{"sf1_id":11799,"sf2_id":"XekKNB7e","title":"...Perchance to Dream.","author":"Drak","words":4417,"posted_at":"2006-07-10T12:24:00.000Z","tags":["Dragoness","Human","Love","Suicide","Transformation"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/11799-perchance-to-dream","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/XekKNB7e","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=11799\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"Hey all, just want you all to know, right off, that this is \\*NOT\\* my story.  \n  \nWas a story I ran across many years back that has slowly but surely disappeared from the general internet and figured it'd have a place here.  \n  \nI hope you all enjoy this as much as I did/still do.  \n  \nAnd on a side note, the song mentioned is titled 'Witch of the Westmorland'.  \nHighly recommended you give it a listen.  \n  \nEnough ranting, enjoy the story. ;o)  \n  \nÐrak  \n  \n  \n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*  \n  \nThis is a work of fiction. Any similarity between my characters  \nand living people is intentional (It's =my= fantasy!) and wouldn't be  \nnoticed by anyone other than those knowing me personally.  \nA few notes: I don't expect many to be familiar with the  \nsetting.... It's St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada: My home town. Also,  \nScreech is a type of dark Jamaican Rum popular here. It was apparently  \nnamed after the sound made by one of the first Newfoundlanders to drink  \nit straight.... But I digress....  \nAs this was my first work of fiction, I greatly appreciate any  \ncomments or criticisms you might offer. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy  \nit....  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*  \n  \n  \n\"...Perchance To Dream\"  \n  \nCopyright 1995 by Jonathan Martin ((C))  \n  \n\"You come here often buddy?\"  \nThe man across the bar from me was drunk, so I decided that  \nignoring him wouldn't be prudent.  \n\"I used to... haven't been here for a while though.\"  \nThat answer seemed to placate him, and he went back to his  \npint of Guinness.  \nIt was a Wednesday night; Talent Night here at the local  \nIrish pub. Two guys who couldn't have been much more than the  \nlegal drinking age were up on stage with a guitar and a fiddle,  \nenthusiastically belting out one of my favourite Stan Rogers  \ntunes. Actually it was by Archie Fisher, but I had a suspicion  \nthey were emulating Stan's version.  \n  \n\"Wet, rose she from the lake/and fast and fleet went she/  \nOne half the form of a maiden fair/with a jet-black mare's body\"  \n  \nI always thought those lyrics were a tad strange. That was a  \nthought, I told myself. They paled in comparison to my own  \nexperiences.  \nI laid a tip on the counter for the bartender, waved to the  \nmusicians on stage (They were pretty good, after all) and walked  \nout into the downtown night.  \nIt was strange how the lights of the dockyard gave an almost  \nsurreal air to the harbour. Almost as if the night was forever  \nhovering there over the South-Side hills, waiting for its chance  \nto roll in on the city through the protective bubble of mercury-  \nvapour lamps.  \nI turned and walked towards the west end of the city. It was  \nabout five kilometres to Bowering Park, where I met her every  \nSaturday.  \nI'd never really gotten over it. I still loved her, yet I  \noften despised her for what she'd become.  \n~ It just happened ~ was what she'd said.  \nThat was easy enough to believe. It wasn't as if any other  \nexplanation made sense. She'd just woken up one morning to find  \nthat her world had changed around her.  \nAnd I'd woken up beside her to find everything I'd held dear  \nwas gone....  \nI walked through the gates to the park, stopping for a  \nmoment to watch the ducks and swans fast asleep on the edge of  \nthe pond. I continued up the road, beneath the almost geological  \ncanopy of the trees, past the bronze statue of Peter Pan, erected  \nby a grieving Englishman in the memory of his drowned niece.  \nAs I walked, her face found its way into my mind. She was  \nbeautiful, though not in the way I had once thought. Damn! Why  \ndid I still meet her like this? Maybe I was a masochist. I'd have  \nto be, the way the sight of her drove white-hot needles of pain  \ninto my soul. I think seeing her perhaps gave me hope that my  \nchildhood dreams were possible after all, even if not to me. For  \nsome reason, that lessened the pain a little.  \nFurther up the path, the road gradually changed from a well-  \nkept paved strip to a worn maintenance track. Hopefully the local  \nteen alcoholics had packed it in for the night and were home  \nvomiting up their guts by now. I reached a small, overgrown  \nfootpath leading down to the Waterford River.  \nLooking around furtively, I ducked into the underbrush and  \nscrambled down to the bottom of the ravine. As I reached the  \nbottom, I made one last check to make sure there was nobody  \naround. I was beginning to care less and less about whether  \nanyone saw us. They probably wouldn't believe their eyes anyhow.  \nWalking to the waters edge, I sat down on one of the large  \nrocks that protruded into the river at irregular intervals. This  \ngorge was really a beautiful place. A carpet of rough grass grew  \nfrom near the shoreline and about 30 feet back gave way to a wall  \nof huge pine and elm trees which extended about 50 feet up  \nand bent inwards to almost meet the ones growing from the other  \nbank.  \nI was absentmindedly examining a vein of quartz in the rock  \nbeneath me when I heard the heavy backbeats of leathery wings  \nbehind me, followed by a soft thud. I was prepared for the voice  \nthat found its way into my head.  \n~Hello Robert~  \nI turned around slowly and faced the creature whom I had  \nonce called my wife.  \nAs with every time we met, I let my eyes survey her new  \nbody, starting with her eyes. They were luminescent, glowing a  \nsoft green in the 2:30 AM darkness. The ridges above them were  \npatterned with crests that met in the centre of her head in a  \ndesign resembling a medieval harp. Behind the eyes small horns  \npointed backwards, gently curving towards her back. Her short,  \nblunt snout ended in two small nostrils, below which fangs  \nprotruded from her upper jaw. Her chin curved gracefully inwards  \ntowards her not-overly-long neck. A horizontal pattern of scales  \nran from her upper neck down to between her legs, where it  \ncontinued along the length of her long, sinuous tail; a tail  \nwhich ended in a cluster of thin, stiletto-like spines. These  \nscales were mostly a shade of teal, while the scales which  \nensconced the rest of her were overall an exotic peacock, fading  \nto a rich of teal on the outsides. Mounted on her powerful  \nshoulders were her wings, folded almost flat against her back  \nwhere her dorsal ridges made a sort of path down towards her  \ntail. Her forelegs were powerfully muscled, almost exactly like  \narms, and were planted firmly in the ground between her  \nsimilarly-muscled legs, shiny grey talons clutching the earth as  \nshe crouched there before me.  \n\"Hello love....\" I had long ago stopped using her real name.  \nIt no longer seemed appropriate. My love for her, however, had  \nnever abated.  \nTears started to well up in my eyes, and I ran forward to  \nbury my face against her shoulder. She smelled wonderful, as  \nalways. I must have stayed there for about 15 minutes, tears  \nfalling from my eyes to cascade off her warm scales, my body  \nracked with fits of sobbing. I was almost oblivious to the  \ncoldness of her talons as they cradled my head and played with my  \nhair, her warm aromatic breath on my face.  \nFinally I disengaged myself and wiped off the tears.  \n~You know I still love you~  \n\"Yes... I do... and I love you too. It's just so difficult,  \nno, scratch that, it's bloody impossible.\"  \n~How do you think I feel? I have a child to raise~  \nI'd almost forgotten about that. She was pregnant with our  \nfirst child when she was changed. Somehow, the pregnancy  \ncontinued, albeit in an altered state and about 10 months later,  \nshe'd laid an egg about the size of a large watermelon. I'll  \nnever forget what it looked like. It was coloured the same as her  \nscales, but as if it were coated with watercolour paints, and  \nsomeone had smeared it with a wet cloth. At that point she was  \nliving in a rough-hewn cave outside of town which I had helped  \nher carve out of a cliff. As neither of us knew how long Dragon  \neggs took to hatch, I didn't see her much after that until about  \n3 weeks later when she managed to catch me with the good news by  \nthe river.  \nI had so far seen my son 3 times. Always as he slept, as  \nneither of us thought it would be a good idea show him a human,  \neven if it was his own father.  \n\"How is the little guy?\" I asked  \n~Pretty good. He spends more time awake now, so I won't be  \nable to see you as often.~  \nI recoiled at the thought. I sometimes wondered if the  \nweekly meetings weren't all that was holding me together.  \n\"I understand. Has he talked yet?\" We had assumed that since  \nshe could talk, then our son could as well, eventually.  \n~No. Not yet. I think he's more Dragon than I am. I'm  \nbeginning to doubt he ever will now.~ She must have interpreted  \nmy disappointed gestures correctly. ~Don't worry. I'm beginning  \nto get the hang of his body and pheromone signals. They're almost  \nas effective as spoken language~  \n\"That's good to know,\" I said sarcastically. \"At least one of  \nus may be able to bring up our child.\"  \n~Don't worry. What happened to me could possibly happen to  \nyou as well~  \nWistfully I replied, \"I'm not holding my breath. One out of 6  \nbillion aren't exactly great odds. You'd better go back to your  \ncave. Give him a hug for me.\"  \n~I will. 'Till next time, Dear Heart~  \n\"Yeah. ' Till next time....\"  \nShe turned abruptly, spread her great wings, and crouched  \nlow. In a single powerful motion, she was off the ground, wings  \ncatching the air, and then, gone.  \nI stared at the marks left by her talons in the grass, and  \nslowly turned to make my way home alone.  \n\n* * *\n  \nI awoke the next morning in my otherwise empty bed with a  \npounding headache. I probably shouldn't have drunk that bottle of  \nScreech and was most likely still drunk. I stumbled to the  \nbathroom and looked over my face in the mirror.  \nI was still human.  \nLike I expected THAT to change in the near future.  \nI also looked like Hell.  \nMy eyes were sunken into their sockets, and bloodshot to  \nboot. My beard needed to be trimmed badly and I was starting to  \ngrow a moustache. A trip to the cupboard for the clippers and my  \nrazor put a stop to that. The hot water made me feel almost  \nhuman. Hah! Just what I needed. I convinced myself that being a  \nraunchbag was NOT the way to solve my problems, then climbed into  \nthe shower.  \nAbout 20 minutes later, I stepped out of the shower and set  \nabout straightening up the mess that I called my home. I wondered  \nif her lair was as messy as this. I doubted it. After all, what  \nuse did she have for clothes, books or newspapers? I made a  \ndecent salary as a professional diver working for a small  \ncontracting firm, and for the large part, my disposable income  \nwent to decorating my house. There were dragons everywhere. On  \nthe wallpaper, the lamps, the end tables, and the walls. On the  \nwall opposite my bed stood a 3-foot high oil painting of  \nher. I had it done on commission from my descriptions, having  \ntold the artist they were from a dream. I still don't know why I  \nsurrounded myself with what had brought me so much sadness. I had  \nalways loved dragons before, and so had she. We had often  \nfantasized about giving up our human bodies, both of us flying  \noff to start a totally new life.  \nThe irony was disgusting.  \nNow I loved a dragon, and she was the one I loved.  \nI ate my dinner alone again that night, and drifted off to  \nsleep with her image in my mind.  \n\n* * *\n  \nA week later I was on the bank of the river again. This time  \nin the pouring rain. I doubted the drunks had been out at all.  \nThe lack of wind caused the rain to come straight down, and it  \nwasn't long before I was chilled to the bone, even though it was  \nthe middle of August. I was almost totally oblivious to the sound  \nof her alighting on the bank behind me, and so I fairly jumped  \nwhen she spoke.  \n~Not fit for man or beast tonight~  \n\"Then why are we both here?\" I replied with a hint of  \nsarcasm.  \n~What's wrong? You're not your usual chipper self~  \nObviously I wasn't the only one capable of being sarcastic.  \n\"Rough week at work, I guess. I had to spend quite a while  \nin emergency recompression with nothing to keep me occupied but a  \ncopy of Margaret Laurence's 'The Stone Angel'.\"  \n~Ouch~  \n\"I spent most of the time thinking of you, though. It hurt.\"  \nHer tone was almost angry this time. ~You've got to get on  \nwith your life. Things can never be like they were before, as  \nnice as that would be. You of all people should realize that~  \n\"I'm sorry. I shouldn't take it out on you.\"  \nAt this point she must have realized how wet I was, what  \nwith no coat of scales to keep me otherwise. She made a soft  \ncrooning sound and spoke again.  \n~You look like a drowned rat~  \n\"I spend most of my week like this, remember?\"  \nShe lay down on the bank and beckoned me with one of her  \ntalons.  \n~Come sit next to me~  \nI walked over and sat down beside her. She extended one of  \nher wings to give me a shelter and swung her head inside to face  \nme.  \n\"Thanks,\" I said, with real meaning.  \n~Anything for you, Love~  \nIt was then that I noticed something different about her.  \nThere were patches of skin peeling from her wings, and her scales  \nwere duller in places. There were pale spots on her flank where  \nwhole layers of the protective plates had disappeared.  \n\"What's wrong?\" I asked, somewhat alarmed.  \n~Oh, that?~ I detected a note of humour in the voice. ~If  \nyou can believe it, I think I'm moulting~  \nI laughed out loud and gave her eye ridges a loving rub.  \n~I've already lost about half the spines on my tail. That  \nshould throw some people for a loop if they find them~  \n\"I'll say.\"  \nI spent the next few hours there, tucked protectively under  \nher wing. We talked about old times, shared experiences, gains,  \nlosses, and how we had grown apart over the past two years.  \n~You really should get rid of that ring~ She tilted her  \nhead towards the simple band of gold which encircled my finger.  \n~It'll scare away any interested parties~  \n\"So would you.\"  \n~You know what I mean~  \n\"I could never see another woman as long as you're still  \nalive.\"  \n~And what if I met someone like myself, of the male  \ngender?~  \n\"Then you'd have my blessing. You have a child to raise.  \nBesides, I'm still technically married to you. It's totally my  \ndecision.\"  \n~I don't think they had this particular contingency in mind  \nwhen they wrote our marital vows~  \n\"Maybe not, but I'll always love you. 'Till death do us  \npart....\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; There was something sadder than normal about her parting  \nthat night. As she crouched to take flight, she turned and winked  \nat me, threw back her head, and bellowed incandescent flame high  \ninto the night sky. She knew that I found it emotionally  \nstirring. She exploded into the air and was gone in an instant. I  \nstood there, the rain once again soaking my clothes with nobody  \nto shelter me from it. Once more Alone.  \nSomething caught my eye on the ground. I walked over to  \ninvestigate, and discovered one of her tail spines. About a  \nfinger-width wide, and a little more than a foot long, it was  \ncoloured a beautiful royal purple, and tapered to a fine point.  \nI bent over to pick it up and turned away from the clearing.  \n  \n\n* * *\n  \nNext Saturday afternoon I was sitting in my armchair,  \nsipping a nice, warm mug of tea, when I remembered that the spine  \nwas still in my jacket. I pulled the jacket off the hook and  \nfished the curiosity out of it. Boy, that point was sharp! You  \ncould really do some damage with it if you weren't careful.  \nSuddenly my words from the week before came rushing into my  \nhead with piercing clarity.  \n\"'Till death do us part.\"  \nThe words echoed in my head, and I suddenly knew how to end  \nmy anguish.  \nI sat there for a moment, unable to believe I was actually  \ncontemplating what had come into my mind. A strange mixture of  \nfear and excitement seemed to stop my heart in my chest, and  \na ball of ice slowly materialized in my stomach.  \nWhat was I thinking?  \nI was thinking about unburdening the one I loved.  \nAnd myself as well.  \n\n* * *\n  \nI don't know exactly how long the drive was, but by the time  \nI got to the end of the road, my head was swimming with emotions  \nand thoughts dredged up by the time in the car. I had wrestled  \nwith my doubts, trying to find reasons not to do what I was about  \nto.  \nI could think of none.  \nAt the end of the gravel service trail I parked the car,  \npausing for a moment to get my head together. I wore only a pair  \nof black shorts, and a worn pair of runners. The precious spike  \nwas clutched in my hand. The keys to the car were tossed on the  \nfront seat, and the windows were rolled up. If anybody wanted the  \ncar, they could bloody well have it. With a final, gut-wrenching  \nglance at the direction which to me represented humanity, I  \nswallowed hard and set off into the woods.  \nI walked for hours, until the sun finally set below the  \nhills at my back, and then kept on walking. It was imperative  \nthat I made it before she set off on her weekly trip to the park.  \nAs I crossed the final half-kilometre of open headland before the  \ncoast, I could hear the rhythmic pounding of the waves on the  \nageless rocks below.  \nI had to be careful here. These cliffs were treacherous  \nunder the best of conditions, and now, covered with salt spray  \nfrom the North Atlantic, the simplest falter could be deadly.  \nFor the millionth time in the past couple of years, I wished for  \nwings, but that was foolish. If I had wings, I wouldn't be doing  \nthis.  \nFinally I was down on the ledge, facing the opening of her  \nlair. A faint glow emanated from the inside and I stood there  \nlistening. Silence. They must be asleep. I tiptoed inside, up the  \nincline to the small cavern that I had helped her sculpt.  \nCarefully I moved my head around the corner and watched the  \nsleepers.  \nThe smell of the place was beautiful, slightly different  \nthan her own smell, and I attributed it to the still bundle  \nasleep in the lovingly-constructed nest in the corner. The  \nremaining embers of a small fire glowed in the rough hearth, and  \nthrew a warm light over the chamber. The same light reflected  \nbeautifully off the myriad of peacock and teal scales as they  \nrose and fell in the rhythms of sleep.  \nTears again welled up in my eyes, and I had to make a  \nsupreme effort to keep from sobbing aloud. She would be waking  \nsoon, and I hadn't much time. I gave a silent final goodbye to  \nthe wife I could never wholly love, and my son, who would never  \nknow, nor understand who his father was.  \nMy family, estranged by fate.  \nGoodbye, my Love.  \nI went outside to the ledge, and raised the beautiful point  \nof the spine to my eyes. Silently, the wedding ring came off my  \nfinger and slipped over the tapered end of it. The band slid  \neasily all the way down before stopping at the end. A touch  \nconfirmed my suspicions.  \nIt was stuck fast.  \nThe tears stopped abruptly and I held that piece of her  \naloft. The starlight reflected off the gold momentarily, and then  \nit came down.  \nI felt the spine penetrating my chest, my now-dying body  \nrecording its passage with a strange sensation of not pain, but  \ncoolness. I felt life leaving me, and slumped over onto my knees.  \n\"So this is what it's like?\" I thought. The entrance to the cave  \nspun crazily in front of my eyes, and then the darkness that  \nensued when the last of the embers inside died spread outwards to  \nenvelop me.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Presently I was aware of a strange sensation. I was  \nsuspended over the mouth of the cave, looking down on my body. I  \nlooked at the crumpled heap that I had once inhabited, and almost  \nlaughed. So people had souls after all. I had often doubted that,  \nbut here I was dead, yet somehow existent. What now? I thought  \nhard and decided to wait until she emerged, not that I had much  \nof a choice in this form. I couldn't really seem to move and it  \nwould take me a while to get my bearings anyway. I really didn't  \nwant to see her reaction and I was hardly proud of my deed.  \n\"The act of a coward,\" I had always said. I just couldn't  \ntake it anymore.  \nThere was a scurrying inside the cave, and I was aware of  \nher moving in the short passage. She must have spotted the body  \nfrom about halfway out, because she was on the ledge almost  \ninstantly, bending over the broken form. She stood there  \nincredulously for a moment, then fell back on her haunches,  \napparently unable to believe what lay before her. She lovingly  \narranged the body, then pulled the spine from its resting place,  \nexamining the implement with which I had taken my final exit.  \nWhen she noticed the wedding band, she bowed her head and cried.  \nI'd never seen a dragon cry before, and it was the most  \nheart-wrenching thing I have ever experienced. For the first  \ntime, I was really ashamed of myself. As she sat there, her  \ngreat head jerked up and down erratically with draconic sobs.  \nTears formed in the corners of her eyes and fell to the rock with  \naudible plops. Without warning she threw back her head and roared  \nher anguish at the night sky. The sound was almost indescribable.  \nThe best I can do is that it was like someone had hit about  \neighteen keys on a pipe organ, all in a minor key and none the  \nleast bit chordal. It penetrated my airy form and a sent strange  \nsensation racing up my non-existent spine, radiating throughout  \nmy former extremities. I could stand to see this no longer. I was  \npast regret for what I had done, and now I hated myself. I had  \nthrown away my life and hurt the one I loved. I screamed in  \nanguish of my own, throwing what would have been my head back as  \nI did so.  \nWhen my gaze returned to her, she was staring in my  \ndirection, eyes wide.  \nGhosts! Of course! I was a ghost! Maybe If she could see me,  \nI could apologize to her, and somehow gain some small shred of  \npeace for my tortured soul. She was still looking at me in  \ndisbelief.  \nI made one motion toward her and was suddenly aware of a  \nweird feeling. I didn't expect moving like this would be that  \nhard.  \n~Ouch!~ I stubbed my toe on a rock.  \nWait.  \nBack up there.  \nI was a spirit.  \nOr was I?  \nI looked down at my feet, yes, my feet, and saw that they  \nwere covered with the same smooth scales hers were. I looked up  \nat my body and discovered that the rest of it was similarly  \nensconced.  \nMy hands.  \nThey were taloned, just like hers.  \nShe snapped out of her stupor and charged me, eyes glowing  \nwith a fire I had never seen. I tried to take a step away from  \nher, but my limbs were clumsy, and I fell onto my back. Before I  \nknew it, she was on top of me, her arms clutching me so tight I  \nfelt as if I would burst.  \n~I...~ the words tried to escape my muddled mind.  \n~Shhhhh...~ She silenced me and hugged harder. ~Don't wake  \nme up. This might be a dream~  \nI complied, and hugged her back as hard as I could with my  \nunfamiliar limbs.  \n~I'm sorry. I feel like such a cop-out~ I did.  \n~Well, Someone thought you did the right thing~  \nI hadn't yet thought about the how or why of the matter, as  \nI was still in shock. To this day I haven't really accepted a  \nsingle reason.  \nPerhaps Someone took pity on my anguished soul.  \nPerhaps it had something to do with where I got that spine I  \ndrove into my heart that August night.  \nMore likely to me, however, is the possibility that the  \nSoul has powers far beyond what we are presently aware of, and  \nthat somehow, I tapped into that power.  \nWe lay there, trapped in an embrace for what seemed like  \neons and my new body suddenly interpreted her scent for what it  \ntruly was:  \nLove.  \nHer love....  \nFor me.  \nShe helped me down onto the ledge and I looked at her for  \napproval for what I was about to do. She slowly nodded her  \nbeautiful head and I turned to push the body off the ledge and  \ninto the black darkness below.  \nWe stood there for a while, staring out over the ocean,  \nour bodies touching on the narrow shelf of rock. When we turned  \naround to retire to the cave, we discovered a tiny dragonet  \nsitting in the entrance. He looked up at his mother for  \nassurance, then eyed me suspiciously. Our eyes met, and I knew he  \nunderstood.  \n~D... D... Daddy?~  \nI nodded my approval, and the three of us walked into the  \ncave together.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;  \nEternally wishing for wings...  \n  \nJonathan C. Martin  \n  \n  \n[Don't ever stop, either! -ed]  \n  \n  \n  \n\n"}