My Sleeping Sister

As identical twins, we were inseparable, right up until the age of seventeen. That's when I got a boyfriend called Brad. Brad was rude, callous and slightly vindictive. And also impossibly good looking. So, after three months of Katie bitching about how bad he was to me, it came as a bit of a shock when I came home from college one afternoon to find Katie at home with him. Of course that would have been bad enough; him having told me that he was away and all. But I suppose the real shock came when I opened my bedroom door and saw my sister taking the length of his cock into her mouth. Things got a little difficult after that. So difficult that it made life hell at home and at college. Katie and I had a fight about it, then cooled off almost immediately; reminding each other that as twins we were closer to each other than anyone or anything. Besides, we both knew it was Brad's fault, seducer that he was. Of course that truce didn't last. Every few weeks I would get horribly depressed; the vision of my ex boyfriend fucking the face of my twin sister dominating my thoughts. I would go quiet, then lash out at Katie and anyone else close to me, and change the furniture in my room in an effort to erase the memory. I also did what I could to change myself from my twin; throwing out most of the clothes I had that were identical to Katie's. Although not mad enough to adopt a goth lifestyle, I started to wear darker colours, and more outrageous outfits. Clothes that were tight around my tits and ass; porno-quality dress wear, as Katie once told me. I also cut short my once long red hair into a short-backed bob, and dyed it blonde. Eventually, Katie knew that something had to give and, several months later, used some saved-up money to move out of home into a flat on the other side of town. The last word she heard from me was "Bitch" as the door closed behind her.

This story could have ended there, with not much to tell about what happened next. It could have turned into a very maudlin tale about depression and sadness; eighteen months is a long time not to see or talk to someone who you've previously shared your whole life with. When we were younger, we used to play games of marriage; swapping the role of 'mom' and 'dad', but always keeping each other together. We just assumed that we'd always be together, whatever happened. And now it was like we had divorced. Irreconcilable differences, you could say. Even though I thought about her a lot (and I dare say she did the same), my story could have ended there, had it not been for the dreams.

A year and a half after the incident; almost a full twelve months since Katie had left home and we'd last spoken to each other, I went to bed after a full night out with some friends. I'd actually had a good time, and hadn't thought about Katie all night. But when I got home, and got to bed, the dream I had was as vivid and clear as reality itself. It started in a park I didn't recognise on a beautiful summer's day; some children were playing on some swings and slides, moms were walking babies in prams as men and women jogged past in sweat pants and t-shirts. Some suited office workers sat on park benches sipping lattes and cappuccinos. And Katie was walking along a path, talking to someone on her cellphone. She looked happy, and gorgeous. Her long copper hair bobbed gently below her shoulder blades as she walked; white vest-top and joggers/trainers making her look both athletic and relaxed. Her pale skin warmed easily in the heat of the sun and a generous sprinkling of freckles dotted her nose and cheeks (just as it would mine). I remember feeling strangely at ease watching her; interested in how she was and what she was doing, where she was going and who she was talking to. She looked happy, and was smiling and laughing with the person at the other end of the call. I wondered who it was; who it could be who was making my beautiful sister look and act so happy. In my dream I felt a wave of emotion sweep over me; emotion and feeling for my sister that I'd denied and suppressed for so long.

I was beginning to wonder if the dream would let me talk to her, let me do in dreamscape what I couldn't do in real life, when a man stepped out from under the branches of a tree and confronted her. Katie stopped, somewhat startled, and managed a nervous smile. The man reached into the belt of his dark trousers and took out a huge six inch hunting knife. The blade gleamed perfectly in the daylight, even though he seemed to be shrouded in some kind of dream-mist. Katie stared, horrified and fascinated as the man turned the knife one way then the other in front of her face. With his free arm, the man snaked a hand behind Katie's head and held her by her hair. Then he stepped closer to her and lined up the knife against her chest. The world continued around them in my dream, other people walking past and getting on with heir lives; not noticing the danger this slim young woman was in. Katie kept on staring at the blade; watched it in horror as the man began to push the knife against her; piercing the flesh of her breast. He leaned forward, driving the weight of the knife into her chest. I heard the sickening crunch of bone grinding and snapping under metal and there wasn't any blood, no blood at all, as he sliced the blade into my sister's heart.

