Like a Dream

The summer air was still and balmy. It lingered with an encompassing warmth that brought a subtle sheen to the skin of those basking within it. The golden light that streamed through the large clear glass windows refracted into a soft rainbow that lay across the wooden floorboards. It was the unique and precious light of the precise moment of a day caught between afternoon and dusk; where the earth is bathed in an ethereal glow, and the sky is washed with shades of delicate blue, with only a whisper of the vibrant pinks and bright oranges that the sunset will bring. Sunset would not come for a while yet, and its delay held the bruised and sombre sky of twilight at bay. The nymphs tightened the dress around the woman’s waist, tugging firmly on the lace strings of the corseted back. Their laughter chimed around the room like delicate bells, soft and tinkling, and the scent of their perfume oil was heavy in the summer air. It was lavender, rose, and sweet orange, and it bathed the air in vibrant violets, oranges, and pinks. The nymphs wove blue violets and rosemary through her hair; violets for adoring love, and rosemary for enduring grief. The earthy scent of the rosemary coloured the air with a tone that was just a little bit deeper. The hem of her dress dusted the tops of her feet, and its train flowed breezily behind her. The lace lay soft upon her shoulders, and dipped down gracefully across her back and chest. It was a soft cream colour, but in the beautiful sunlight it glowed golden yellow.

The nymphs delicately hopped across the floorboards, their footfalls soft on the smooth wood. They pinned the veil into her hair, and placed a thin golden circlet on the crown of her head. It looked delicate and light, but it felt like it was made of iron, and her head dipped under its weight like a daffodil after a rain storm. The nymphs pulled the veil over her face, it’s cool softness kissing her features gently. They left it like that for a moment and then laughed, ringing like bells, and threw it back over her head with joy, where it settled gently with the train’s stream of silk and lace. The woman smiled softly as the nymphs caressed her face and kissed her cheeks, tears pooling in their eyes. They gripped her hands and arms eagerly, whispering in her ear, their slight bodies pressed into her, their wild hair tickling her skin. They ushered her out of the house, crying and whispering and giggling. The moment that they crossed through the doorway, the nymphs dispersed across the surrounding gardens and forests, scattering like dandelion seeds caught in a breeze.

Giant plumes of white cloud hung in the sky, their rounded ridges tinged in pink and yellow. The ground was warm beneath her feet, and the dirt path before her lead directly to the foot of a great mountain, bathed in golden light. The warm summer air was almost too sweet, and almost too warm, teetering on the edge of discomfort as all good things do. She began her descent down the dirt path, the train of her dress colouring from the red dirt that she walked on. The trees she passed bled scarlet sap from wounds in their trunks. It flowed steady and thick, like lava. Several nymphs trailed her from the tree line, looking on with a brazen curiosity. Some of them still cried and some of them still laughed, but most only looked on with wide eyes. When she reached the foot of the mountain, a figure appeared to her. It wasn’t a nymph, and it wasn’t another person. It regarded her with cold eyes and a heavy brow of steel, its heavy cloak deadly still in the soft breeze. Beyond the figure, she could see that the path extended up the mountain with uneven stone steps and archways of marble, cracked and covered in ivy climbers. Fireflies coloured the air with tiny dots of gold and yellow, only perceivable where the shadow cast from the great mountain hid them from the afternoon sunlight. She moved to pass by the figure, but it raised an arm out to her, blocking the way. It was a bony and misshapen, but it held a sinewy strength that the woman couldn’t push past. She observed the figure before her with gentle eyes; someone had loved it once, after all. She unpinned the veil from her crown, some tresses of her hair falling loose around her neck and face. The veil shimmered ethereal golden, like it had been cut from the dress of a goddess. Steely eyes hidden behind the deep shadow cast from the hood glared at her with a deathly cold hatred, but no move was made to stop her actions. The hooded figure’s arm did not even shift an inch as she wound the soft silken veil around the skeletal wrist. The veil billowed in the breeze, drifting up very slightly to cover where the face of figure was, shrouding it in glittering gold.

The woman stepped around the figure, finding it frozen under the weight of the veil, light even as it was.

