Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Sweet Dreams are Made of This

        Traffic was mild, and my legs were already carrying me across the pavement as if I’d been walking here for hours. Shallow rainwater pooled and puddled in asphalt divots, reflecting the reds and yellows of the humming city back at the black night sky. I must’ve been out late, or taken the wrong bus, I suppose.

Across the street, a cozy little bakery with an awning patio that spanned the right side had just closed for the night; the barn red door and the post-it yellow open sign swinging closed in unison by forces unseen. Everywhere as far as the eye could see, house lights were flickering off, and businesses were turning in for the night. I was going to be late getting home.

 

If I didn’t get back soon, Drew could lock me out. I picked up the pace and rounded the corner to see an elevated wall mural jutting from the ground like an obelisk, and stairs leading up to my old elementary school. The steps were far too steep, of course, but nearly all of the accessibility features here were callously indifferent; sometimes an OSHA violation, and simultaneously a nobel prize for architecture that defied physics. 

 

I avoided the stairs and went up the parking lot, stepping aside from the road to let a car through. These streets tended to get busy when I wasn’t watching. By the time I got to the chain link fence, I’d noticed the sky had grown darker and the street lights were dimmer. It was like the light was dying. 

 

I didn’t like being here, but I was sure my destination was just a few more blocks away, whatever it was. Where was I going? I stopped to think under a single ghostly white light hanging from the… Inside of the library? I didn’t remember how I got here, but what I liked less was how dark it seemed to be getting everywhere. 

 

I ran to the double doors at the end of the room, the single light barely reflecting a shimmer against the metal bar in the center, and pushed with my whole body. I feared it would be locked, and when I tried it wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t stay trapped here, not with the lights about to go out again.

 

 The doors will open, I told myself, I just have to lean- and just like that, the door gave way and I tumbled out from using all of my weight. Rather than the eastern hallway I was expecting, I was outside again, beside a highway dotted in street lights overlooking a river as deep and wide as an ocean.

 

 I didn’t bother with the stairs and jumped down onto the sidewalk that trailed the inside of the road. I needed whatever head start I could get, and the dark seemed to be catching up with me somehow. Somewhere in my gut I knew I just had to get home. Somewhere safe. Anywhere I’m meant to be. Just not all alone, out here. 

 

The sidewalk was uphill now, and my sprint had slowed to a crawl against the sixty degree incline that the highway had suddenly taken. I was going to fall if I didn’t keep my grip now, tumbling back into the dark, unable to go anywhere or see anything again, waiting for the vantablack to swallow me whole. Then, I heard what could have been church bells to my right.

 

A warped trail of sidewalk veered into a pounded dirt trail. Without moving a step, I was somehow on the path, a whole world removed from the danger before. When I reached the middle clearing, I knew something about this place was different. It was still night, but it wasn’t dark out. The trail was bathed in the kind of white hot glow that only a stadium can achieve at night, with no visible source of light in sight. 

 

In the center of the park, across a pond with a beautiful, long red bridge, was a large twenty-something story building. The main entrance was concave, neon red lights glowing from short alcoves illuminated the concrete steps a short ways before leading to a pair of large glass revolving doors. Above the entry, a huge wooden sign had a single symbol emblazoned on the front of the building: a five pronged fork in the vague shape of a tree. 

 

This place was puzzling. It was absolutely nothing like any of the districts I’d seen before. I couldn’t even begin to relate this park, or this building, to any of the other places here. This wasn’t alarming though, far from it. Something about this place seemed friendly, compassionate and benevolent. I took in as many sights as I could before going inside, sure that I would want to recall every detail later. 

 

The interior was richly furnished to the point of almost being grossly opulent, but in a way that made you feel bashful just for interacting with any of it. Seats and benches were upholstered with fine dark leather and expensive dark woods. Watercolor paintings of beautiful locales the world over dotted the red and gold walls, and a shallow modern chandelier hung from the ceiling above. I was surprised to be face to face with a receptionist, standing behind the half oval granite top desk. That same tree-fork symbol was front and center, on a large circle that jutted out about an inch in from the face of the desk. 

 

Before I could say anything, the receptionist waved to me. I waved back. Something about that was amusing, but it was difficult for me to recall specifics about dream-people behavior at the time. Her features were striking, and I found myself admiring her simple black and white uniform juxtaposed against her short, bright, dirty blonde hair.

 

    “How may I assist you today?” She said, her gray eyes staring deeply into mine, as though she saw something I had yet to know; a secret, like an oversized gift box behind someone’s back. Her question left me wondering. I was unsure of exactly what it was that I wanted from this place. I was just grateful that I wasn't out there anymore, climbing sidewalks, being chased by darkness, or feeling like I’d be swallowed up. 

