Caleb shut and locked the door when he managed to make it home. He was hungry, exhausted, and sore. All he really wanted to do was go to bed. After all, he had a dream-lover he was aching to see again. If his tired imagination would humor him, he'd maybe get off in this dream.
Scampi yowled at him, demanding a full bowl, and Caleb was feeling a little more human and less a pincushion by the time he settled on the couch with a beer and some supper. He spent a good hour mindlessly watching television, losing himself in the dramatic world of a small town. Caleb hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until Scampi jumped into his lap, pawing at his hands and demanding attention.
"All right, all right," he said between yawns. "Bedtime. I get it, Scamps. Let's go."
Caleb quickly stripped down and crawled into bed. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep. He knew he was asleep, even as he dreamed. It was a strange, awkward knowledge, sitting up in his bed in the dream while he knew he was still in bed, asleep.
"Again I ask, does it matter?"
Caleb turned his head toward the door. Leaning against the jam, in all his naked glory, was Morpheus. Caleb took his time looking, eyes sweeping from head to toe, lingering on the lax sex resting against hairless skin. "Is this real?" he asked, voice rough as he raised his eyes to meet Morpheus'.
"It is as real as I make it."
