The Dream

It felt like hours he had been wandering with no clue, not even the slightest idea of where he was going or where he was running to next. This in itself was something that was nothing new, perhaps it was even considerably the only thing he knew for sure would never change. Though, as he continued on his path to what could have easily been nowhere, the scenery in his view was something all too familiar; a place he was tethered to, a place he was bound to return to time and time again. It was, in the back of his mind and in his heart, the place where he would always belong.

As if time had not changed a thing, there he was in the same small town that he once hoped would be one of the first and last places he’d be able to call home. And by instinct, habit, or maybe even nothing more than curiosity, he began making his way to one place in particular. At the end of the path was a small, burgundy house with an alabaster door that appeared almost brand new. The paint had not done as little as peel or chip, and the house itself had not lost its warm appeal. It looked exactly like he remembered it had when he had called it home, and perhaps that was the thing; It was simply how he remembered it. In his mind it would always appear to have no flaws. After all, it was no more than a memory now whether he was aware of it or not. The curiosity, the instinct, continued to motivate him on his path towards the white door of the house that had not even the slightest scratch.

Without thinking twice he put his hand on the cold metal of the doorknob and turned it fairly eagerly. The door, left unlocked as he expected, — at one point of his life it usually had been when he was expected to be returning home any second — creaked as he pushed it open to peer inside. He stared helplessly into the entrance of the house before working up the nerve to enter. It struck him as odd, strange, too good to be true, to be staring into the home he left behind. After all the years he spent avoiding this place in particular, he expected his little home to be, perhaps, nothing more than rubble and dust. Of course, what he saw of the interior, just like the exterior, had not changed. He studied the front hall. There was a staircase just to his right and to his left, a wall decorated with photos of him and the little family he once had; photographs of ghosts now only alive in picture frames.

After a few moments of gazing at the photographs, he was greeted by a voice quick to bring a smile to his face. Just by the sound of the voice, he knew who it was immediately and soon, he saw her; the one person who he wanted to see more than anything in the world.

“You’re home!” A brunette hurried her way to the front door where he stood, a bright smile on her lips. “I’m so glad to see you!” She exclaimed, practically jumping into his arms. Instinctively, he threw his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground in a tight hug, squeezing her until she joked about being unable to breathe.

Once on the ground again, she placed her hands on either side of his face and stared up at him, though all he could bring himself to do was stare back at her wide eyed in bewilderment.

“Oh, don’t look so pallid!” She said finally, chuckling at him and lightly patting the right side of his face with her palm. “Everything’s fine.”

He lifted an eyebrow, still caught off guard by the sight of her, and slowly he nodded his head.

How can it be fine? He struggled grasping the idea that she was there in front of him and momentarily he stood looking at her. He figured the woman noticed his confusion because a warm smile crossed her face and she interrupted the silence.

“Anyway, I’m sure Viv will be ecstatic to see you. She’s been so fussy without you around.”

“Has she?” He frowned, staring down at the woman and then around the house again, as if to confirm he was really there. “Where is she?”

The woman leaned forward and left a kiss on his cheek before pointing towards the staircase. “I put her down for a nap not too long ago but I don’t think she’ll sleep long. Like I said, she’s fussy. I wonder where she got that from.”

“Definitely you.” He answered before taking a couple of steps toward the stairs, smirking at her and the way she rolled her eyes at him.

He ascended the staircase fairly quickly, overwhelmed with excitement at the thought of seeing his daughter after what felt like forever. He still remembered exactly where her room had been and how the furniture had been arranged. It was almost as though he had been there just yesterday. He made his way over to his daughter’s crib only to see the infant awake, as he expected, and staring up at him. He spent a few minutes merely gawking at the child with her innocent smile and her complete oblivion to the world around her, except of course to her father who was looking down at her.

“What are you doing up, kiddo?” He asked softly, smiling down at her and leaning over her crib. He scooped his child into his arms, hugging her as close to him as he could without causing harm in the same manner he did the woman, afraid she’d disappear at any moment. He cradled her in his arms, stifling bouts of overjoyed laughter. Just the sight of her had him choked up and overwhelmed with happiness, a feeling he had completely forgotten about; all doubt about his family not being there left his mind.

John stood rocking the infant back and forth in his arms until she had finally dozed off into a deep sleep. Looking down at her, he began to wonder how he had lived without her and without his wife. It saddened him that his daughter had never gotten to know him. For all he knew she was only aware that he was a person taking care of her. And what was worse, he never got to know her and the person she could have been.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He whispered, giving a small smile as he spoke.