I woke up, stifling a cry, covered in a cold sweat. I sat there; alone in my room, shivering for nearly twenty minutes as I tried to calm the racing beat of my heart. My sister had died, had been murdered. My own twin, who I hadn't spoken to in a year and a half; who I hadn't seen for long months on end. She just popped up out of nowhere in a happy dream and was killed in front of me. I sat there, clutching my heart at the point where the murderer's knife was pushed into Katie's chest, feeling the horrible pain of watching my twin die. I suddenly wanted to see and speak to her; right there and then. I wanted to put my arms around her, hold her close to me and make sure she was alright. Eventually, my own heart still racing faster than normal, I sank back onto the bed with that thought of reconciliation in my head drifting restlessly back into a dreamless sleep.

I woke up feeling terrible; as though I hadn't slept at all. The dream had disturbed me a lot during the night, but in the cold light of day it didn't seem so bad. In fact, some part of my stubborn pride felt a bit foolish for caring so much about the sister who had betrayed me. The dream preyed on my mind most of the morning, but by lunchtime I had moved on to other thoughts. That evening I went out for a few drinks with my friends and didn't think anything of it. I went home (a little drunk, and having had more than one stranger's tongue politely invade my mouth), and went to bed; falling into a black, dreamless sleep. For the next five nights I played out the normal routine of my daily life; struggling at the Marketing firm where I worked, enjoying the evenings out with friends and time at home to myself. I had nothing to particularly worry me. My sleep had become a blur to me; a black nothingness during which I switched off then returned to the world a few hours later.

Then, one week exactly from the nightmare I had about my sister, I went to bed early after watching some TV. Almost immediately, the dream began, plunging me into a vivid and vibrant world.

It was a cold, crisp winter's day by the shore of a picture perfect Alaskan lake. A mountain range formed a spiky backbone to the landscape in the distance and the dazzling white of the freshly-laid snow was offset by the unblemished blue of the sky overhead. The surface of the lake was a tarnished mirror to all around it, broken only occasionally by the wake of some arctic birds, or schools of fish rising to the surface in their manouvres. Set against this, the four-lane highway running alongside the lake was a strange tarmac ribbon invading the otherwise unspoilt landscape. A few meters off the shore, fifty meters from a well-used lay-by, Katie was sitting in front of an elaborate easel; paintbrush clenched between her teeth as she took the measure of her next brush-stroke for the painting in front of her. Katie had always been an artist; doodling on paper, card, even walls wherever she could. But this was something special. Her painting was a magnificent impressionist portrait of the land around her; rendered in oils of sublime and perfectly-matched colours. She was wearing a thick jumper with tight jeans and boots to keep her warm. A flask with some steaming liquid sat beside the stool where she had set up her spot to create the painting. Her long, wavy copper-red hair was unbound and fell like a cascade of golden sunshine around her face. She plucked the paintbrush from her mouth and drew a careful line across the oil-rendered mountain on the canvas in front of her. Behind her, on the roadway, several cars zoomed past on their no-time-to-lose journeys. Satisfied with the stroke she'd just made, Katie turned her head and smiled at nothing in particular; dazzling the scene just a little bit more. She looked beautiful, dressed in tight jeans and thick boots, a long jersey covering her arms and body with another body warmer clasped tight around her torso to keep out the cold. She worse fingerless gloves to warm her hands from the cool air and the red of her painted fingernails looked like tips of flame on the ends of her hands.

The view in my dream shifted to a car; once sleek and grey but now a dark, battered vehicle, surrounded by a swirling smoky nimbus as it thundered along the road towards the spot where Katie sat. Impotent within my dream, I could do nothing, offer no warning to the danger this car represented. Nothing in the scene had changed but I knew, knew with a certainty that I couldn't ignore, that this car was a great threat to my sister. My view of the dream shifted higher, and I was able to pick out the grey car speeding around the wide, gentle curves of the road toward the spot where my sister sat. Katie continued working on her picture, oblivious to the danger approaching behind her. The car turned the last corner and into view of Katie's spot. She turned, spotted it. In my dream I felt a thud of joy; run Katie! Run from the car!