She continued passed the now frozen skeleton, glancing back only briefly at it’s still and lonely form, the golden veil attached at its wrist billowing in the breeze. As she stepped along the uneven stone path, the stone hot under her feet, songbirds flew overhead filling the afternoon air with sweet music. The songbirds dipped in their flight occasionally to dart around her body, catching and devouring the tiny bugs that drifted through the air. The mountain paths stepping stones grew in size, until the woman was hauling herself up onto the next stone before her. She paused briefly, not out of breath but tired nonetheless. Even though it felt that she had not been climbing long, she was already almost to the top of the mountain, and the view was disorienting. The valley beneath the mountain presented itself in wash of colours; greens, blues, and bright oranges and pinks in the sky. The vision before her was alluring and compelling, in the way that the madness of a fever dream can feel strangely appealing. She approached the edge of the large stepping stone and looked down the side of the mountain. It was a deceptively sheer drop, and in an instant, she could imagine the valley beneath rushing up to meet her, and her body tipping over and down into the chasm beneath.

She stepped back from the edge and quickly hurried on.

As she climbed higher up the mountain, closer and closer to its peak, a deep black storm cloud rolled over the valley beneath. It rumbled with thunder, closing in steadily from the horizon.

The song birds had long since abandoned her in her climb up the mount, and the air was songless and still.

The summit of the mountain lay before her.

It dipped in its centre like a bowl, and was still and lifeless. The summit should have been airless, but it wasn’t. The air was clear and gentle on her skin, like cool blue water. There were several large trees that swayed in a gentle breeze, and through their lullaby fronds, the woman could see a small pool in the centre of the summit.

She had paused in her observation of the summit, and as she did, the thunder storm parted around the mountain. It didn’t send its howling wind and bright white lightning to the summit, but cowered cautiously around its lowest slopes. Its dark cloud didn’t blacken the view of the horizon as it deepened in hue, preparing for sunset, if it should come.

The woman reached up with both of her hands and carefully removed the circlet from her head. Her head was sore from its weight, and she set it down gently on a nearby rock.

The gold of the crown had dulled during her climb, and its shiny veneer had been rubbed back. The woman didn’t look back to see that as she walked onwards, the circlet crumbled into a metal dust.

She slipped through the swaying fronds of the willow trees, to the edge of the pool. She regarded the clear water, and looked back to the horizon, now a deep orange streaked with violet and blue. Tiny white stars were beginning to appear overhead, sparkling in the sky that wasn’t dark just yet.

The woman reached around her back and tugged at the dangling lace strings of the corseted dress. It didn’t come loose straight away, but when it loosened just a little bit, the dress eased open slowly. She pulled the lace away from her shoulders and stepped out of the dress, leaving it laying in a heap on the mossy rocks. The cool air began to nip at her skin, and her fingers and toes became cold. Twilight had come, as threatened, and the sky was bruised purple and blue.

She eased her body into the pool, finding it warm like the skin of a lover. The water only came up to her waist, but she stood upright, letting the rapidly cooling air wash around her.

She pulled the strands of violets and rosemary from her hair, letting them drop into the pool. The white and silver mists of twilight were settling all around her. On the surface of the pool, over the tops of the mossy rocks. The mist whirled around her gently, and the violets and rosemary strands drifted lazily across the warm water. Looking at the horizon, it was clear that the sun was gone, having set some time ago while she hadn’t been looking. She had missed its golden face dipping below the horizon, and she had missed its brilliant orange light. She felt distressed to have been distracted so, and to have missed something of tremendous beauty and value. Hot tears welled into her eyes, and made her throat clench painfully. She stared onwards at the horizon, bare and cold. The sky grew dark, tiny bright pinpoints of silver stars scattering across the sky.

The moon began to rise gradually up from the horizon, sending silvery beams of light down upon the woman in the pool. The moon rose higher into the sky, and as she did, the woman was struck with a beautiful feeling of stillness. There was nothing more to be done, no one else to go to. Her tears dried up, and her throat unclenched. There was no one else to be, except for who she was right there and then, standing naked in the pool. The moon opened her great eye, looking down at the woman, bare and open.

Her adoring eye drifted across the woman’s bare skin, her gentle gaze a million times warmer than the sun.