Aaden moaned and tossed in his sleep.  He knew he was dreaming.  It was a dream he had often.  Someone was telling him goodbye and be well.  Someone gave him a warm embrace.  Someone cried as he turned away and headed into a mist filled garden.

 He wished that he could see their faces.  He wished he could hear what they called him.  Was it son?  Brother?  Why was he leaving?  If they wanted him to stay, why couldn’t he.  Someone he hardly recognized walked ahead of him, beckoning him onward.  He moved deeper into the garden, away from his well-wishers.

 Then there was fear and darkness.  There was pain and shame.  Why had he gone through the garden?  Why hadn’t he stayed where the people who cried for him were?  Who were they?

 Aaden woke with a start and forced himself as his master stirred beside him.  He closed his eyes and tried to compose himself as the man’s hand slid into his crotch.  Aaden closed his eyes and tried to return to his dream.  He rolled away from the clutching hand.  His master was asleep and wouldn’t know of the rejection.  In moments he was asleep as well, back among those who cared for him.

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