stop thinking in rhymes I demand of my mind, but that only brings on a fit that shakes my tits. My tits? “Where are my clothes?”

    I look for the door but fall to the floor. I'm by a window that's as tall as the wall. Before I can jump, there's a scream which reminds me of a dream. “Is this a dream?” I ask the cat with the black hat. Please be a dream.

    The thing in the hat isn't a cat, and Bayard is walking, which seems more strange than when he was talking. He's not a hound anymore, and the room isn't too small. It's huge. I yell, “Am I in Hell,” at the dog with a person's face, then realize he can't hear me, and he's not a dog anymore. It's a man-dragon.

    "I have to go. I should never have come here!” I'm on my hands and knees, backing up. “Please, tell me how to leave!"

    Nobody can hear me over the noise and the voices saying, “Do you think it's alright...He's had a few too many...”

    The character with the giant red afro and the black hat is smiling. I tell him, “Yes, I think it's alright.”

    My feet jam against the glass. It gives me a chill; then I get a thrill because I'm naked. I push my knees out and pull them up, smashing my cheeks against the glass. The abrasive carpet greets my face, shoulders, and chest. My tits bulge at my sides, crushed flat. The curve of my back is severe, pushing my butt up in the air.

    The dragon is talking as he's walking, but all I hear is, “I'm...wicked...fiddle, fiddle, fiddle...”

    I sense I should be afraid. The dragon is eight-feet tall, and his wingspan cast a shadow over me. Should I trust the monster and the Mad Hatter? I close my eyes and listen, trying to make sense of what's happening.

    “Fiddle...bedclothes...nightshirt...you won't shout...fiddle about...”

    My head might be spinning. Maybe I shouldn't have drunk the tea, I think, or maybe I have to pee. I don't know, and it doesn't seem to matter. Nothing matters when you're having a dream or even a nightmare. Something is behind me, but I don't care because nothing can hurt me in a dream.

    Fingers are touching my cheeks, pulling them apart. I feel the tender tissue stretch. It feels nice, but I know that's not right. Open your eyes, I tell myself. Once they are open, you'll be in your bed, and you'll have an amazing tale to tell.

    A warm breeze makes me coo, “Ooh.” As long as it's a dream, who cares, I think. Then I remember the time I was actually was peeing in my bed. I open my eyes and see clawed feet. That is a huge dragon, I tell myself, run, but I'm not afraid. I think I love him. Then I'm amazed by his superhuman genitalia. His cock is as long as an arm, and his swinging sack is packed with softballs sized testicles.

    "Kill me. Make me your eternal whore." Did I say that?

    The right side of my face is smashed against the carpet. Something hot, slick and slimy slaps down on my back. Smoke is blowing around my head. Fingers gouge into the meat of my ass. The dome of his cock covers my asshole like the fat end of a baseball bat. I think to say, take it away, but where else could it go? “Oooh.” Now I know, but I'm not sure why I agreed to it. Did I agree to this?

    My pussy is being pulled open. The dragon roars and the carpet starts smoking, but it's my insides that are burning. I'm being split apart, all the way to my heart. I should scream, this isn't a dream, but when I open my mouth, I can't believe what comes out. “Oh, yes, yes, take me, take me, make me...”

    Something warm is running down my inner thighs. Did he break or make me—The fire in my belly answers my question. He's driving his phallic scepter deeper and deeper. It's filling me and ripping me, crushing my internal organs. The vein throbbing shaft is going to kill me, or maybe I'm already dead. Yes, I must be dead.

    The dragon's cock-head enters my throat. It's like vomiting up a handball. I look down over my nose and open my mouth to let him out. He's fucking me through and through. My jaw stretches painfully. His red dome bursts out—In-out, in and out it goes as he pounds me. Wham, he slams, swinging his massive balls. They slap, slap, slap against my stomach. His dick is swelling like a firehose filling with water. The dragon's sperm is surging through his ramrod and spilling out. It pools around my face to drown me. Then my hair catches fire when flames encase my head. Now I know I'm dead. I'm definitely dead.




    Cathy Evans pulled a file folder from the cabinet, turned toward the receptionist and said, “Janis, send my ten o'clock in when she gets here.”

    Janis nodded while dialing the phone. Cathy walked into her office and sat in a large, leather chair. Once she had her right foot tucked under her left thigh, she opened the folder on the red skirt stretched across her lap.




    25 yr old, female.

    Education: High School. Some college. Incomplete. States drugs and alcohol, “used liberally," during college contributed to not finishing.

    Note-Substance use started in H.S. Currently doesn't drink or use drugs.

    Reason for treatment: Reoccurring dream. Wakes up afraid to go back to sleep. Problem started years ago. She thought they would stop eventually, but they seem to be getting worse.

    Client has never been treated for mental health issues. No family history. No military service. Does not suffer from depression. Does not hear voices. Has never had suicidal thoughts or a desire to hurt herself.

    Family Structure intact. Two siblings, older sister, and older brother. Relationships are, “Good, were always good. We all got along great.”


    Session notes, July 11, 1985.

    Appearance: Medium-length blonde hair, fair skin, blue eyes. Cheeks are always rosy?

    Disposition: Curious, pedantic, easily flustered, sweet, clumsy.

    Clearly disturbed by dreams, but not yet prepared to give details or talk about the subsequent “disturbing” thoughts.

    Requested she write down the details as soon as she wakes up, then go back to sleep. Write every time she wakes up from a dream.

    Weekly visits.




    Session notes, July 18, 1985.

    Big smile. Eyes are tired looking.

