Of My Dreams
By: Aaron Dewenn
Tags: Short Story, Creative Writing, Shadow Work, Dreams, Fiction

The moon loomed large over the horizon as if it had come to Earth to take a closer look.

The stars twinkled like fireflies. As I lounged on the grassy lake shore, the night sky draped the deepest shades of purple over everything I could see: the grass, the brush, the willow trees. Dragonflies with a golden glow skimmed the water, leaving a glitter-like dust in their wake. Then there was her.

She sang something celestial while parting the water with her curves, her silhouetted reflection danced on the ripples. With the moon as her halo, her body glistened as she stepped ashore. The sound of her voice filled my head with honey. The sweet nectar leaked from behind my eyes. She wiped it from my cheek and sucked it off her thumb while she continued to hum her melody. In this world where the sun rose in the west, where things fell up, and people only died sometimes, there was nothing more certain than my love for her.

As she straddled my lanky frame, water dripped from her thighs onto mine. She pushed her palm into my chest and my heart fluttered behind my ribs like a bird in a cage.

“Set me free,” I stammered.

Her fingers ran down my jaw and paused against my lips before she replaced them with a kiss. “I’ve prepared a place for us,” she whispered. “If you’re willing to come.”

Cupping her face in my hands, I rubbed her cheeks with my thumbs and told her, “Anywhere.”

After one more kiss and a long look into my eyes that seemed to search my soul, she fixed her gaze on something off in the distance. Across the lake stood a house on a hill, neither were there before. While too far to make out much of what it looked like, a bright golden light beamed from the windows like a beacon.

Up on her feet, she offered her hand and said, “Come home — ”

A jackhammer jerked me from my sleep. I rolled over and cursed into my pillow. Yet again, reality was the villain who tore me away from her. When I yanked open the blinds, the sunshine forced me to squint; it had been days since I’d last been outside. Cardinals swooped past my window in red streaks. Campus was bustling with students who were rushing to class. The dogwood trees that lined the pathways showcased their blooms. Men in yellow hardhats hollered over the jackhammer that rattled the earth right outside my apartment.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I muttered. Amongst the construction stood a sign that read INSOMNIA COOKIES COMING SOON. I bristled at the memories of my mother that flooded my mind. I’d always order snickerdoodles and ice cream. We would talk and laugh for what seemed like forever, until the discussions grew dull and the jokes less funny.

I sucked my teeth and pulled the blinds shut.

My bedroom showed evidence of a past life: textbooks thick with dust sat on the desk, dirty clothes cluttered the floor, pictures of friends and family I hadn’t spoken to hung on the wall; mementos of my life before becoming a recluse who got high and slept his days away to be with this girl that was a figment of his imagination. The thought of her made me grip at my chest. I had to go back.

An ashtray filled with the remains of a dab-wax-infused blunt sat on my nightstand, beside an empty bottle of Ambien.

When my roommate saw me leaving the apartment, he let out a sigh of relief and said, “Thank God. Thought you were dead or something.”

The piss colored walls clashed with my doctor’s pale skin. Flipping through the papers on her clipboard, she shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Federal regulations prohibit more than five refills in a six-month period.”

“Okay,” I nodded dully. “How many months has it been?”

“Three.”

I moped across campus with a wood-tipped Black & Mild hanging from my lips. Things looked different although nothing had changed besides me. People I once knew passed by like strangers. Like DiCaprio in that one movie, I felt if I said anything to anyone the entire campus would stop and stare. To be sure I was awake, I pinched myself hard on the arm. I winced from the pain. A girl riding by on her bike looked at me like I was crazy. I blew smoke in her direction.

My professor did a double take when I walked into class. “Nice to have you back,” he said.

I offered nothing more than a nod before sliding into a seat. I was only there to pass some time until I could return to the girl of my dreams. I gazed out the window while the classroom filled with pre-lecture chatter. The desk beside me stayed empty.

“Alright ladies and gents,” the professor said as I watched the clouds. “What are your thoughts on Homer?”

Everyone flipped through their copies of The Odyssey; I never even bothered buying the book. One by one, my classmates gave half-baked critiques. Then, I heard someone say, “Sorry I’m late.” When I turned to see who, my heart skipped a beat.

She seemed to move across the room in slow motion, her dreads tied in a messy bun on top her head. Her cheekbones were high, her lips were full. When her eyes met with mine, I froze stiff as a statue.

Can she see me? I thought. Stupid, of course she can.

I turned away.

She sat at the desk next to mine.

I glanced over longer than I intended. When she caught me, she offered a tight-lipped grin. I did something awkward with my face then turned away again.

