Shadows shifted in a dance of their own, as if brimming with life and nothing all at once. Flames pushed them away, only to draw them back in, shaping around the silhouette which, for no reason, was looking at me from across the room. He was standing in front of me. Watching me. His piercing eyes stared right through my soul.
As the flames behind him grew larger and stronger, whipping the empty space like a headless snake coiling in its agony, not even for a light second did they reveal him, not even a feature, no matter how small. The pooling tension was pressing on my bones, but it didn't chase me away. It didn't trigger my senses. Slowly, but without precaution, I moved closer to the one who still stood unmoved in front of me.
Not a stranger, yet someone unknown.
Without wasting yet another second, he pulled me close into his arms; tight enough to still allow me to see the silver tears flowing unbridled down his cheeks.
Heart pounding, drenched in sweat, my eyes flew open, and I shot upright in the middle of the bed. For a second, my head spun as a single beam of light from the lantern across the street penetrated my sheer bedroom curtains. Gripping the sheets, I tried to breathe slowly; and in a pointless effort to calm myself down, I slowly laid back on the pillow.
The memory of the dream relived itself in my mind relentlessly, but it wasn't until the dizziness dissipated that I moved any further. Stretching my arm, I lit the little reading light on my nightstand and lazily picked up my phone to check the time - two o'clock.
Of course it's dark; it's the middle of the night.
I placed the phone back with the screen facing downwards, and without looking, I pulled open the drawer and took out a little mirror. What a fascinating image reflected on its surface. My cheeks were red, my hair scattered on the pillow as if I were the tragic heroine of my own novel, and my eyes... my eyes were wet, yet bearing a clarity I often missed noticing.
Was it because of the dream?
No; and I knew that too well.
It was because of the person in it.
I pushed a finger against my lip - a slight tremor still present, and still looking in the mirror, I sighed from the bottom of my heart.
A long, heavy, lonely sigh.
Although I only had this dream occasionally, it stayed with me since I was a little child. However, every time, without mistake; in that split of a second when one transitions between dream and awareness, feelings abound, threatening to spill over beyond what my heart can withhold, emerging into reality through a deep loneliness which washes away just as it came, dreamlike.
I grabbed the notebook from under my bed, my long, brown hair brushing the hardwood floor as I searched for the little space it was shoved in. On the pink, time-damaged cover, I wrote some years ago: Dreams Diary. Very inaccurate to say 'dreams,' and it bugged me every time I looked at it. I created it for only one, and one alone — always the same. Filled more than half and with wrinkly edges, it didn't look like much, but it was special to me, so opening it with a smile to the last entry, I wrote:
September 8th
I felt safe in his arms, wrapped in close and tight. And a smile, beneath all those shadows I simply felt, but couldn't see.
I wish I could...
Two years, seven months and twenty-eight days since our last 'meeting', but who's counting?
The flames looked larger, more aggressive than before, but that's not important right now - he was crying. Shedding tears that looked like starlight — silver, and with a light of their own. The last time I had this dream, I woke up right after I got pulled into his arms, but this time he was crying.
I would be lying if I said I can't wait for the next dream. But I can never get my hopes up since there is no promise there will be one. Even so, every single time something new happens, almost like a game where I unlock a little more from a secret film, a few seconds at a time. So perhaps next time I will see his face.
I can't help but wonder what it means. What is the connection? What am I missing here? Every dream absolutely identical, plus a few seconds. Nothing ever moves out of place. Nothing ever changes.
Is there a deeper meaning, or is he just the result of a hyperactive imagination?
Maybe I'll find out at some point, but until then I can just dream of flames, shadows, and a mystery figure with Silver Tears …
I flipped back to the last entry, from almost three years ago in February. Same details, same situation, but the dream got interrupted right before I could even notice his tears. Flipped the page again, and the time difference was only six months, whereas before only three weeks. No major incidents prior to the dreams, no family drama, no sad break-ups, nothing which could have triggered my mind to create him.
The first time I ever wrote in it, I was about eight. That was when I started dreaming, and it didn't happen every night, but only from time to time, I thought as I flipped the pages over and over again. Although I always dreamed of him hidden in shadows, he grew up at the same pace with me. Starting off with him just as a little boy, close to my age.
Over time, I gained a type of feeling I could only describe as love, if that is what love truly felt like. But how would I know? I've never been in love before. Foolish? Possibly, but it was too late to have regrets. I presume it has affected the way I have lived my life and the choices I have made, but I can only leave it as a supposition.
I closed the notebook and hid it back in the secret pocket under the bed. The last thing I wanted was for my mother to find it. I mean, how would I even explain it?
Lost in thought, I soon dozed off back into the world of dreams, but this time there was nothing worth remembering.