    Growing more concerned that the dreams will affect her relationship. Sometimes she wakes up screaming. Has never lived with anyone and worries she won't be able to. Dreams are increasing. Possible triggers: Seasonal, shorter days, relationship stress?

    Claims dream is a bunch of strange, twisted up events, but she knows it's one continuous dream.

    Need more details for analysis.

    Admits to being sexually active in high school. First partner in H.S. She was vague. Almost resistant. No name or age given. Withholding or repressing?




    Session notes, July 25, 1985.

    Big smile, cheeks rosy, but dark rings under eyes.

    Dreaming more often. Details: In water, the woods, a field, and a strange house. Scenes change frequently but maintains that it is one continuous dream. Thinks she is a little girl. There is dialog.

    Still need more details for analysis. Still unclear if she is withholding or repressing?

    Instructed her to continue writing the details as she gets them.




    Session notes, August 2, 1985.

    Dream: Teacup is empty. Has no idea who the other people are or if they're even people, but they are telling her things. She has a sense that she needs to get someplace or be somewhere important, but never finds out where. It's also possible that she is trying to get away from someplace or person.

    None of that warrants fear. She seems reluctant to give all the details.

    Possible connection with drug use and dreams?

    Admitted being promiscuous in H.S. In college she had multiple partners at the same time. Heavy use of alcohol was not always involved. Seems to be trying to prove something or use sex as a coping mechanism.

    ***The client's disposition is inconsistent with my character profile. Still withholding or repressing details. Need to know the scary part that wakes her up.




    Session notes, August 8, 1985.

    Dream: Teacup isn't empty. They're not people, but they are talking to her. One of them has the face of a person but the body of an animal. Thinks that's what scares her.

    She follows a rabbit through a small hole. The hole seems too small for an adult.




    August 15, 1985, Cathy Evans, Psychologist Ph.D., sat across from a woman in a blue denim dress with bright yellow daisies on the chest. “I sense you are leaving something out. Is there a reason you wouldn't want to tell me all of the dream? You trust me, don't you?” Cathy asked. “It's important that you feel like you can tell me anything.”

    “You're gonna think I'm crazy."

    "No, I'm not going to think that,” Cathy said, firmly. “You came here for my help, and I want to help you through this, but I need to know everything to do that.”

    "I know. I'm sorry."

    “It's okay," Cathy said with an encouraging smile. "Why don't you walk me through the dream from beginning to end. Give me every detail."

    "It's a little nuts."

    "That's fine," Cathy said. "The meaning of dreams can be very elusive. Your brain is filled with billions of memories. It knows exactly how something felt, smelled, sounded and what you saw, plus the feelings and the thoughts and the emotions experienced. During a dream, two or more events can be twisted together."

    "But I wake up thinking—It's bizarre. If anybody—I don't even want to think about it."

    "I understand," Cathy lied. "It's important that you feel safe telling me everything."

    "I do, Ms. Evans, I do."

    "Good," Cathy said and picked up her pen. "Go ahead." The pen scratched on her pad.

    "There is a rabbit."

    "Is that what scares you?" Cathy asked.

    "No, he's funny. The rabbit is always first; then there's a huge hedge. I go through it. I go through a hole that seems too small to fit."

    "Does the hole scare you?"

    "No. I think I know I should be afraid, but I go through anyway. Like when you're hitchhiking, you know it's dangerous, but you get in any way."

    “Do you ever have the sensation that you're falling?"

    "I might trip and fall. It's not clear. I'm dizzy, I think."

    Cathy pushed her glasses up and said, “Keep going.”




    Ten minutes later, Cathy reviewed her notes and said, "Alice, do you know what it sounds like?"

    "Yes, of course," Alice said. “Alice in Wonderland. You think I'm dreaming about a fairy tale.”

    “No,” Cathy said and put both feet on the floor. “Did you read that story when you were little?”

    “Of course,” Alice said. “My name is Alice.”

    Cathy leaned forward. “Did the story scare you?”

    “No, not at all. I used to dress up as Alice for Halloween."

    “There is a chance that as a young girl it might have been a little frightening. Then, if something happened later on while you were dressed up as—”

    “No, no that's not it. Alice never sees a dragon.” The terror in the woman's eyes was tangible. “She doesn't get killed by a dragon. I get killed! I die every time I have that fuckin' dream!” Alice crossed her arms over her chest, grabbed her shoulders and hugged herself like she was freezing.

    Cathy leaned back in her chair. “That's what scares you, then?”

    “Yes, of course, I get killed by the dragon.”

    “Why was it so hard for you to share that with me? We've been talking about this for weeks.”

    Alice shook her head. “I don't know.”

    “Was it too scary to talk about,” Cathy asked.

    “I guess,” Alice said, loosening her arms. “It's scary, yes. I wake up when I know I'm dead. Isn't it really bad to actually die in your dreams? Doesn't it mean something bad is going to happen?”

    “No, Alice, that's not true. People say that, but it's a myth. It can actually be a good sign. It might symbolize you're moving on from the past to something new. Do you think that could be true for you? Is there something in your past that you're trying to move away from?”

    “I don't know, but I don't like getting killed night after night.”

    “I can understand that.” Cathy scribbled on her pad. “You said you wake up when you know you're dead. If you know you're dead, aren't you still alive?”

    Alice cocked her head quizzically. “Yeah, I suppose I am, I think. Maybe I'm dreaming in my dream and the dream is of me dying, but I know I'm dreaming. Does that make sense?”

    “I know what you mean. I've woken up in a dream, too. How does the dragon kill you?” Alice shifted several times in the chair and looked around the psychologist's office. Cathy said, “You don't have to be embarrassed.”

