The Dreamer

by E. J. Mellow

  “You can let go of the Arcus now,” he says softly in my ear, pulling the bow from my aching grip. With a hand on my hip, he guides our now attached bodies back to the center of the circle.

  Breathe. Breathe.

  He steps onto a small glowing button, and the landing zone rises. I grab his wrist to steady myself, and his soft laughter reverberates through my body, making me want to lean in closer.

  “So jumpy,” he says, and I allow myself to smile, certain that he can’t see it. The platform stops much closer to the zipline, and Dev’s hand falls away, relieving my body of his touch. “I’m going to attach the Arcus to the line, and then I’m going to need you to lift your arms up and wrap your hands inside the extension loops.”

  He holds the bow out in front again, indicating the two loops that now extend on either end of the bow like tassels on a kid’s bicycle handle.

  “Ready?” he asks gently.

  “What do I do once we get going?” I want to ask a million questions not just because I have them but also to stall. I’m not really an adrenaline junkie kind of gal.

  “You don’t need to do anything but hold on and try to be loose with your body. The line will guide us to where we need to go. Just enjoy yourself.”

  Sure, enjoy myself while I’m falling down a multiple-story building to my likely death. Easy enough.

  “Any more questions?”

  “None that will get me out of doing this,” I say dryly, making Dev laugh once more.

  He fits the Arcus to the line, smoothly moving it back and forth. His toned stomach contracts with the motion, the proximity of our bodies acting like a medieval torture of wills.

  “Can you reach up and grab the extension handles?”

  I have to stand on my tiptoes to do so, acutely aware that this pushes my backside into his groin. I hear him suck in air, and I hold my eyes shut in mortification.

  Clearing his throat, he walks us to the end of the platform. I peek over the ledge and practically seize at the distance below. The ground looks miles away, and I can’t help building a detailed vision of my body splayed across the cement. Standing up straight, I internally do the sign of the cross and try backing away.

  “Ya know, now that I’m thinking about it, maybe I should stay with Tim. He did seem to think this was a bad idea, and looking at it from this angle, I have to agree with him.”

  “Don’t worry—this will be great. Got a good grip?”

  Before I can say no, he pushes off the platform, and we go barreling down into the open air. My stomach drops out and is left somewhere on the platform as my body is violently pushed back against Dev’s. The wind whips against my eyes, and I can hear someone screaming.

  Just as I understand that it’s my own desperate expression of fear and excitement tearing out of my vocal cords, a weird out-of-body experience surrounds me.

  I shut my eyes tight, and when I open them again, I’m sitting upright in my bed, sweating and panting in the dark.

  — 8 —

  “BABE, ARE YOU okay?” I jump at the gruff voice that mumbles from the other side of my bed. Jared lies there rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

  I glance at the clock, still clutching the sheets tightly in my hands, trying to regulate my breathing. “It’s still the middle of the night. Go back to sleep,” I say softly. Jared murmurs his consent before slipping back into slumber.

  I sit immobile, staring into the darkness. What was that? Was I really dreaming? I move my tongue around my dry mouth and swallow. My throat’s sore. Did I scream out loud or just in my sleep?

  My mind feels strange. As if I spun around in circles and suddenly stopped, my brain trying to catch up with the twirling movement.

  A cool breeze comes in through the open window, sending a chill across my skin. I settle my eyes over my gray camisole and polka-dot shorts, my limbs feeling oddly exposed.

  Exiting the bed, I pad over to my kitchen, needing a second before I even attempt to try to sleep. I remember flying down a zipline with a man, his face all but a blur, and my stomach tightens at the thought that I don’t remember who he was.

  Pouring myself a glass of OJ, I press the cool cup into my hand and lean against the counter. My hazy, sleep-ridden mind starts to clear, pushing away any detailed memory of my dream.

  I freeze, realizing that something inside me doesn’t want the dream to slip away. My heart picks up again, and I can’t explain why, but a sadness tugs at my chest. What is happening to me? I’ve never experienced this after sleeping before…not until the accident.

  Panic explodes around me. Did it mess up my brain? Why do I feel like I’ve had a similar dream before? I stare at a blue hand towel that’s draped over my kitchen sink. My drink stops halfway to my lips as I lock on to the object. Blue, his eyes are blue…

  “Mols, what are you doing?” Jared sleepily calls out from my bed again, interrupting my spiraling thoughts.

  I clear my throat. “I just needed something to drink. I’ll be back in a second.” Finishing my OJ, I place the glass in the sink.

  I’m fine. This is all fine. It’s just the Chinese I ate before we went to bed. I’m never eating Chinese again.

  As I crawl back under my sheets, Jared shifts over, holding me to his warm body. This is real—this man behind me is real. All that other stuff was just a dream. Taking in a large breath of air, I snuggle into his chest.

  I lie there staring out my dark window, trying to keep my eyes open as long as I can, listening to Jared’s rhythmic breathing against my neck and the casual honking of cars below.

  Eventually my eyes begin to sting with exhaustion, and I slowly allow them to close.