I had to find a way to talk to this girl.

She pulled out her copy of The Odyssey and started rustling through the pages. The class was going on about the lotus-eaters.

“Hey,” I whispered.

“Hi,” she said in a tone that sounded a lot more like “What do you want?”

“Yeah, um,” I fumbled. “Forgot my book back at my apartment. Mind if I look on with you?”

“Uh, sure,” she said, angling the book in my direction.

The legs of my chair scraped the floor as I inched closer.

The professor shot me a look.

“You always been in this class?” I asked.

“No,” she answered without looking my way.

“Word, word,” I nodded, “What’s your name?”

“Atma.”

“Oh, cool. Isn’t that Sanskrit?”

She seemed impressed. “It is.”

“Beautiful.”

She smirked and glanced at me from the corner of her eye.

“And what do you think?” the professor stood over me with an accusing look.

“About what?”

Atma pointed to where the class was on the page.

I squinted and skimmed a few lines. “Oh. Uh, honestly, I think Odysseus was tripping,” I answered. “I would kill for one of those.” Laughter scattered across the class but the only laugh that mattered was hers. Her eyes lingered on me. I blushed. She had the cutest dimple in her cheek.

After class, I stopped her in the hallway and asked why I hadn’t seen her around before. She told me that she had just transferred last week.

“So,” I rubbed the back of my neck, “Was wondering if you’d be down to hang for a while, maybe check out that new Insomnia Cookies opening on campus.”

“I love Insomnia,” she beamed. “When does it open?”

“Well,” I grinned, “They just started construction today so — ”

She smiled and nudged my shoulder.

“ — probably a few months,” I chuckled.

“Umm…” she twisted her lips.

My heart was thumping.

“Sure,” she shrugged, “Why not?”

Our love story was a montage of laughs and intimacy to the tune of Sade’s “The Sweetest Taboo.” Kissing her was more peaceful than meditation. Whenever we made love, we transcended time. I refused to leave her side. I couldn’t believe I survived in this world before I met this girl. One night, while sewing kisses down her spine, I whispered, “To be with you is more a dream than any fantasy.”

Insomnia Cookies had its opening day after five months. We were the first in line. At the table I took a scoop of her ice cream with my snickerdoodle.

“Why didn’t you get your own?” she asked.

I grinned, “I’m happy with just a bit of yours.”

She hunched over her ice cream and pushed it around with a spoon.

“What’s wrong, babe?” I asked with a mouthful of sweets.

Gently enough to protect her makeup, she wiped tears from her eyes.

I reached across the table to grab her hands, but she pushed them into her lap.

“C’mon baby,” I whined. She had a look in her eye that gave me déjà vu. Something inside me was grasping for a love that was already lost.

“I can’t be your crutch,” she spilled.

“What — ” My eyes searched around the room for answers before they fell back on her. “What do you mean?”

“You love me more than you love yourself and it’s suffocating,” she admitted.

I scrunched my face and slumped back into my chair. “Atma, what are you talking about?”

“I was whole before I met you. Now, I feel like I’m less than that because I know if I don’t continuously pour into you, then you’ll spiral back into whatever sad state I found you in.” Her tears were running now.

Her words hit like a right hook.

“I have so much love for you and really don’t wanna hurt you,” she sniffed, “but the truth, I think, is the only thing that will help you in the end.”

She seemed to move across the room in slow motion, I hated watching her leave.

That night I faced a dab-wax-infused blunt until I fell asleep.

The water in the lake was boiling. The air was thick with mist tinted red by the blazing sun that circled the solar eclipse. The fireflies that had once been glowing gold were now cloaked in black clouds and swarmed my body. I swatted at them, trying to escape, but I kept tripping over the roots of the willow trees that grabbed at my feet.

I had to find that celestial girl of my dreams.

“My love,” I screamed. “Where are you?” Pushing my way through the mist, I found her hugging her knees in a patch of dirt. Black robes wrapped her body. Her hair covered her face.

“You abandoned me,” she sobbed.

“I did no such thing,” I argued.

“You abandoned me and forced me to watch you lose yourself in that Medusa-looking whore from behind your eyes. And in the end,” she cocked her head and glared through her tears, “she abandoned you because nobody will ever love you like I do.”

I dropped to my knees and placed a hand on her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

In a puff of black smoke, she vanished. I tumbled backwards.

“Sorry isn’t enough,” she hollered from behind me.

I turned and could hardly see her through the mist. I trembled as I stood to my feet.

“You never loved me,” she spat.

“Yes, I did — I do.”