    “But I am,” Alice said. “It's embarrassing.”

    “I understand why you might feel that way, but it's important that I hear everything if you want a good analysis of your dream,” Cathy said. “Maybe it would be easier for you to write the whole thing out like it's a story. Be as honest as you can and get every detail, no matter how insignificant it might seem. Pretend nobody is ever going to read it. And nobody ever has to. When it's done, you can decide if you want to share it with me. Do you think you can do that?”

    Alice's head nodded. “Yes, okay, I can try that.”

    “While you're writing, think about anything that might have happened to you. Anything that scared you. It's possible this dream is connected to an event in your life.”

    Alice's head was still nodding. “Okay.”

    “If you want me to read it, bring it next time, knowing you don't have to. Nobody ever has to read it.”

    “Can I send it to you? You know, mail it.”

    “If you think that will make it easier, then that's fine.”

    “I'll do that, I think I'll do that.”

    “If you find you're getting too upset, then stop...take a break. Call if you need to.”

    “Thank you, thank you, I will.”

    Cathy Evans said goodbye to the ashen-faced woman, then updated her chart: Alice made a breakthrough today. She told me something she had been holding back, but there is still more that she isn't saying. Likely suffered a trauma that her mind has turned into a monster in her dreams so she doesn't have to face the truth...




    Five days later, at 9 PM, Cathy Evans dragged the back of her hand across her forehead and blew out a long breath. Alice's account of her dream was extremely detailed. Cathy spread the pages out on her desk, but before she started reading again, she opened her appointment book and blocked out the hour following Alice's next visit.

    Cathy rolled her pen through her fingers; then stuck the end in her mouth, clinking it across her teeth as she started reading. “It's Halloween night, but I'm not going trick-or-treating. I'm too old for that. I'm outside with a friend...”




    August 22, 1985

    Cathy Evans looked up from her notes, gave Alice a reassuring smile and asked, “Did you listen to The Who?”

    “I did, but my brother loved them and played their albums all the time.”

    “Did you see the movie, Tommy?”

    “I did,” Alice said. “My brother took me and my friend.”

    “Did it scare you at all?”

    “No, not at all.”

    “Let's go back to that time in your life,” Cathy said. “Did anything major happen? Anything significant that you remember during that year?”

    Alice shook her head. “I don't think so. Not anything that I remember.”

    “Okay, how about the setting in your dream, does it represent something from your childhood? It's very important to establish connections between the dream and things that might have happened.”

    “I think so. There was this place near my house. It was an old estate that all the kids said was haunted. You know how kids are. Nobody lived there. It had a tall fence around the property. It was a big spooky house with lots of woods near it. A lot of the time it was foggy in there. We always said it was because of the ghosts, but later we found out it was because the lake behind the house was warm, so when the air got cool it got foggy.”

    “That's good, Alice, very good,” Cathy said and put a check mark on page one of Alice's dream. “Is there something else?”

    “Yes, there was a huge iron gate. Two gates, you know, that open away from each other. And stone pillars next to them. It was overgrown with vines and weeds.” Alice shivered and said, “Above the gates, it said, Wonderland...and each pillar had a creepy creature on top.”

    “A dragon?”

    “Not a dragon, more like Godzilla and a wolf thing on the other one.” Alice put her heels on the edge of her chair and brought her knees up to her chin.

    “Is there any reason that it might have been a scary place for you? I mean beyond the childhood folklore. Something traumatic?”

    “I don't think so,” Alice said. “We stopped being afraid of it. We used to sneak onto the property. It was kinda the joke, you know, Alice in Wonderland.”

    “Alice, you did an excellent job writing out the details of your dream. You mentioned going through a hole. Was there a hole that you used to get on the property?”

    “Yes, a hole in the fence, but first we had to go through the hedge. It used to scratch me.”

    “Could that be the small hole from your dream?”

    “It could be.”

    “If that's so, can you think of anything memorable that happened to you in there?”

    “I wasn't allowed to go there,” Alice said. “My parents would have killed me if they caught me in there again.”

    “They caught you at some point?”

    “They found out. Me and my sister were talking about it. We went in there because someone dared us. My father told us never to do it again.”

    Cathy noted Alice's protective posture. The woman was hugging her legs and rocking like an emotionally distraught child. “I assume you continued to go.”

    “Yeah, yeah, I did, but not until a couple of years later when I was drinking and all.”

    “Was that one of your regular hangouts?”

    Alice shook her head. “Not regular, occasionally.”

    “I assume by 'and all,' you mean drugs?”

    “Unfortunately, yes, that's what I mean.”

    “Alice, I've spent a good deal of time going through what you sent me and looking in my reference books. There is a great deal that suggests something happened to you and your brain has turned it into a dream. Can you think of anything?”

    “Maybe, maybe there could be,” Alice said without looking away from her kneecaps.

    “What do you think the teacup represents?”

    Alice finally lifted her head. Her expression was defensive. “How should I know?”

    Cathy made another check mark on a page of Alice's story without speaking, then she waited a minute before saying, “I'm here to help you, Alice, not to judge you.”

    A defeated look settled on Alice's face. “Probably mushrooms. I did mushrooms. They made tea.”

    “Is there one particular time in Wonderland that you think most likely corresponds to your dream?”

    “Maybe, I guess.”

    “Tell me about it.”

    “There was this one Halloween, I was supposed to be with my friend, Ginger Snap, but she didn't want to go to Wonderland. She was afraid. I ditched her and went by myself. I knew there were people hanging out, but I don't remember who.”

    “They gave you mushrooms?”