After hesitating for a few moments he sighed softly to himself and gently placed the still sleeping infant back in her crib. Even then, he didn’t want to leave her.

Moments later, he stepped out into the hall, looking to and fro to see more photos and keepsakes as he made his way to his own bedroom, one he had shared with the woman. Everything had remained the same and it still amazed him that he was really standing there. A soft, contented sigh pushed past his lips and he threw himself down on his bed with the same enthusiasm a homesick wanderer would possess. But he supposed that’s just what he was. For the first time in his life he had realized he was homesick. There was something about lying on his back in a room that belonged only to his memories that was so distant yet familiar all at once. He gazed at the ceiling until he felt the space on the mattress next to him sink under his wife’s weight as she plopped down, lying on her side and looking at him with a warm smile on her lips.

“I’m sorry for everything. You deserve better.” He said impulsively to break the silence, frowning and turning his head to look at her. The words left his lips in a hurried manner, forced into the air as to not miss the chance to say them. They were the words of a man who had rehearsed them over and over again in the years he spent wallowing in guilt.

“It wasn’t your fault. You have to forgive yourself sometime.” The woman responded almost immediately, speaking as sweetly as he spoke quickly.

He shook his head at her reply, almost scoffing at the idea of forgiving himself. He knew that deep down he never would, it would be his burden to carry until the day he joined her again. It was his fault; stubborn by nature, he refused to believe any different. The brunette took his hand in both of hers, still smiling at him.

“You’re going to be okay, you know. You have to move on at some point.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“You will.”

I won’t, he thought immediately but he didn’t want to argue with her. Eventually he shut his eyes, taking in the peaceful silence. For once it wasn’t a deafening sort of silence, it wasn’t something to be abhorred; in that moment he felt he wasn’t alone. The woman was there with him and she was his to hold again. She was there to ensure he’d never be lonely again. She had to be. Consumed by the still tranquility of his romanticized illusion, the dream of what he wished reality was, he almost didn’t notice the woman’s hand leaving his grip. All at once, the welcoming warmth of the world around him turned into a violent, frigid numbness as the awareness of the disillusion fell upon him. The serene quiet became a foreboding hush, reminding him of the dreaded solitude he really lived in.

He opened his eyes, expecting, hoping even, to look over and still see the woman next to him as if the past as he remembered had never occurred. As if time had stayed still. There was a short moment of optimism when he glanced over at the space beside him. In the dim light coming from the street lamps outside, all that his gaze was met with was the empty space next to him in a bed that did not belong to him. Around him was a room that did not belong to the place that was the closest to a home he ever had; the home unaffected by time in the memories that still lingered in his head. Instead of seeing the room that he had once shared with the person he was more than willing to spend his days with, he found himself sitting alone in a motel room. It was a room that he had broken into for the night before he once again set out aimlessly running from everything he ever knew.

He felt his heart sink and his stomach tighten. He sat there for a moment and all he could do was stare. He stared with an overwhelming feeling of disappointment and that recurring sense of virulent denial. Cruel denial was; it made his reality a horrible nightmare. And suddenly, as though everything finally hit him all at once, he quickly sat up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and turning away from the empty space next to him. He leaned forward, putting his head in his hands and taking in a shallow breath. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to return to that memory trapped in the back of his mind, that blissful dream where everything really was fine. Soon his head began to throb and a stinging pain set in behind his eyes as he tried with all of his might to hold back tears brought on by grief.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” He mumbled to himself, trying to pretend that she was still next to him. He kept his palms pressed against his closed eyes and he frantically tried to recall once again even just what she looked like and what she sounded like. What could’ve been minutes or possibly hours passed and finally he gave up, lifting his head out of his hands and glancing around the room. Instead of the lively household he remembered, he again was glancing around a dark, empty room.

He often forgot that the closest he had to family was nothing more than a fleeting memory and tonight would be amongst the many others that he’d stare at the ceiling, wishing he had never awoke from that dream where the woman he adored was still there next to him. He’d merely leave the next morning and flee from the memories that still haunted his mind. Though, no matter how much time passed or how much he tried to ignore them, they would still be there by the time night fell again.

In the silence of the world around him, the words would echo in his mind;“You’re going to be okay, you know. You have to move on at some point.”