Dreams Come True
“… and for the next three days, all of your dreams will come true.” Madame Helga concluded before hiding her wrinkled hands under the circular table.
“Seriously? That’s what you’re going for?” Walter asked, cornflower eyes unable to contain his obvious disdain at her ‘prediction’.
“The cards have spoken.” The European fortune-teller replied. “All I did was listen. It’s not my fault you don’t like it.”
“You just spewed a lot of cliches and that ‘dreams come true’ was the icing on the cake. Do people really believe that shit?”
“Those who are smart believe what I say, yes. I’m sorry you’re not one of them.”
“Oh, I’m smart enough, Lady. I make a living debunking frauds like you and guess what? Your ugly mug will be all over my next article.”
“Do as you wish.” The sexagenarian was not impressed. “But pray you have pleasant dreams in the meantime.”
“Are you threatening me?” Walter stood up and angrily kicked the table.
“We’re done.” The woman ignored his tantrum. “Please leave. I have real customers waiting.”
“Not for long, I promise you.” The irate blogger kicked the table again and darted out of the incense-filled room, eager to type his new piece.
Over the last three years, he had built quite the following, pursuing conspiracy theories and living frauds all over the country. His favorites were snake oil salespeople with televised presence and anyone that claimed to have a direct link to the supernatural world for a hefty sum of money. Madame Helga was but one of the many sick women he had encountered. He knew it in his bones that the only thing real about her was her thick accent and, after their ‘session’, he had plenty of evidence to prove it.
Rushing home, he went straight to his laptop and feverishly typed everything on his mind, sparing no words or insults. When he was done, he knew he had a winner on his hands and finally crashed in bed, as happy as he could be.
And on that first night, he dreamed of his old high school sweetheart, Becky Valenti and her juicy G-cup breasts. He dreamed of re-enacting their favorite sexual positions while she giggled and begged for more. It was a wonderful dream and his cock agreed, demanding he started the weekend scrubbing his balls extra carefully to remove all specks of dried cum from his pubes.
After the long morning shower, the bell rang and there she was by the door, going forties, yet still rocking leather mini-dresses like no other. The dirty blonde had lust written all over her body, and her opening statement couldn’t be clearer.
“Hey, stud. Long time no see. I was in the neighborhood and dropped by to see if you were as horny as I am and that towel around your waist is telling me everything I wanted to know. How about having some fun for old time’s sake?”
Walter was shocked, yet he embraced the challenge, hours of stamina put to good use without a single complaint. It was a funny coincidence but nothing more. Madame Helga wouldn’t have the last laugh.
After Becky got tired and left, promising to return some other time for another round, he returned to his article, added a few extra paragraphs at the end and finally published it, comments and likes immediately. The day ended with an old Bond movie and a good old wanking before the oniric world took over once more.
And on that second night, he dreamed of lottery numbers. The prize money was enough for him to pay the mortgage in full, buy a new car, and not worry about food for decades. Many times he had tried to receive Luck’s blessing, to no avail. Could things really be different this time?
The following morning, he put the theory to the test, a single bet for the extraordinary draw taking place later in the day. He waited patiently for the golden wheels to spin and when they finally did, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped to the floor. The seven-digit sequence was an exact match to his wildest aspirations and life would never be the same. He could barely keep his excitement in check and stopped trying the moment he emptied the second wine bottle.
At the same time, he regretted being so rude to Madame Helga. Two out of two was more than a coincidence. She was the real deal, and he had to make amends. He started by unpublishing his article, warning his audience he had made a mistake. Then, he made plans to see her the next day, hoping the hangover from his alcoholic celebration wouldn’t be unbearable. After all was said and done, he primed his mind to dream only of good things and finally fell asleep.
His ecstatic joy was shattered the moment he woke up and saw the skies ablaze by thousands of mind-flaying alien spaceships that had just arrived to enslave the Earth.