    “I think so,” Alice said. “Maybe not at first, but later, maybe.”

    “You think that could be represented by the teacup being empty, then having something in it?”

    Alice nodded and tightened her arms around her legs. “I had never done mushrooms before, and I don't think I wanted them.”

    “Did someone force you?”

    Alice shook her head emphatically. “No.”

    Cathy wrote on her pad. “There is a possibility that much of your dream is based on things that you think happened while you were—”

    “Tripping?” Alice said.

    “Yes, hallucinating. It can be difficult for your mind to distinguish between what you imagined and what happened. The two could be merging. Dreams are confusing enough without the effects of psychedelics.”

    Alice's expression turned hopeful. “Is it possible I imagined the whole thing, and I'm just dreaming about a memory of an imagination?”

    “I doubt it,” Cathy said. “We know you were there in Wonderland on a Halloween night, so that part of your dream is based in reality. Even when you're hallucinating, those hallucinations are related to your surrounding or something that is happening.”

    “Oh.”

    “Don't get discouraged. We're making progress. We've established important connections. Are you prepared to go a little deeper so we can separate real events from those fabricated in your mind?”

    “I guess.”

    “You mentioned noise and voices,” Cathy said. “How many people do you think were at that party, and was there music playing?”

    “Yes, there would have been music. We always had music. Somebody always had a boom-box, and we always played music,” Alice said. “But I don't remember who was there that night.”

    “What about in your dream, do you have an idea about numbers or who they were?”

    Alice shook her head.

    “You were very brave writing about your dream, and very descriptive. I know that must have been difficult.”

    “It was, and it was harder sending it to you. I wasn't going to come today.”

    “Let's examine that,” Cathy said. “It's just a dream that you have no control over, right?”

    “Right.”

    “Then why do you think it's so hard for you to talk about it? You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

    “But it's embarrassing.”

    “Is that because of the effect the dream has on you? Are you ashamed of that?”

    Alice nodded without looking at Cathy.

    “Why?”

    “I'm—You read it. You know what happens to me. Why does that excite me? What's wrong with me? I get raped by a dragon, and I wake up excited!”

    “There isn't anything wrong with you, Alice. You didn't do anything wrong. It's very important that you understand that. Do you think you have done something to bring this on?”

    “I'm not sure.”

    “Tell me what you think might be connected to this shame.”

    “I don't know, but I wasn't a, um, one of the nice girls.”

    “Alice, there isn't anything you could have done that warrants what happened to you in your dream, nothing.”

    “I know.”

    “I don't think you do. I think something happened and in your subconscious you feel guilty. This dream might be the punishment you think you deserve.”

    “Bayard, he was just a puppy,” Alice said. “You know how puppies are. I thought he was playing, but at some point, I knew he wasn't. I knew it was wrong, but I didn't stop him. I did something when I knew it was wrong. Disgusting...sick.”

    “How old were you?”

    “Old enough to know better.”

    “Old enough that you were sexually active?”

    “No, no, I wasn't that old, but I knew what dogs did, and I knew that's what he was doing to my leg. I let him squirt on my leg.”

    Cathy wrote on her pad and asked, “You think you deserved to be killed for that?”

    “It wasn't only once, and I liked it. That's nasty...bad, letting a dog squirt on your leg.”

    “Did anything else happen besides him humping your leg? Did you have intercourse with him?”

    “No, oh, God, no, I never would have done that.”

    “Alice, even if you had, you wouldn't deserve to be killed for it.”

    “I know, but it's humiliating, and I knew better.”

    “Did anybody ever find out?”

    Alice's mouth opened, then her head started shaking. “No, nobody.”

    Cathy wrote on her pad: Strong guilt complex, then said, “I know you are reluctant to talk about the end of the dream, but it's important. Can we talk about it now?”

    “Don't you think it's probably because of what happened with my dog? That, and the mushrooms.”

    “That's a possibility, but it's important that we connect all the dots. We know there are connections between the dream and real life as far as the setting, the music, the fairy tale and Wonderland, plus the mushrooms and the dragon, but we don't know who was there that night. A dragon with a human face is significant. Whose face do you see when you look at the dragon?”

    "I'm not sure I want to know."

    "I think you do, at least part of you does, or you wouldn't be having these dreams. You need to kill the dragon, subconsciously, so it won't kill you anymore.”

    "If I know, will the dreams stop?"

    "That's possible."

    "It's been years...I've been having this dream for years, and I never know whose face it is. Maybe I don't know.”

    “Alice, you most likely know.” Cathy pointed at Alice's head. “It's in there somewhere.”

    “How come I can't remember?"

    “For the same reason people don't remember car accidents or details if they witness a traumatic event. Their brains are in survival mode. Chemicals like adrenaline are being sent to the body. The brain waves are going very fast. It's not easy to remember things when you're in that state. If you were experiencing something scary, your brain would have been in that state.”

    “That means I don't know what happened.”

    “No,” Cathy said. “If you saw it, then it's in your brain.”

    “What's the problem, then?”

    “Alice, when a person relaxes, their brain waves slow down. They go from Beta to Alpha to Theta. That's how it is when you're dreaming. That's when there is better access to the subconscious. The problem is, you're scared, and your brain waves speed up. Those survival chemicals race through your body and you wake up.”

    “That means I have to stay asleep to know.”

    “Not necessarily,” Cathy said. "What do you know about hypnosis?"

    "Hypnosis!"

    "Relax, it's not like on TV.” Cathy crossed her legs. “You don't turn into a zombie or quack like a duck when someone snaps their fingers."

    “Oh.”