  —∞—

  My mind floats through nothingness again, stretching itself into the expansion of endless space. Slowly, a hard, damp substance materializes against my back. I move my body cautiously, relieved at its response. I breathe in deep, tasting and smelling a familiar fragrance. My ears pick up bugs chirping, and my heart pumps excitedly in my chest, remembering where I must be.

  Finally, I open my eyes.

  I’m lying in tall grass, the night sky above twirling with shooting stars, and a grin spreads across my face. I’m back.

  Why does this make me happy?

  I turn to a large tree, and like quick synapses, the memories of this place flood my mind. The dark field, the illuminated city in the distance, the beautiful star-filled sky. Three familiar faces dressed in black. This place has become the sole focus of my dreams. Like my brain is a record stuck on the same note.

  All the panic I had before I closed my eyes vanishes now that I’m here, and I marvel that all this could merely be in my imagination.

  I play with the grass in front of my crossed legs, noticing I’m once again in my provocative pajamas. The tight black clothes must have vanished when I woke with a start. Why do I remember more about this place when I’m here but can’t seem to when I’m back in my apartment?

  Gazing toward the city that I know I’ve traveled to before, I watch the surrounding glow expand and contract like a beating heart.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  I whip my head around, my stomach filling with nervous flutters as I take in my new companion. “How do you do that?” I ask, wrapping my arms around my knees—an attempt to cover myself.

  “Do what?” Dev gracefully plops himself beside me.

  “Know where I’ll be and then sneak up on me like that?”

  He shrugs. “I have my ways.”

  I let out a resigned sigh, slowly growing accustom to never getting an answer in this place.

  Dev stretches his legs and leans back on his arms, looking like a lazy farm boy on break. With his attention on the city, I’m tempted to trace his profile with the tip of my finger. I turn away and place my chin on my knees.

  “I have to be careful next time and try not to scare you as much,” he says, extending a shy smile at my bemused expression. “You woke up.”

  I nod, visions o
f the two of us tied together pummeling toward the city flashing in my mind. These dreams are almost like reentering a part in a book that was dog-eared, continuing right where I left off the last time I awoke.

  “Is this really a dream?”

  Dev studies me intently before looking away. “I’ll either have to be more careful, or you’ll have to build up some courage to not be frightened so easily,” he continues.

  I sigh at him ignoring yet another question, before asking another. “Do you still need to do your rounds?”

  “You’re remembering more,” he says, sitting up. “You were gone longer than it probably felt.”

  “You know, none of you guys ever give any answers that make sense. I just want to know why I keep dreaming of this place, if I am dreaming, like you say.” I give Dev one of my imploringly desperate looks. “Please.”

  With a small smile, he shakes his head. “I don’t know why you keep coming here.”

  Though not helpful, his answer sounds genuine. I also notice that he says “coming here” and not “dreaming.” “But you have some theories?”

  He smirks. “I always have my theories.”

  When he doesn’t enlighten me to what these are—big surprise there—we sit side by side in comfortable silence. The touch of the cool night passes over us, mixing with the peaceful symphony of insects in the grass.

  “What’s that?” I ask, noticing Dev spinning something between his hands.

  He quickly palms the object, bringing it around to his other side. I’m not positive, but I think I saw a familiar-looking shell.

  “Come on—what are you hiding?”

  Reaching out, I coax him to hand over whatever he’s concealing. He wears a playful smile that slips away when he sees my arm. Noticing that I’ve extended my bandaged wrist, I move it away, but Dev gingerly grabs my hand and brings it closer.

  “No! I don’t think you should do that,” I say as he begins to unwrap the bandage, remembering what the doctor told me about exposing the burn too much. He holds me steady.

  “Do you want this to heal?”

  “What?”

  “It’s a simple question. Do you want this to heal?” He nods to my bandage.

  “Of course I do.” I frown. “I want nothing more than for it to heal so I don’t have to wear this stupid thing.”

  As soon as I finish speaking, the coolness of his hands seep through the bandage and reaches my skin. The sensation startles me, and I try tugging my arm back, but Dev laces his long fingers with mine, holding me in place. After a beat he continues to unwrap the dressing, my newly exposed skin feeling sensitive in the fresh air.

  My breath catches at what I’m pretty sure shouldn’t be there. The puffy, raw skin I was used to seeing circle my wrist is now nothing more than an ugly scab. How did it heal so fast? I slowly turn my hand over, lightly touching it to make sure it’s real.

  “The mind is a powerful thing, Molly. Always remember that.”

  He looks so much older in this moment…his eyes seem to hold centuries of secrets. I wonder what his age actually is. I thought he was just a few years older than myself, but now that I see his face smoothly lit by the night sky, empty of anything but a gentle expression, he possesses something ancient.

  “What type of jewelry were you wearing?” He brings me back to the present by lightly stroking the sensitive part of my wrist.

  I hold in a shiver. “Um, a charm bracelet. It was a gift for my birthday.”

  He removes his hand. “Who gave it to you?”

  I hesitate. Jared obviously gave it to me, but do I just say that? Then Dev will ask who Jared is, and for some reason I’m reluctant to admit what he might be to me.

  I tuck my hair behind my ear. “A guy.”

  Dev searches my eyes as I try to read how my answer might have affected him—deep down, I know I desperately want it to.