Katie flashed another smile then turned back to her work. The car levelled out toward the spot where Katie sat, drifting slowly across the road into the opposite lane. I tried desperately to think of some way, any way, to warn my sister of the danger. But she was oblivious. Even when the car careened off the tarmac and onto the gravel of the ground beyond it, bumping and jolting its momentum, she didn't even flinch. Only at the last moment, when it was far far too late, did she turn and realise the danger. A look of fear and horror crossed over her face as the car drove straight in to her. The dream slowed considerably. I watched in heart-pounding horror as the car ploughed into my sister as she made to stand up from the stool she sat on. The centre of the front bumper connected into her midriff with a sickening crunch, snapping her fragile spine as it drove her forward. One of her feet got caught underneath the traction of the car and was ripped noisily from her leg. Her body doubled from the impact and her head smashed against the bonnet of the car. Blood splattered in all directions from the multiple impact wounds she suffered as the car continued to drive Katie into the ground. The speed of the impact and the position she was hit kept Katie stuck to the front of the car, as though she had been nailed there. The car plunged into the cold lake waters, driving Katie under the surface. Blood and bubbles churned up the lake as the car dragged itself over the broken, drowning body of my sister.

I woke up, screaming, and covered in a cold sweat. The images of my dream played again and again through my head and I struggled to breathe as my chest felt like it had been constricted. Shaking, coughing, I sat in bed with my hands over my face and sobbed uncontrollably until I had exhausted myself and fell back onto the sheets.

I could not go into work the following day. I looked at myself in the mirror when I'd finally woken and got out of bed. It seemed as though I had aged several years, or had been suffering a long illness. My skin was a pallid grey that no amount of blusher would disguise. My eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. As I stood at the bathroom mirror, recounting the details of the dream, I started to feel physically sick. The dream held unusually vivid memories of every moment; every image I had experienced; replayed for me in every conceivable angle so that I would see the full horror of my sister's murder. I showered, willing away the memories of my dreams as the hot soapy water caressed me. After my shower, I spent the day cocooned in a towelling robe searching through the possessions in my flat for any pictures I had of Katie.

There weren't many. I had decided not long after Katie left home that I would destroy many of the older pictures of us together; right from early ones of us in identical clothes and outfits up to more recent ones of us as emerging adults.. But I managed to find one picture of us together when we'd been cheerleaders for our school football team a couple of years earlier. It was a picture taken by the coach following a successful match against a rival school. Everyone was on a high as we celebrated this momentous school win. As identical twins, we were star attractions within the cheerleader squad. Of course, we'd both made the effort to look good, with lots of make-up and just enough cleavage at the time to make the tight crop-tops catch all the eyes. We had our arms around each other's waists, free hands holding pom-poms high in the air. I clutched on to the photo; clung to it as though it was the only real link left between me and my estranged sister. I felt tears rolling down my cheek; stinging tears of sorrow, regret and longing. I was desperate to see Katie; hold her hand and hug her close enough to feel her heartbeat. Make sure she was alive and well. Slipping the photo inside my towelling robe, I held the photo of us together against my chest, pressing the laminated paper against the skin of my breast, feeling my own heartbeat thud against it.

After a few moments, I managed to calm myself a little. The photo felt warm against my skin and I imagined it was Katie herself, rather than a piece of laminated memory, that was touching me. I felt a sensation, something as close to erotic as can otherwise be described, steal over me. On impulse, I picked up my cellphone and dialled Katie's number. I just needed to hear her voice. The phone rang, then switched to voicemail.

"Hi this is Katie. I'm not here 'cos I'm in Malibu shooting my next Hollywood blockbuster. Leave the you-know-what."

I ended the call. Just hearing her voice, tinny and electronically processed, was some kind of reassurance. I dialled the number again and this time left a message.

