"What are you afraid of?" the silhouette asked, faceless, nameless from the other side of the frosted glass. "What makes you stay awake at night and is still able to haunt your dreams during the day? What is it you fear the most?"
"You first," I replied.
"I fear the light, you see. It hurts my eyes. It blinds me. In the same way, I believe that you fear the dark. It blinds you."
The Jacaranda Hotel had infinite white stone staircases that looped back on themselves, defying any logic I knew. They twisted in every direction—up, down, sideways—connecting in ways that shouldn't work but did. They led me to our meeting place. One night, I stumbled upon one of countless peculiar, empty, ill-lit rooms. I returned as often as my dreams would allow, though they seldom did.
I squinted at the figure beyond the glass, trying to make out anything concrete. Its head cocked to one side, a stark silhouette against the overwhelming light. It was polite. Its movements were smooth, deliberate. It rubbed its fingers across the glass as if trying to get a better look at me, but the veil of secrecy that hid my face remained.
"Do tell," it urged me.
"I'm afraid of the monsters. I'm afraid that they'll eat me. Mum says that they don't exist and that I'm imagining things. Am I?"
"I am… certain... I assure you that monsters do exist. One must only know where to look."
As we spoke, the floor beneath my feet warped, forming impossible angles and shapes. The walls rippled like water, their edges blurring into geometry that mocked regular human comprehension. Not mine.
The air pressed down. Physics didn't work right here.
"Why would I look for them?"
The silhouette remained silent before lifting its head, then moving it horizontally from left to right.
"Why?" I asked again before I could stop myself. It never liked when I asked twice.
"So that you can face them and see them for what they really are."
"I don't understand—"
"I understand. You're young but you will learn."
"Why do grown-ups always say that?"
"Because the blissful ignorance that surrounds you will slowly shatter under the wretched truth of reality."
I stood there in silence trying to understand the meaning that went over my small ten-year-old head. I tried, but I failed. My eyes darted across the room behind me. My gut twisted. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
"I have to go now. It was nice talking to you."
"Wait! Not yet," said the silhouette. "Stay with me just a bit longer. I'm lonely in here."
"Lonely?" I uttered.
"Through three winters we've spoken. You're the only person I ever talk to. You're the only one that listens. Nobody else cares about me or what I have to say. I'm sure you know very well what that's like. Don't you?"
I stared at my bare feet. A chill ran over them. It was the first time I felt the cold. Something hollow spread inside me, turning my insides into a cold cavern. I used silence as a warm blanket.
"I know what happened. A tragedy it is. I can feel the pain you carry. The weight of it is breathtaking..."
My chest tightened.
"How do you know what it feels like?"
"The same thing happened to me."
"It did?"
"Yes, and I grew from it."
"How?" I asked.
The silhouette paused for a moment, then pressed its right hand against the glass.
"Through the warmth of others. A simple touch is enough."
"How can our hands touch if there is a barrier in between?"
"It's the intention that counts. Place your hand against mine and think of all the bad things that have happened to you and my warmth will burn them away. I will rid you of your dark thoughts."
"You will?" I muttered, my voice shaking. I wanted my thoughts cleared for a while, and there I was faced with an opportunity if true.
"Of course. We're friends, aren't we?"
Our ever-so-frequent deep conversations got us acquainted with each other over the years. In my lowest moments, the silhouette was always there. It had an uncanny way of knowing when life had dealt me another wound. It knew my scars without me ever revealing them. It saw more from behind the glass than most that stood by my side. I stood there for a second, remembering all that. Then, a thought hit me.
"We've spoken for so long and it has just come to me that I don't even know your name."
"My name?" it stopped. "You never bothered to ask. It's funny you even would. Rodavlas—that is my name."
"Such a strange name," I said. "I've never heard it before."
"You have, many times in fact. You have simply lost it in the process of reflection. You will forget it soon enough once again, after which you will forget me as well."
"I won't!"
His fingers raked the glass, the scraping sound grating on my nerves, his open hand slowly clenching into a fist. My body twisted in unnatural ways at the noise. It made me tick as the many clocks from the outside were making a tock. The silhouette slammed its fist against the barrier.
"You will!" it burst out in anger. "Everyone does…" he choked out. "As you grow older the majority of memories are cleansed and space is made for new ones."
"I don't want that to happen."
"There's nothing you can do about it." He sighed. "What you can do is allow me to help you. Place your palm against mine. Give me your hand. I'll help you carry the burden. I'll make it easy for you."
I looked at his hand. It was no different from mine, just a tad bit bigger. I took a moment. Even though I could not see him on the other side, his piercing gaze penetrated through the glass. I lifted my left hand and moved it slowly toward his. A horn started to blow in the distance, accompanied by the muffled scream of a woman. It caught us off guard.
Strange…
That had never occurred up until that point. The vibrations shook the room itself. My hand trembled with it as I started to turn. The sound became louder with each passing moment.
"Give me your hand." He urged me.
"There's no time."
"Time?" he whispered, shaken by the word.
He uttered more words but their coherence escaped me. A ringing noise infiltrated my ears. I could only feel the vibrations beneath my feet. The walls of the hotel behind me were firm but everything within was collapsing as the silhouette pressed its face against the glass before it decided to bash its head at it. It was cracking. The lines prolonged with each blow into each corner. My universe was caving in on itself. In a sudden shock, a force pushed me backward towards the silhouette and the back of my head was warded by the frosted glass. The dream crashed in my subconscious mind, but another
stored it
away
..
.