  Dear Lord! What is wrong with me? This guy isn’t even real! And isn’t this the same man who made me furious earlier tonight?

  “What do you do when you’re awake?”

  “What?”

  “What do you do when you’re not here? Do you have a job?”

  “Uh, yes I have a job…” I hesitate, confused by the change of subject. “It’s all very boring though.”

  He pushes me to explain, asking question after question about my mundane existence.

  Slowly, his voice begins to fade and sound distant. I dig my fingers into the grass in an attempt to hold myself here, and Dev flashes me a sad smile.

  “I’m waking up, aren’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I wanted to ask you questions now.”

  He reaches out, grazing my cheek with his hand. The sensation of his touch is barely there as my body has begun to recognize another surrounding. “There will be plenty of time for that.” His voice is buried under layers, and my heart trembles that there might not be. Will I dream of this again?

  With that last thought, light fills my vision, and my eyes flutter open to early morning rays stretching into my window, laying their gentle warmth on my skin like a touch I long to remember.

  — 9 —

  THE DELICIOUS SMELL of waffles tickles my nose, and the sound of plates being taken out reminds me that someone else is in my apartment. Slowly rolling onto my side, I spot Jared standing in my kitchen in only his boxers. His bare torso ripples gracefully with the small movement of him forking a waffle from the maker and plopping it on a plate. I feel far away watching him, my eyes registering his presence but my mind still in another place with another man.

  Jared smiles and asks me something, which I don’t catch. I’m still remembering the guy that I was sitting with in a field only moments ago, his sapphire eyes and the small, intimate gesture of his hand on my cheek. I can’t shake the feeling of bereavement that is starting to make a home in my chest.

  “Molly?”

  I snap into focus and see Jared sitting on my bed. His hand rests on my hip, stroking it rhythmically.

  “Are you okay?” he asks gently, his handsome face softly lit from the morning light and his light-brown hair disheveled with bedhead.

  “Yes, I’ve just been having strange dreams.”

  “Yeah, I forgot that you woke up last night. What are they about?”

  I try to recall what I remembered only moments ago, but whatever it was has gone. A hazy, dark wall has gone up in its place, and I frown. “I don’t remember.” The words act as the last deadlock to my recollections.

  “Well, you’re no longer dreaming, so you don’t have to worry.” He continues to rub my hip. No longer dreaming—those words knock me back hard with dysphoria.

  What’s going on?

  I quickly shake my head and mold my features into a picture of happiness. Mom always said you can’t feel sad while you smile. I test her theory. “Did you make me waffles?” I reach out to him, focusing on the reality of Jared being here, reminding myself that everything is fine.

  “That I did! Now get up and let’s eat before I decide that breakfast should get cold while we play here.” He kisses me chastely while slapping me on the butt.

  I duck into the bathroom to freshen up, and after I’m done brushing my teeth and taming my disheveled hair, I unwrap my burn to put on a fresh bandage.

  Looking down at my wrist, my stomach instantly twists and a cry jolts from my mouth. The skin that I swear was raw and red the last time I checked is now practically healed. The only remnant is a gross-looking scab.

  Holy Moses! How is this possible?

  “What’s wrong?” Jared has opened the bathroom door and is watching me with concern. I glance from his face back to my wrist, then to his face again, at a loss for words. “Molly, what are you doing? You’re acting strange,” he says impatiently.

  “I…I…look!” My brain suddenly lacks the ability to form a sentence, so I shove my wrist toward him.

  His brows knit together, clearly not understanding.

  “It’s scabbed.”<
br />
  “Yes…I see that,” he says like I’ve lost my mind. I’m starting to feel like maybe I have. “Isn’t this a good thing? Doesn’t that mean it’s healing?” Jared takes my wrist that’s still shoved in his face and steps into the bathroom.

  “Yes, that means it’s healing…but how can it heal so fast? I don’t think it should be scabbed yet. I swear it wasn’t like this yesterday.”

  Jared chuckles. “Babe, you’re acting so crazy. You got struck on Tuesday. It’s now Saturday. A couple of days can do wonders, and who knows what kind of advanced medicine they have now for this kind of stuff. It’s probably some top-of-the-line ointment.”

  He holds my arm up, inspecting it again.

  “Judging by the looks of this, it definitely is.” Jared continues to talk, but I tune him out, remembering someone else holding my wrist, callused yet gentle hands unwrapping my bandages. The images of another man come in flashes, and it’s hard to discern what they all mean or if they are even real.

  A voice brings me back, and Jared’s arms encircle my shoulders. “Hello, earth to Molly,” he whispers in my ear. “Where’d you go just then?”

  “Nowhere,” I return too quickly. “I was trying to remember what Dr. Marshall told me about the ointment.” I step out of the bathroom before he has a chance to realize I’m lying.

  “Now let’s eat some waffles!” I say, pushing away the trepidation I feel looming in my mind about what could possibly be happening to me.

  —∞—

  After eating an obscene amount of syrupy goodness, my phone rings, and Becca’s signature goofy face pops up on the screen.

  “Hello there,” I say into the phone.

  “Who is this?” she says back.