The Art of Knowing [Completed]

30. • humble beginnings •

[to all plagued with memories of the past, remembering how things used to be.]

• • • •
Cassandra jolted awake for the first time in a while. Despite the reoccurring dreams she had no choice but to accept, it'd been quite some time since the last time one of her snippets caused her entire body to wake abruptly. Her eyes fluttered open to then meet with the sight of the television illuminating her small living room. After a long talk, she had relented on fighting against Ryan's desire to help out, but only allowed him to pay half of the bill while she took care of the rest. It warmed her heart to acknowledge Ryan cared so much, aiding in a coy smile to play on her lips when he agreed to the arrangement.

Nevertheless, smiling was something the artist was unable to do at the moment once she came to with the dream she was now burdened with. The ominous sting within her eyes as they pooled with tears served a bitter contrast to the heartwarming scene in front of her.

Cassandra's legs remained atop of Ryan's lap, all while remaining heavily overtaken by a deep slumber as he rested his head on the back of the couch. After several days of exploring Seattle and categorizing herself as his tour guide, a much needed movie night in doors proved to be their favorite pastime. While they were able to watch more than half of the movie, it wasn't long before both of them fell victims to undeniable exhaustion and ultimately slept the rest of the movie away comfortably on the couch. But regardless of the peaceful night, the artist felt sudden desperation once she noticed Ryan's hand resting heavily on her legs as his chest heaved deeply with each inhale and exhale.

He looked so peaceful, the artist concluded, and it only pained her more in not being able to enjoy the beautiful sight. It seemed as if a sheet of relaxation enveloped him; eyes closed and every muscle on his face evidently smoothed over with long awaited peace. It was worlds away from the alertness suffocating the artist mercilessly. In fact, there was nothing Cassandra wanted more than to get up and leave the room without waking him, but it would be foolish of her to expect a swift escape without detection.

The young brunette nearly choked on her desire to sob over yet another dream she had no interest in remembering. But as an eternal burden, she wouldn't be able to forget the horrid snippet of Ryan's father. In fact, she would gladly plea to be free from the knowledge that had quickly tainted her very soul. She covered her mouth swiftly as tears overflowed from her eyes, watching as Ryan remained deep in his sleep without a care in the world. If only he knew the horrid truth about what she had just witnessed. Bile evidently rose within the artist as she acknowledged her misfortune. Knowing about the personal lives of countless strangers was by far the aspect she detested the most, and while seeing Ryan's parents in the eventful gathering weeks before aided in her realizing that it was indeed Mr. Eckhardt in her dream, it was obvious she hadn't met either of them face to face. This fact technically made them strangers just like every other subject within her dreams.

The dream suffocated Cassandra with overbearing knowledge- more specifically, the type of news Ryan would immediately refuse to listen to. It was a dream about Mr. Eckhardt himself. Although it seemed to be harmless, the dream took a bitter turn once the artist remembered him dinning with another woman- a woman that didn't resemble Mrs. Eckhardt in the slightest. It would be inconceivable to categorize it as an innocent meeting due to both of their demeanors. There was enough within the dream to inform Cassandra of the possibility of infidelity, and the very thought of mentioning it to Ryan seeped fear within her in a matter of seconds.