    "Theta waves emerge in the twilight state or lucid state. When you're half awake and half-asleep."

    “Like meditation,” Alice said.

    “Yes, similar. When you get into a meditative state, half-asleep and half-awake, there is no veil between the conscious and the subconscious mind. That's when a hypnotherapist can gain access to the subconscious. Is that something you'd be willing to try?

    “I guess,” Alice said, “but our time is almost up.”

    “I don't have another appointment, so if you'd like to try, we can.”

    “Okay, I guess I can do that. I don't have anything else to do.”

    “Why don't we take a break,” Cathy said. “Get something to drink and use the restroom. That way nothing will disturb us once we get started. It's going to take a few times to get comfortable, so we'll just go through the process today, and you can practice at home between sessions.”

    Alice nodded.

    “It's not easy, so do it every day. The more you practice the better you'll be at getting your mind slowed down. Then we'll be able to start tapping into your subconscious.”

    Alice kept nodding.




    Ten minutes later, Alice was lying on the proverbial couch with her head propped up. Her shoes were off, and her hands were folded on her stomach. Cathy was sitting in a chair beside her. “Are you ready,” Cathy asked.

    Alice gave her a quizzical look. “Where's the watch?”

    “There's no watch. It's not like that,” Cathy said and handed her headphones. “Put these on. Get them in the most comfortable position you can. You'll be listening to some music with your eyes closed.”

    “Should I fall asleep?”

    “No, you're not going to be asleep. I want you to relax as much as possible. Focus on the music. Try to hear the individual sounds in each ear. It's designed to help align the right and left hemispheres of the brain. When your mind wanders, very gently pull it back to the music. If you start to drift off, be aware of it, but don't jar yourself like you normally would if you were trying not to fall asleep. Be gentle and remind yourself that the sounds are important. Can you do that?”

    “I'll do my best.”

    “I'm going to be right here, Alice. This time, we'll just get used to the process. Take about ten minutes and see how comfortable you are with it. I'll be able to speak to you through this microphone. You'll hear me in your ears. I won't say much. Just enough so you're used to my voice showing up. It might startle you the first couple of times. You'll get used to it, though."




    Twenty minutes later, Cathy said, “Go ahead and open your eyes now Alice. You did very well. I think you'll be able to do this without much effort.”

    “That music, if you can call it that, I didn't think I liked it, but it did something to my brain. It felt like it was tingling.”

    “Do you have headphones?”

    “Yes, I do, I have a really nice pair, like these, very comfortable and they block out everything.”

    “When you heard my voice, how much did it disturb you?”

    “Not much, then after a few times, it seemed like it belonged there. Blended in.” Alice smiled. “You have a nice voice. It's, um, pretty; it's a pretty voice. Sorry, that doesn't make sense.”

    “Thank you,” Cathy said. “Try and spend at least twenty minutes every day meditating. Next time you come, we'll go a little deeper. That's what we'll do for the next few weeks.”

    “Will I remember all of the dream?”

    “It'll take some time before we can go that far. For now, I want you to get used to going to that calm place in your mind.”

    “Okay.”




    October 31, 1985

    Cathy Evans crossed her legs and looked down at her client. “Alice, are you comfortable?”

    “Yes, very.”

    “Good. You have gotten very good at letting yourself go back in your mind. I think you're ready to go the rest of the way. Do you feel ready?”

    Alice smiled nervously. “Yes, I think so.”

    “Once you get there, I'll be talking you through what happened based on what we know. Then I'll be asking you to fill me in on things we don't know. At any point, if you want to stop, open your eyes. That's all you have to do is open your eyes. I'll be right here. You're safe, remember that, you will never be in danger. You're the dragon slayer, this time.”




    Twenty-five minutes later, Alice's hands rose and fell with her slow, steady breaths. Occasionally, her cheek or eyelid twitched, but there were no other movements. Her forehead shined with perspiration.

    Cathy whispered into the mic, "Alice, where are you?" Alice's eyes moved under her lids as if looking for the source of the voice. "It's me, Cathy. Where are you?"

    Alice's dry lips pulled apart. "I'm at the tea party."

    "Are you in Wonderland?"

    “Oh, yes,” Alice said. “I came through the hole. Look, I got scratched.” Her hand went to her thigh and pulled her dress up. “See.”

    Cathy watched Alice rub the pale flesh at the top of her inner thigh. "Does that hurt?"

    "No, it doesn't hurt anymore. Nothing hurts. I feel good all over my whole body...really good. Everything feels so nice."

    "Alice, look around and see who's there with you."

    "Everybody is here. Mouse, Bayard, Dodo, Gryphon, King and Queen, we're all here."

    "Are you afraid of anybody?"

    “No."

    Cathy waited a couple of minutes before talking again. "What are you doing now?"

    "I'm looking for that darn rabbit. I know he went this way."

    "Where are you?"

    "In his house. I went upstairs in his house."

    "Are you scared?"

    "No,” Alice said. “Maybe I should be, but I'm not."

    "Take a minute, look around, then tell me what you see."

    "The room is big, really big, and empty. No furniture at all."

    "Is it dark?"

    "No, it's not dark. It's dark outside, but not in here."

    "Tell me about the light, Alice. Did someone light a candle?"

    "Yes, no, it's not a candle. It flickered, but it's not a candle. It's a flashlight. Two, no three, and one is pointed at the ceiling."

    "Is the rabbit there with you?"

    "I don't see him. I think he tricked me."

    "Does that make you mad?"

    "No, I'm happy. I feel so happy. I'm going out on the balcony. There are no doors. I can walk right out on the balcony. It's dark out here. I can see the tea party down there."

