The Key Between Stranger Realms - Day Eight

On this strange morning, I wake from a dream that feels terribly real. I hold my arms, my shoulders, my legs. No scars, no trace of suffering. I am on the couch in the little apartment, hidden from the world. No towers, no pirate ships. How long was I lost in the dream? How much of it was entirely fabricated?

No.

Despite my doubt and the voice of reason, I am certain that it wasn’t a dream, not remotely. I look at the calluses on my fingertips — guitar practice so I can learn to play myself out of this miserable existence, transcend boredom and disinterest.

The lyre — I didn’t know how to play it because I didn't believe it could save me. The dream … memories grow hazy. Before they fade away completely, I must unravel the truth. Among all those I knew in the other realm, there is one most easily located in the ordinary: the barista.

5:30 in the morning, right at opening and sunrise, I rush into her cafe, leaning against the counter to catch my breath.

“Oh, dear! Are you okay?” she gasps.

“This is going to sound strange, but I had a dream I'm not entirely sure isn’t real,” I say between nervous pauses.

“Oh,” she says, stepping back from the counter and twisting her rings, not in terror but contemplation.

“I need to remember,” I tell her, wondering if she understands what I’m saying at all.

“Dreams are like passages into other worlds. Sometimes, they tell us things about our lives,” she decides, rifling behind the counter.

Does she know the truth about her secret life? Should I enlighten her? No, I shouldn’t involve others until I truly know the consequences of this awakening.

“You usually come here and order espresso. That’ll give you a burst of energy, but it’s easier to get distracted, like you get pulled into another world?”

“Exactly,” I breathe deeply.

How does she not know?

“I have something, a tea that will help you focus. Focus is exactly what you need,” she offers.

I nod in approval.

“For here or to go?”

“For here,” I say, giving her seven crumpled dollar bills and a smile.

I find a seat, knowing that if this works, I’ll need to be ready to return to the stranger realm.

“Here you are,” she says, handing me my tea.

I do not look into her eyes. My involuntary passage has always been from association. No, this time, it must be exact.

I close my eyes. Hot liquid scalds my mouth. There was a sorcerer the last I saw, and we were heading to see the Oracle. But I don’t need to return to that moment. I need to remember the one right after it, the sorcerer and the Oracle. What did they tell me about the realms, the unraveling time?

Finishing my tea in a trance-like state, I open my eyes, and to my surprise, I am not in the cafe.

No, I am in Harmony’s towers. That’s right, that’s her name. And I am Key Between the Realms.

“Did it work?” Harmony asks in anticipation.

“It worked,” the sorcerer, Clovis, says, for he can read my mind.

“I thought of this moment, and I came here.”

“Did you drink the tea?” Harmony asks.

“Yes. What is so special about the tea?”

“It is not, not really. It is just that it helped you see. The power to connect between the realms is entirely yours,” Harmony explains.

“Last we met, why did you say I should not know her name?” I ask the sorcerer, Clovis.

“That you did not recall it then and do now proves the risk. Your memories of time were disjointed. They will be right soon enough,” he assumes.

“And the scars, did you have them in the other realm as well?” Harmony questions.

“No,” I answer.

I brush a hand over my shoulder again. I am suddenly aware of all the moments I have spent in this tower, desperate for answers. The last time, the runaway king and I were trying to find his missing queen.

“Why am I not remembering his name, the king?”

“Our theory proves valid,” Clovis says.

“Two different bodies, minds connected somehow. Now, your mind has been unbound in both realms, and you can move freely between,” Harmony adds.

“His name,” I insist.

“You must make contact with him again to unlock your memories of the king. Likely, there are parts of your past that you have yet to experience,” Harmony guesses.

“Tell me,” Clovis begins, “Where is your horse?”

“What?” I ask.

“Your horse, what happened to it?” he questions.

“I do not know,” I realize.

“The road was not the first time we met, Key. You have only scratched the surface of unlocking your memories. You must find them, these strangers, and uncover the truths in between. Then, we can begin to understand the impact you have on this realm,” Clovis concludes.

If it is true that the king and I have history, more reason to explain this awfully painful longing, I must find him, in this realm or the other.

***

Hello, wanderer! This week, we delve into a new phase of this daily series. Key will start to get answers! Will she find the king? Check in tomorrow to see what happens next!

Meanwhile, you may enjoy delving into my ongoing, fantasy poetry collection Queen of the Gulls:

xoxo,

for now,

-your friend, lost in thought