She shuffled closer. Something shined in her hand.

“I want nothing more than to be with you,” I pleaded.

“Prove it,” she hissed and, just as quick, she lunged forward, plunging a knife into my heart.

I woke up gasping and drenched in sweat. I burst from my apartment without shoes on my feet, hugging myself tight against the chill of the night as I passed in and out the glow of streetlights. I stumbled into the 24-hour pharmacy and grabbed a box of Benadryl. The cashier looked like he had questions he knew better than to ask.

Back at my apartment, I popped fifteen pills out the package and ground them up on the kitchen counter. I sprinkled the powder into a cup of water and chugged it before I collapsed onto my bed.

The water in the lake had dried up. The sky was blue, the grass as white as clouds. I caught petals from the dogwood trees that floated on the breeze. From the bottom of the hill, I looked up at the house. Now that I was closer, I could see that it resembled the small brick house I grew up in. A chill ran through me when the front door creaked open; the sound of her singing spilled down the hill and caressed my ears.

Dressed in white linens, blood stained my shirt. The ivory blade of the knife was still poking from my chest. Pulling it out, it disappeared in a bright flash. My heart squirmed behind my ribs. I grunted as it dug itself through the wound, emerging as a cardinal that stretched its wings and took flight. While sending feathers into the wind, it chirped and circled my head before it flew up the hill and into the house.

When I stepped inside, I found myself in giant foyer with marble floors, double staircases, and windows that stretched to the heavens. In the middle of the room was a marble statue of her and I, we were embraced for a kiss. Her voice echoed through the halls. The cardinal fluttered back and forth between dozens of paintings on the walls which depicted the most emotional moments of my life.

I meandered by my first fight, the day my dog died, and paused in front of the largest canvas; a portrait of a ten-year-old me. Painted with oil and outlined in charcoal, arms outstretched, my eyes stared upward with my teeth clenched and lips pulled back in a frown. My grandmother’s wrinkled hand rested on my shoulder. Reflected in my eyes was the last time my mother looked back at me before climbing in the car. There was so much disappointment in her face; her scowl told it all.

I could never tell if it was in me or herself.

The cardinal perched itself on my shoulder and took in the painting with me. After a still moment, it chirped and flited around a corner. I followed behind it.

As I wandered down an endless hall, I could hear voices from my past behind the doors. Some hollered. Some were hushed to a whisper. The further I walked, the more the voices moved from outside to inside my head. I picked up the pace in an attempt to escape but they became more chaotic. With my palms pushed against my ears, I sprinted down the corridor towards an open door at the end. When I finally made it across the threshold, I plummeted into a pit.

My hands ran across the dirt before I pushed myself up to my feet. Panting into the darkness, I heard the cardinal’s wings beating at the air. It’s chirping turned to screeching cries.

“So glad you’re finally here,” the girl of my dreams greeted through the darkness.

“What is this?” I grimaced.

Suddenly, I felt someone, or something, huge standing behind me, breathing heavily. Before I could react, a giant hand gripped the back of my neck and lifted me off my feet. I tried to pull myself free, but the grip was too strong.

“Please — ” I choked.

“Down,” she commanded.

Whatever it was that picked me up tossed me aside and I slid across the ground. I coughed while I caught my breath. In a familiar flash of bright light, the knife that once pierced my chest emerged from the dirt. I grabbed it and shined it like a torch, illuminating the pit.

When I saw the beast, I shuffled backwards until my back was pressed up against the dirt wall. It had the torso and arms of a man, but a pair of furry legs, hooved feet, and the head of a bull. Two giant horns grew from its skull. Veins protruded from its skin. Its nostrils flared as it heaved each breath. Its eyes were much too small for its size and they stared right at me. The cardinal tried to fly past, but it snatched the bird out the air and swallowed it whole before it bellowed and stomped its hooves.

“I’ve brought you here so you could face yourself,” she told me from the edge of the shadows. “The parts of yourself that you buried away.”

With a closer look, I could see it — the anger, the grief, the fear. Emotion poured through the beast’s beady eyes. I raised the knife as it lowered its horns and charged forward.

Each blow to the beast caused me pain. The beast grew faint from the loss of my blood. Soon, what began as a gruesome fight transformed into an elegant dance. With each step we became more in sync. One would throw a blow and the other would duck away just in time. We became partners in keeping the dance alive until we became one body and mind. The darkness fell away. I could feel my heart beating stronger than it ever had.

The hospital’s fluorescent lights made me squint. My body was stiff and weak. The doctors told me that I’d been out for nearly a year. Still, the coma was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was finally free.