The Dreams That Were Dreamt

Chapter Fourteen: Figure In The Woods

I see the woman from the helm of the table again. She is lying on a bed. Her eyes are open but not she is not breathing. Another hand is caressing hers. The other hand runs their fingers up and down her knuckles. One night was all she lasted. When the last key of the melody still echoed in the garden house and stuck to the ivy climbing the walls, time was still. The pain of losing a loved one was ever so present. I see her body floating down a stream, only halted by what the beavers had built. There are other bodies following hers; bodies I cannot yet see the faces of.

This isn't a place where you come to live. This is a place where you come to die. Those were the words that struck a chord in me long after they were spoken. They were spoken by the woman who felt like closer to the core than anyone. Who were you? I could lie here letting my eyes open and close for an eternity. I won't be able to collect the information from the particles of dust in the air. 

Awakening and not knowing what the face of the clock will tell is a special kind of feeling. Even more special is the feeling when the light of day isn't a reliable indicator. Light felt like it was some sort of mistake. It was always grey; light grey turning into grey with a cold filter turning into dark grey. Outside was where quiet grew, in weak and meagre soil.

Roger? He's not here. The skin memory of his hand in mine still feels fresh though. He had gotten up and exited the stage without ever waking me up. Was I in that deep of a sleep? Deeper than I thought. He had left a note by my side. My chest tighten as I read it. The initial reaction was one that had been accumulated over several years. It was one of learning to recognize patterns that previously had led to pain. 'Going to the city. Will be back tonight. Eat something.' Going back to the city? I didn't know what to make of it. Why hadn't he asked me to come with him? I wasn't ill anymore. I could have gone with him. Scenarios of disaster played like movie trailers in my mind. He wasn't coming back. He had left forever. I was going to starve out here. I was going to get lost in the woods trying to find a home that didn't exist. My legs would break. I could feel my temples starting to water. I get cold. No. Snap out of it Aaron, I tell myself. You're being ridiculous. You don't know that. 

Trust, trust was a funny thing. Once tarnished it never seemed to be able to repair itself. It was a fissure in the chest where the strings tying the pieces together were the consistency of bubble gum. I had been deceived before. You would be a fool not to recognize the sequences that possibly could be the ramifications of deceit. But going on living and believing that every truth possibly could be a lie was in many of times like jamming a stick into the wheel of the bike you were mounted on. He had said that he wasn't going anywhere. He had looked me in the eyes when saying it. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling. Was there some satisfaction in being wronged and right? Some, perhaps. Was the constant worrying worth it? I'm not sure. You can't control the actions of others, only how you choose to deal with it. Finding peace in all the possible forkings of life was something easier said than done. Projecting worries of the past onto Roger wasn't fair. Nevertheless and inescapably so, it was how my mind had learned to operate.

When the light finally reached you, will you find peace in your heart? Away I pushed those thoughts. Let us do what we can to find some peace of mind. As if it was the creaking of the bed frame that straightened my back, I sit up. As soon as the top of my head connects to an invisible string in the ceiling an abhorrent headache hits me out of nowhere. It hits me so hard that I have to close my eyes for a few seconds to try and mitigate the pain. That never works. I get out of the bed and run into the kitchen. I try to get as much water down my throat as fast as possible. It has to be dehydration, I think. I turn on the tap in the kitchen and put my face under the stream of water. Putting my head in that position only makes the pain stab even more. 

I grab ahold of the sink with my hands and reminisce on how I treated my body like anything but a temple. I didn't eat enough. I didn't drink enough. I slept way too much. These were not the times to change habits. I'm not even sure I could if I wanted to. I already struggled with the bare necessities. The pain doesn't go away. Maybe a shower would do the trick? I couldn't remember if a shower ever had relieved the pain of migraine. The answer was probably no. But a shower was much needed in any case. That's what I decide to do. I head for the bathroom. Transitioning through the different rooms and backdrops felt like walking through thin layers of plastic. I make the transition with a blank face. Not even the faint glimpse of fabric in the withered face me. It all looks the same. The garden looks the same, so does the storage room and so does the bathroom. I don't like being alone here.