Dreaming Part 1

It's cold.

The night is always cold with the fan blowing on its highest setting, the blanket partially hanging off my leg, the temperature of the house in the low sixties. I'm shivering in my sleep, but I don't wake up.

Consciousness doesn't find me for a while.

My dream-self treks through the snowy, winter landscape in search of shelter from the unforgiving temperatures. My form is thin and worn, my clothes aren't built for this weather but I am determined to continue my journey. I don't remember when I began to exist, but I know that my one goal is to find somewhere warm and comforting. Thoughts are swirling in my head, but I am unable to make sense of them. My bare feet leave tracks in the falling snow yet I cast no shadow.

Who am I?

Shelter appears before me in the form of a large mansion.

Where am I?

I have no memory of entering this grand structure of a house, but the chill of my bones slowly give way to warmth. Someone is watching me, but I can't see them. Their voice tries to pierce through the foggy haze of my confusion, but the soundwaves slip through my fingers like fine sand. Looking down at my body I find myself draped in white robes that drag on the marble floors. My bare feet carry me through the never-ending halls. The eyes follow me.

In a room I stare at my figure in a mirror bordered in gold, the crown of my head drips blood onto my white robes as antlers peak through my dark, curly hair. I feel no pain, yet my reflection shows me belting out a silent scream. I do not remain in the room much longer.

A man is waiting for me in the halls, his gaze familiar as I realize this man has been watching me since I first entered the home. He's wearing a blue suit and white gloves, his dark hair slicked back, his mouth intricately stitched as if performed by a surgeon. He speaks to me.

"Welcome home."

I'm seated across from the man in blue, I don't know his name yet I begin to feel like I've known him my whole life. Seated in a dining hall I watch as piles of food manifest on the wooden table. I don't hesitate to eat my fill. The man watches in what I perceive as endearment. I don't feel the fullness of a hearty meal, but the cold empty feeling that plagued me had vanished.

The man in blue walks alongside me as I waltz through the halls and explore the rooms of a foreign house I'm supposed to call home. There's a library and a tearoom; a Victorian era home that somehow has the atmosphere of a rundown cabin in the middle of a desolate wooded area. There are dark rooms and rooms of rotted wooden floors with holes in the ceiling, piles of snow collected here and there. There are pristine rooms that I felt too unworthy to step foot in, all white and without a speck or blemish.

Throughout this tour I never remember a door. I never remember opening or closing on, when I see a room there is a never a threshold I just appear, the same as when I first happened upon the mansion. I begin to think that I am a specter, but I am not troubled by the thought.

Suddenly I am in a bathroom. The walls reflect the water in a tub that could seat a dozen or more bodies, but only the body of a woman is placed inside. She's still but breathing. Her skin golden brown and her eyes closed. There's a windowing inviting the sun to shine into the room. It's warm in here. The man in blue sits by the door and my body carries me to sit at the lip of the bathtub next to the woman. She opens her eyes and I do not startle when I am met with a hollow gaze.

"You've finally come," she says to me.

For the first time I speak. "Yes, I'm here." I feel the smile on my face before I feel the elation bubbling in my chest. The woman reaches a hand forward and draws me in to a kiss. I can't tell if this a romantic declaration, but I accept it. This is the moment I finally feel at home.

The woman reaches for the top of my head, feeling the antlers growing there. I can feel her warm touch along with the water dripping from her fingers sliding down the boney appendages. She hums a tune I can't quite make out as she dips her fingers in the crevices. When she pulls her hand away they're stained with blood that she washed away in the bath. The water remains clear. She continues to hum and wade her hands back and forth in the tub creating gentle waves. The room begins to fill with steam and my white robes begin to turn black.

"I love you," the woman says when her tune ends. I don't hesitate to return the sentiment.

"I love you." This time the man in blue speaks, mouth still stitched and unmoving.

"I love you, too."

I am flanked on both sides as I walk through the garden behind the grand home. The woman walks on the right of me, dawned in a red cloak that encompasses her entire being, her hood drawn with her empty eye sockets hidden. The man in blue walks to my left, a veil fixed to cover the bottom half of his face. It's still cold outside, snow still falls and chills still run up my spine. But I am not alone and I do not feel the fear of death.

The garden is vast and beautiful even in the depths of winter. Flowers bloom even as snow weighs down their petals, their color striking against the stark white blanket. I admire them and sing them a lovely song that doesn't exist.

Unfortunately there is no conclusion to this story. The cold bothers my sleeping self and I wake up before the journey of my dream-self ends. I drape the blanket back over my leg and shift my body into a more comfortable position and I am back off to sleep to dream of a different adventure.