"Katie, hi it's me; Cassie. I, um. I just wanted to say hello. I didn't know if you had my number, but you can follow this one. I, um, I just wanted to see if you're okay. Call me."

I kept the phone close to me all day, but Katie didn't call back.

I hate to say it, but I used the opportunity of the rest of that afternoon and evening to get horribly drunk. So drunk, in fact, that I fell into a stupor not long after nightfall. I didn't remember anything prior to that, no recollection of going to the bathroom or eating any food, no memory of getting undressed or crawling into bed, but I knew I was asleep because the next thing I remembered seeing was Katie; looking utterly gorgeous in an elegant green cocktail dress that perfectly matched the kettle-drum copper of her red hair. She was standing by a large spiral staircase in a grand house and a party was going on all around her. She swept into a ballroom where lots of people were dancing, and began to join them. In my dream I watched her dance and saw how happy she was; throwing smiles around with carefree abandon. Several people waved hello to her or mouthed out a greeting, and Katie acknowledged each gesture. As one song ended, she was called over to the edge of the room by a petite blonde woman who, against the trend of formality, was wearing trousers, shirt and tie. She was strikingly attractive, with large green eyes and full red lips. High cheekbones and clever make up gave her a very feminine appeal, despite the masculine clothes she wore and short haircut she sported. She had a predatory smile; very alluring, and carried herself with the utter confidence of a businesswoman in her thirties who had made a success of her life. Katie eased her way across to the woman and they kissed cheeks as they began to talk. The blonde woman pointed to a set of French doors and Katie nodded. In my dream I followed the two as they left the room through the French doors, which led out onto a balcony. It seemed a warm night but there must have been a strong breeze because Katie shivered a little. The green dress she wore was beautiful and silken but did not cover her arms or shoulders. She rubbed her arms a bit, but continued smiling and talking to the blonde woman.

I felt no sense of danger in this dream, and marvelled at it. If anything, I felt an unusually strong bond toward my sister; a bond I'd never really enjoyed when we lived together. Katie and her friend continued talking but the blonde woman kept looking over Katie's shoulder, peering into the ballroom as though checking to see if someone were there. Katie shivered again, and the blond woman shrugged off her jacket, offering it to my sister. The blonde woman had a very tight shirt on, and it showed every curve of her slim torso. Katie accepted the jacket and let the blonde woman help to put it on her. When Katie had both arms inside the jacket sleeves, the blonde woman moved a little closer to her and said something through half-closed lashes. Katie stopped herself and looked at the other woman. Then she half turned her head. When she turned back, the other woman had moved even closer to her so that the two rubbed noses. I watched Katie close her eyes and tilt her head the opposite way to the blonde woman as their lips met and they shared a soft kiss. Watching my sister kiss another woman in the dream was a shock, but more than that was the utter relief I felt that in this dream Katie was not in any danger.

The blonde woman slipped her hands inside the jacket she'd just given to my sister, and carried on kissing her. Katie pulled away momentarily, glancing behind to see if anyone was there, but was pulled back into a much deeper, passionate kiss. She eased her arms around the blonde woman's neck and leaned closer into the embrace. I was acutely aware of every detail in that embrace; how Katie accepted the other woman's lips, how she knotted her fingers into the short hair of the other woman, and how she arched her back at the fingertips pressing against her. I was also aware of how turned on I was becoming in my dream state observer role. I felt horny in a way I hadn't felt for a long time, and caught myself staring longingly at the passion my own sister was displaying. Through momentary breaks in the kiss, when Katie and the blonde woman would tilt heads the opposite way, I could see their tongues rolling around in each other's mouths. I was so focussed on the eroticism of that scene that I barely saw the shadow fall over my sister from behind. But it was the blonde woman who gave it away. Just as the passion between her and my sister was reaching new heights, with the blonde woman's hands roving, kneading and caressing Katie's breasts and body, she opened her eyes and stared deliberately over toward the shadow in the background. She winked, deliberately, over Katie's shoulder and I saw in the background the glint of a serrated knife.