    "Isn't it scary out there in the dark while everybody is down at the party?"

    "No. I don't have to be scared. Bayard and Gryphon are here." Alice's hand jerked. "What are you doing?"

    "What's happening, Alice? Tell me what is happening. Nobody can hear you accept me. Tell me as it happens."

    "I'm on the balcony. At the railing. I'm looking into the black between the trees. Hands are on my stomach. They shouldn't be there. I know they shouldn't be there and they shouldn't make me feel these things. It's wrong."

    "Are you afraid of those hands?"

    "Yes, not really, but I shouldn't like it. Should I like how it feels?"

    "Yes, Alice, you should like it as long as you're not afraid of that person. Who's touching your stomach?"

    “It's the Mad Hatter." Alice moved her hand down to her groin. “I guess I do, I do like that, but I know I shouldn't. Promise, promise you won't tell?"

    Cathy waited and watched while Alice pulled up her dress and combed her fingers through her thick, golden bush of pubic hair.

    "No, I didn't wear them," Alice said. "I didn't wear a bra either. Yes, yes I am a naughty girl. I know I'm bad, but please don't tell.”

    "Alice, what is the Mad Hatter doing to you?"

    "She took my dress off, and she's touching me. I'm naked because that's what bad girls do, they show off their tits in Wonderland." Alice pinched her swollen nipple. "Yes, I do like it, but promise not to tell?"

    "Alice, are you afraid?"

    "Yes, I do like it," Alice said and groped her crotch. "I know, I told you, I know, but why does it feel so nice?" Alice stroked her moist groove with her middle finger. “You won't tell, will you?”

    "Alice, it's me, Cathy. Is somebody telling you something?”

    “Yes, the Mad Hatter is.”

    “What is she telling you?”

    Alice panted, sawing her clit with her index and middle fingers. “She's making me feel those bad things. She knows...she's showing me how bad I am.”

    “Are you afraid of her?” Cathy asked.

    “No, but maybe I should be afraid.”

    “What should you be afraid of?"

    "I should be afraid that they'll know how bad I am. I knew better, yes, I knew it was wrong, but I liked it. I really liked it,” Alice said. “Yes, yes, I will, but promise you won't tell."

    "Alice, what does she want you to do?"

    “Can they see us?” Alice asked.

    "Can who see you?"

    "The tea party. Will they be able to see us? Nobody can know, never, nobody can ever know, promise."

    “What's happening to you?”

    "I'm inside. No, I'm outside. I'm inside and outside. I'm on my hands and knees, half in and half out. Can they see us?"

    "Alice, look around. Is the dragon there? Can you see the dragon?"

    "He's here."

    “What is he doing?”

    “He's naked, too. We're all naked, now."

    "Does that scare you?"

    "No, I like being naked. That's right, bad girls always take their clothes off, I know."

    “Who is telling you that, Alice?”

    “Oh, are you sure?” Alice asked. “I've never done that. I know, you're right.”

    "Alice, who are you talking to? Who's there with you?"

    "It's just us, now. Me and the Mad Hatter and the dragon.”

    "Who is the dragon? It's okay to say it because nobody can hear you. Say it, say his name. If you can say his name, the dragon will die.”

    “But I think I love the dragon... I want to love him, I do.”

    "Alice, do you know what is happening? Are you scared?"

    "Yes, I know what they want me to do. It does scare me. It will hurt, but I don't mind because I'm so bad and they can't find out."

    Cathy took three deep, calming breaths, then said, “If you want it to stop, all you have to do is open your eyes.”

    “It's big, like an arm. It'll kill me, I know it will kill me.” Alice pulled her knees up and covered her splayed crotch with both hands. “Okay, if you're sure, but promise not to tell.”

    “Alice, you can stop this. You don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

    “I have to,” Alice said. “I'm stuck. There isn't any room. I'm stuck right here with my ass in the air. It's hard to breathe without any room. I'm afraid, but I know it's all right. Tommy thinks it's all right.”

    “Who is the Dragon? Tell me who it is and the dragon can't hurt you.”

    “I thought it was Bayard, but he isn't the dragon."

    “Look around, Alice. Find the dragon and tell me whose face you see.”

    “I can't. I can't move. I think the Mad Hatter is sitting on my head.”

    “Yes, yes you can, Alice. It's a dream, and in a dream, you can do things that you don't think are possible. Now let yourself see the dragon's face and tell me his name.”

    "Tommy, can you hear me? Tommy, I'm your wicked Uncle Ernie, and I want to fiddle." Alice's knees spread and she pulled her pussy lips open. "Yes, I do like dick! I swear I like dick better than that. Yes, do it, do it, give me your dick."

    Cathy held her breath, trying to convince herself she was doing the right thing. Alice's face grimaced with pain.

    “Oh, fuck, fuck,” Alice cried. “Yes, I told you I wasn't like that. I'm not like that. He's fucking me with his giant dick, and I love dick. I'll never be able to get enough dick, never. Kill me with that fuckin' dick!”

    "Time is going to stop, Alice. Time is slowing down. It's getting so slow that everything is stopping. Now, nobody is moving. I want you to lay down on your back and go to sleep. You need to lay down and go to sleep. Do that now, Alice lay down and go to sleep."

    Cathy wiped the tears from her eyes and gently lowered Alice's dress, then she went to her desk, gulped down some water and started making notes on Alice's chart.

    When she heard movement behind her, Cathy turned in her chair. Alice was rubbing her eyes and yawning. "How long have I been sleeping?"

    Cathy looked at her watch and said, "About an hour."

