Tale of the Gifted Beings

chapter 18

chapter 18

THE DREAM ALWAYS BEGAN the same way. I found myself immersed in the inky abyss of emptiness. Opening my eyes, I was greeted by total blackness, so dense that it felt like a velvet curtain had fallen around my existence. I often wondered if this was what a void felt like—the absence of anything and everything. It felt like being marooned in an ocean of nothingness, devoid of color, shape, or form.

My feet padded against an unseen ground, the sensation cold like marble. I began to walk aimlessly in search of the one thing I knew existed in this black void—the house.

Despite the all-encompassing darkness, I could sense my surroundings. The air was still, so still it was as if time had stopped and had frozen in its tracks. The silence was deafening, my own heartbeat drumming a rhythm in my ears. My monologue echoed in the empty expanse, with each syllable I uttered lingering in the air before being swallowed whole by the oppressive silence. "Empty," I murmured to myself, the word bouncing back at me like a mocking echo. "So utterly empty."

I then waited for the Victorian house to appear. A tingle ran down my spine as I continued to wait. A cold shroud of dread settled around my shoulders. Suddenly, I felt a presence before I looked back. I reluctantly turned around, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest.

I didn't see the house, though. However, he was there. I mean, of course it was the man who constantly pops in my dream. His features were as familiar as before as if nothing has changed. The moonlight, somehow weirdly present in this void, played on his face, casting shadows that danced around his nose, down to his strong jawline, and around his high cheekbones. His lips, framed by a newly grown mustache, curled into a familiar smile. His long and dark hair cascaded down onto his shoulders, an unruly waterfall that was so familiar.

He stood there, his silhouette outlined against the black void, wearing a blazer that seemed to absorb the darkness around it. The fabric had a sheen that gleamed under the ethereal light, making him look like a phantasmal figure straddling the line between dream and reality. His eyes, however, were the most captivating. They were a stormy mix of gray and green, swirling with an intensity that held an inexplicable allure. He looked at me, his gaze soft yet piercing, as if he were peering through my very soul.

And then he extended his hand. I hesitated at first, glancing at his outstretched hand, then back at his face. Shaking off my apprehension, I reached out, letting my hand fall into his. His grip was warm, a clear difference to the icy coldness of the emptiness. And as our fingers intertwined, the darkness around us began to shimmer, pulsating with an unseen energy.

I continued following him as he lead me somewhere. I squinted, and saw nothing aside from him. I glared at him intently and observed his feature, his face illuminated solely by the faint, ghostlike smile he was wearing.

"Who really are you?" I asked, my voice bouncing off the void surrounding us.

As if my frustration were a song to his ears, he didn't respond. Rather, he continued leading me somewhere in the almost endless darkness.

"Why do you keep appearing in my dreams?" my voice echoed, ricocheting off the unseen black walls of this dream world. "What is your connection to Lucy, Leo, Augustus, and Miss Alice?" I asked, my voice growing louder with each name, my mind painting their faces in the blackness. I could almost see them—images of my waking world imprinting themselves in this dream realm.

"Who are you?!"

He remained silent, as still as a statue, as if he were carved from stone. His only response was the soft whisper of his voice, cryptic words that floated through the oppressive darkness. "Everything will make sense, Prim. As much as I wanted to tell you everything, I just can't."

Frustration bubbled inside me, a simmering cauldron threatening to boil over. He was a cryptogram in human form, his every word a cipher waiting to be decoded. With a sigh, I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of my unanswered questions pressing down on me. I felt small and insignificant, a single star in a universe of infinite darkness.

"Who am I?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "And why is my reality a question? Why do I feel like a stranger in my own life?"

The man remained silent, his faint smile the only break in the overwhelming darkness. As I stood there, eyes closed, the darkness enveloping me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over me. Perhaps it was the silence, the tranquility of the void, and the emptiness of the abyss. Perhaps it was the man. Or perhaps it was me, asking questions to a man who might not even exist, seeking answers from a world that might be nothing more than a dream.

But as I opened my eyes, staring at the man, I felt a familiar crushing weight of despair and loneliness. I then paused, caught off guard, my tear-streaked face reflecting in the eerie luminescence of his eyes. Something about his presence—a deep resonance that echoed in the emptiness—stopped my sobbing.

I stood up, my legs shaky, and followed him. The darkness was thick as tar, wrapping around me like a blanket. Yet, it was in this desolation that we walked, his form a wraith-like warning fire guiding me through the murk.

As if a veil had been lifted, figures started to emerge nearby. They were like ethereal shadows, their forms wavering yet strangely comforting. A bizarre landscape unfolded before me: children playing, matrons assisting the young ones, and a massive Victorian house.

Among the children were a group of gifted beings, each with peculiar abilities that defied the normalcy of reality. A boy levitating a few inches off the ground, a young woman who could manipulate fire, darting sparks off her fingertips, an old man who whispered to the wind, the breeze responding to his hushed commands. I was no longer surprised at the sight, though. However, the man who led me here began to speak. His voice was a gentle rumble, like distant thunder, carrying an undercurrent of urgency.