A cry is still lodged in my throat when I wake, and I quickly cover my mouth, not wanting to accidentally make any noise and cause my roommate to wake.
I've gone mad.
Certifiably insane.
Or worse—-
I've become a god-awful pervert, to actually have wet dreams over a beast.
Even now, my body is still shamefully on fire, and I hate how every second of my dream is still vivid in my mind.
I've had crushes here and there, but never to the point that I've started having wet dreams about a guy. I've never even been tempted to ask for a guy's socials, for crying out loud.
But now this.
The beast in the labyrinth had filled me with fear when I saw it for the first time. So why has that terror turned into something sordid and forbidden?
Outside my window, the skies remain dark and cloudless. A quick check on my phone tells me it's just a quarter past five in the morning. I should probably go back to sleep, but when I think about the possibility of dreaming the same dream again...
Nope, nope, nope.
I get out of bed and grab my toiletry bag from the walk-in closet. Rosethorne's library is supposedly open 24/7, and it's my best bet to get the answers I need. I'm not expecting much, but surely...surely there has to be a book about unwanted gods showing up in people's dreams?
The shower room is empty as I expected, and I allow myself to take my time and enjoy the hot water streaming down my body. It's when I start soaping myself that my mind suddenly betrays me, and I find myself recalling the phantom pleasure I experienced under the mysterious shroud of my dreams.
Shit.
I quickly open my eyes, but it's now my body that betrays me, with my nipples turning rigid with unwelcomed arousal. I want to touch myself. Badly. But I don't. I can't. I mustn't.
Because in this world that I was born to, you never know when and where a god is watching you. You never know what that god would do if you revealed your weakness to their eyes. You're always better off not trusting a god, and as I'm more determined than ever to keep my life normal and divineless as possible—-
Shiiiiiiit!
A quick flip of the controls has the water turning from steaming hot to cold, and it's like suddenly being dunked in the icy waters of the Arctic Ocean. My teeth start chattering, and I feel like my fingers and toes are about to fall off at any second. Even so, I just grit my teeth and wait until the freezing-cold water does its job.
Most girls might sell their souls just to date a god, but I'd rather die a virgin. The divine is for the divine, humans are for humans, and anyone who thinks otherwise is just damning themselves with inevitable heartbreak.
AFTER BREAKFAST a la vendo, I make my way to the library, which - according to my handy dandy app-based map, is just three blocks away.
The streets are just as empty as they were last night, and now that I think of it, I haven't bumped into anyone either in Dark Rose House. Considering how weekends are the only times students are allowed to go off campus, maybe that's why Rosethorne seemed like a ghost town ever since I arrived?
The thought that it's just me and a few students in this huge, huge place makes me shiver, and the morning breeze that suddenly sweeps past me at that moment only makes things worse. I already have an oversized cardigan over my turtleneck and dress pants, but I still feel painfully underdressed for the weather.
If this is already how it is in late summer, I'll be one frozen duck come winter, and lesson truly learned: when crowdsourcing online for winter wear in Vermont, make sure to also mention you were born and raised in California. I've bought and brought everything I was advised to, but the East Coast folks I chatted to clearly have a different understanding of what's "suitable" defense against the cold.
By the time I reach Rosethorne's library, I'm practically hugging myself to death just to keep my body temp from dropping. On any other day, I would've spent more than a few moments just to feast my eyes on its architectural magnificence. But right now, all I care about is keeping myself from turning into an icicle, and I sigh in relief when room-temp air welcomes me as soon as I'm past its front doors.
The librarian working behind the counter looks friendly enough, and so I take my chances and ask rather awkwardly if they've any books about dreams and gods.
"Dream interpretation or dream crafting?"
"Uh..." Her words throw me off for a sec (dream crafting???), and I have to give myself a mental shake before telling her I'd appreciate a beginner's guide to dream interpretation.