    "Feels like it was longer than that." Alice sat up and fanned her dress on her lap. "Phew, did I embarrass myself?"

    "No. Did you have any dreams?"

    "I don't think so. I don't remember falling asleep. I guess it didn't work."

    Cathy returned to the chair in front of Alice. "Tell me, is there something you really don't want your parents to know?"

    "Um, yeah, I'm sure. You know compared to my sister, I wasn't the best daughter. I drank and all that."

    "Was there something else that you really worried about? Maybe something that you were afraid someone else might tell them?"

    Alice's eyes widened. "Did I say something or do something while I was sleeping?"

    "You weren't sleeping, Alice. You were reliving that night at the tea party. I was with you, and you told me about it as it happened." Alice's face turned white. "It's okay, Alice.”

    "Is it?"

    "Yes, it's fine, but there is something that scared you more than the dragon. Something you were afraid your parents might discover. Tell me about that thing you didn't want anybody to tell your parents."

    "How do you know that?"

    "You told me while you are under, but you didn't say what it was. You only said you were afraid someone would tell. You would do anything to keep it a secret. You thought it made you a bad person."

    "It does...it would, but I don't think like that anymore. I changed."

    "Alice, if you want to slay your dragon, you need to let go of your secrets. Tell me about Tommy."

    "Tommy!" Alice said. "Who said anything about Tommy? That's the songs...the songs from the album."

    "Yes, it is, and that was part of your dream, but Tommy is a person, and he was at the Halloween party in Wonderland."

    "Oh, God, did I tell you about Tommy?"

    "No, you didn't. Who is Tommy? Was he the boy you didn't want to tell me about, your first?"

    "No, no, the dragon was my first. I lost my virginity that night, to someone. That's why I didn't tell you who. I don't know. Tommy was my sister's boyfriend. I had a crush on him for awhile. I slept with him. What kind of person fucks her sister's boyfriend! I'm going to burn in hell." A jerking sob sent tears down Alice's cheeks.

    "Take it easy." Cathy moved to the couch next to Alice and put an arm around her. "It's important that we figure out what you were afraid someone would tell. Was it your sister? Did she find out about Tommy?"

    "No, thank God, she never found out. She still doesn't know."

    "Alice, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Cathy said and squeezed Alice's hands. “What was it then? Somebody knew something, and you would do anything to keep it from your parents. You let the dragon kill you to keep it from them. What was it?"

    "Crystal, she knew about Crystal. My sister knew about Crystal. She caught us naked in bed. My parents would die if they knew. I never did it again after we got caught. I swear."

    "You don't have to swear, Alice. I'm not here to judge you or anybody else. Did your sister judge you? Is that why you've had so many partners, to prove you're not like that?"

    "No, of course not. I'm not like that. I like men, really like sex with men."

    Cathy stroked Alice's forehead, brushing streamers of blonde hair aside. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “Did she? Did your sister judge you? Make you feel ashamed?”

    Alice's chin wrinkled as she fought back tears. She nodded. “I loved Crystal. I lived in fear of somebody in school finding out, but I loved her. Then my sister caught us. I mean really caught us. I never spent time alone with Crystal again, but I still lived in fear.”

    “Alice, I'm sorry you had to live like that. I'm sorry you didn't come and see me sooner.” She leaned close to Alice and looked into her eyes. They darted right, left right, avoiding her stare. “You don't have anything to be afraid of anymore.”

    “I don't?”

    “No...you don't. I'm going to help you, Alice. I promise.”

    A few tears escaped and raced down Alice's rosy cheeks. “Thank you.”

    “Alice, I have another question.”

    “What?”

    “What happened to Tommy?”

    “She married him...my sister, they got married."

    "Oh,” Cathy said and took a deep breath. “Are they still around? You still see her?”

    “Sure, they live in town. We all still get together. Holidays and birthdays, you know, the normal family stuff.”

    “Do you remember who the Mad Hatter was?"

    "Oh, for Halloween, my sister was always the Mad Hatter, and I was Alice. My brother, Pete, he would be Mouse or the King of Hearts."

    Cathy shook her head. “Ah, Alice, there are a few more dragons that we're going to have to kill." She squeezed Alice's upper arm and watched her eyes fill with emotion.

    “As long as you'll help me, I won't be afraid anymore. I promise.”

    Cathy gently pressed her palm to Alice's cheek, then swept it back over her ear and down to her neck. “Alice, you have nothing to be ashamed of, I promise.”
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Dec 3, 2017
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  2. 1 Toy Maker

    1 Toy Maker Well-Known Member

    I have never seen or read Alice in wonderland and i dont believe it went anything like this. Lol. Great story with no mistakes that i picked up.
     
  3. AnX...

    AnX... Bloody nuisance

    Loved it, well written, enjoyed it immensely.
     
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  4. bistander

    bistander Well-Known Member

    Well written and well told. The length was appropriate for this type of contest. Noticed two minor mistakes. One was with something that should have been plural and wasn't, the other was the word 'was' doubled in a sentence.
    It was obvious which picture it was based on. There were just enough very twisted threads to connect it to Alice in Wonderland. Not sure it was scary unless you're Alice, but then again, Alice was never really scared when she should have been in the original story.
     
  5. Pars001

    Pars001 #1 Knight Writer

    not to paraphrase but not my cup of tea though it was well written
     
  6. Redbeard1031

    Redbeard1031 Well-Known Member

    This was a well written story with musical memories woven throughout. I enjoyed reading this and thanks for your submission.
     
