Dreamweaving

I got bored one day and started being existential. Then I decided to make it into a fiction. Enjoy this porn without plot.
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My name is Michael Reynolds.
I've always been different from others. For one, I'm a night owl. I have black hair, always wearing black clothes. At first sight, I'm slightly "emo," as people would have it. My nails aren't painted darker than the night, or at all, for that matter. My hair is naturally this color and black just happens to be my favorite color. Oh, and I can control dreams of others.
Sigmund Freud theorized that a person's true desires are reflected in dreams, even in subtle ways. I know for sure, he's wrong. When a person dreams about something, it becomes their desire. Dreams don't go away when we wake up either. They're just hidden beneath the surface. Every thought imaginable is, in a way, a form of a dream. If I decide to change that, I can make people see and feel something that doesn't exist. I'm not a saint, I can fuck them mentally as well, and it's a pasttime to me. Here, let me try to explain this better...
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Michael sat in his Spanish class, blended in with the middle of the room. Word conjugates in foreign languages failed to keep him amused.
'It's my senior year but nothing's happening."
Venessa Nguyen, a girl in the corner of the class, was asleep. She was 5'4", with black hair and glasses. It was the perfect chance to take advantage of her unconscious mind. He focused himself away from his body and into her mind.
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Every dream was a seperate world with seperate Physics, Chemistry and Values based on belief. If someone assumed that objects burn due to phlogiston, it would be true in their mental world. The owners of their worlds are comparable to the Orwellian Proles, where the truth becomes what they believe.
Michael's power could be likened to Big Brother, or God. He does not need to believe to make it a reality.
Venessa's mind was layered with books. Michael walked in that world, curious for more. Venessa was at her table, reviewing the current class' notes, which were cut off during the moment of sleep. Michael focused on the atmosphere to make it feel more sexually inclined. There was no way to describe a power to change the atmosphere, but Venessa felt the effects.
She stripped until she was only wearing her jeans and panties. Every book around her changed to become erotic literature to reflect he mindset.
Michael called out to her.
"Venessa." She turned around, holding pens between her fingers.
"Don't talk, I'm busy." It was a typical dream answer. While in a dream, a person cares about themselves, not what people care about them.
She unzipped her jeans and took them off. Then she pressed the pen inside of herself. The emotions rose on her face. He took advantage of the moment to slide a vibrator inside with the pens and woke her up.
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As Venessa woke up, she knew something was wrong. She had the sensation of an object inside of her and vibrating.
To be continued