  7. Uncle B

    Uncle B Well-Known Member

    I think this one might take me awhile to process. My head feels like I went through a bad acid trip. Or maybe I should have said mushroom tea? This story is very complex, and I applaud the author for all of the hard work put into it. I'm not sure that I enjoyed it, but I can definitely respect it.

    A couple of small errors. Nothing major. I noticed the use of accept, when it should have been except, something that a spellchecker would let through.

    I'm going to go back and read this again for sure. Whether I enjoyed it or not, it is some excellent writing. I hope that you don't take that as a negative.

    You forgot to add the picture number. (I'm not going to back down on that point.)
     
    ejls likes this.
  8. bistander

    bistander Well-Known Member

    I'm not backing down either, however, this is the last time I'll mention this. If the story doesn't tell the reader what they are reading about, then the author failed. This particular story even had a title that told the reader which picture it was about, then it was throughout the story. I'd rather not know and use that as part of my voting criteria. I'm just saying, but I shall not say it anymore.
    I respect your take on it, even if I don't agree. ;-)
     
  9. fantasysflirt

    fantasysflirt Active Member

    Interesting storyline, considering I watched the movie.

    Now my question: what's with the cliff hanger? I demand a part two!!
     
  10. ejls

    ejls Moderator Staff Member

    It took me a while to get through this. More dialogue than I'm used to, needing some descriptive passages. It was well done, but not exactly enjoyable for me.
     
  11. Justanotherslut

    Justanotherslut Active Member

    Hmm, not being a huge fan of the movie, this story put a new twist on the movie.
     
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  12. Little Miss K

    Little Miss K Naughty but Nice

    This ended up being a pleasant surprise. :)

    I am not , and never have been, a fan of Alice in Wonderland. In fact... I HATE it! I had nightmares for weeks after seeing the Disney cartoon, and years later after reading the book, I had more. :mad:

    I started reading this, but I had to stop. I really was getting annoyed by the unstructured rhyming through that first part. I tried again, with the same results. I thought the whole story was going to be written like that, and I wasn't going to read it at all. :confused:

    Then it all changed! I loved the analytical way that the whole backstory was reveled. It was almost like reading a story backwards. I ended up liking this one very much. (Just not so much that first part. :p)

    I agree with @fantasysflirt about the ending. I feel like we still have so much to learn about poor Alice, and what happened in the spooky house.

    This was very well written. Thank you for your story. :)
     
  13. ahorsewithnoname

    ahorsewithnoname Author & Admin. Live. Love. Write! Win a Pulitzer! Staff Member

    Well now.

    I too was put off by the start
    Felt like my head was breaking apart
    I hoped that the rhyming would change
    The rhyming, to me, it was strange.

    And then the story became normal
    The writing, it became much more formal
    Certainly there was plenty of dialogue
    It helped clear me of that rhyming fog.

    Soon I noticed a pattern
    As clear as the rings of Saturn
    Lots of dialogue for me to read
    Well-written I will concede.

    Ah, then it became quite clear
    Whose writing began to appear
    This site's number one favorite son
    The channeled, irrepressible Wantsomefun!

    Sorry. :)

    As I was reading the long passages of dialogue, I could not help but think that Rich had taken over this author's body and was cranking out yet another great story. If there ever is an enduring signature of Rich's writing, it was his passion for dialogue, and, for writing a story with just two characters. This near 8,000 word story kept my interest throughout. Had no clue where it was going, and at the end, while there could have been more, I think it paused at a good place. I didn't thirst for more, like one does for an incomplete story. Rather, I had a small, wry smile upon my face.

    Hey author? Great job! Ya' had a few hiccups, but when there's just a few in 8,000 words, pfffffft. Not calling you out on them. And hey, you didn't put the photo number at the beginning, so I'm gonna' dock you for that...lemme see...half a point.

    This was story #2 that I've read, and I already feel like I'm running out of votes! Great job!

    Truth is, I don't vote when I'm a host, since I know who wrote what. Sad, but true.
     
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  14. Missrachael

    Missrachael Queen of Cheshire

    Good story, this was another read in bed last night.

    Dialogue is difficult to make flow but this worked well but I do agree that perhaps there was a little too much but unavoidable in telling this tale. Despite that, definitely one of my favourites and making my choice more difficult
     
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  15. bistander

    bistander Well-Known Member

    Thank you, whoever might have voted for this.

    To explain, originally, when I saw the pictures, I was going to write a sex story from the Exorcist, but hadn't seen the movie in over thirty years, and didn't have enough time. At that point, I wasn't going to bother writing anything, but I threw out a comment that the contest should be extended a month, not thinking it would be, and fuck, it was. I started to panic, thinking about how I'd be the dick who got it extended and didn't write anything.

    That's when I remembered I had a dragon scene in a draft once, but it was a rabbit trail that the story should never have taken, so I cut it. I dug up the paper copy and thought, how hard could it be to make a scary story around a girl having sex with a dragon in wonderland? What I found out is, my first name isn't Steven, nor my last King. I spent a huge amount of time writing this story. I know some had trouble with the rhymes, but you have no idea how much harder that was for me! I don't rhyme. Go read any of my past stories and you'll find not a rhyme at all.

    Oh, did I mention I had never read Alice in Wonderland or seen the movie? I had to read that stupid story and look at all the characters online to find ideas. My idea came when I read about the tea party. I always loved that song, White Rabbit, "One pill makes you larger and pill makes you small...", and I did LSD and mushrooms in the 70's, so I had it, a story. Right? No, not even close.

    As far as the dialog, writing dialog is a time consuming, mother f''er, but that was the only way this story would have been worth a fuck. Having the narrator tell you what happened to Alice would have been lame and lazy writing.