 

Suddenly, I felt transfixed by her gaze. She was telling me something with those eyes, something her mouth never could, and any introspection on my part would have failed to reach that conclusion without her. I didn’t know the message, but my heart did. Thank you, I thought. She nodded. 

 

Wordlessly, she turned to face a wall of keys, and handed me one. The tag read 1809 in perfect little italics. It was the clearest written numbers I could ever recall having seen in the city. 

   

    “Please, have a wonderful stay Andrea.”

Immediately, I turned to her and beamed a big, bright smile before boarding the elevator up. 

You are reading story These Dreams of Mine at novel35.com

My room was just around the corner from the elevator. I was in a hurry to get there, for some reason. Inside, what I found could only be described as my home away from home. A large vanity set was directly across the room from the door. A seated windowsill stuffed with throw pillows jutted out against the far wall beside it. A massive wardrobe stood some nine feet tall, nearly touching the ceiling, was placed off to the right. Finally, beside that a large king size bed with red linens had a single, stark white item laying on top of the sheets. It was an evening dress, and attached was a note, don’t be late, you’re wanted in the event center -Staff .

 

Not wanting to keep anyone waiting, I changed into the dress quickly. It fit me perfectly. I could tell by the sensation of the white satin on my skin that every inch of fabric had been cut to my measurements. A silver locket was hanging off of the vanity, the mirror nowhere to be found, but I knew in my heart this would complete my look for the evening. Unsure of what awaited me, I left the pleasant glow of my room.

 

The hallway was immaculate, a salacious deep red carpet draped down the center with some kind of shiny gold tile underneath. White trim and Mahogany wainscot panel molds accented the walls, and a dim golden glow came from every sconce. It was spacious for what appeared to be a hotel. Between every room was an end hall with crimson curtained windows and an arrangement of flowers on a little black console. 

 

I turned a corner and found what must have been the event center. The large dark doors were wide open, and a gentle melody came pouring out. I couldn’t put my finger on the song, but whatever it was perfectly complemented the view. A massive window spanned the room’s far wall, some fifty feet wide, depicting the city beyond the forest enclosure like a collage of lights and squares. Small dinner tables seated for couples sat empty on the perimeter, some in red cloth, some white. 

 

The same staff member from before was seated at the piano, black overalls and a white cotton polo underneath. Her hair was short and  buzzed in the back, that same dirty blonde hair rippling as her head slowly moved to the harmony. Something about her was familiar, I realized, but I couldn’t put a name to the face. Even when she was focused on the music, there was a subtle gentleness to her that made the room feel welcoming. I stepped closer, putting myself under a massive chandelier just a short distance from the piano.

 

There was someone else here, too, hidden by the piano just moments before. She stood with her palm against the glass, back turned. Her long black hair nearly covered the backless seam of her dress, navy blue in stark contrast to the crimson theming of the hotel. Low heels in a matching blue were visible under the perfect ankle cut of her dress, rippling like waves around her. 

 

She turned suddenly, not as if she had heard something, but felt someone. For the first time, I felt suddenly very aware of my appearance. The white flowing dress, medium length hair, and a little silver necklace resting, once cold, now warm against my skin. Another warmness came to my hand, and I looked up to see her take it and press it to her lips.

 

At this moment, I should have been paralyzed, but something about the song, the look in her eyes, the dresses, and the dreamy feel of it all made it feel… right. This was how it was supposed to happen. Just like that, a thought occurred to me.

    “Shall we dance?”I asked, in that voice, distinctly my own, but more lovely.

 

    “Yes, please.” She said without hesitation, her words directed to my eyes. I took her palm in mine, and our bodies seemed to form a waltz posture on their own. I had never ballroom danced, not in dreams or in the waking world, but perhaps embedded in my memories of the dance I had some sense of what it was supposed to feel like. 

 

However accurate that may have been, it was convincing. Delicate fingertips intertwined with mine, our cheeks pressed to one another; Warm breath rolling down our necks, over our breasts, and hearts pounding with each step. I could feel her breaths grow heavier, more labored, not from the strain of the movement, but of what we both knew we wanted. 

 

The song was reaching a crescendo, and with it, clarity. I knew it. Canon in D. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of the woman on the piano who was now looking at the both of us. I could swear, she hit the keys harder when our eyes met. My partner’s grip tightened ever so slightly, and I lifted my cheek from hers to look into her eyes. 

 

Those breaths were deep now, quivering under the weight of what should go unsaid, but would not go undone. I tilted my nose downward, and my lips parted. She did the same. Now we both knew. Her soft lips met my own, the ridges drifting frictionlessly in a wet heat. My arms dropped the dance to cradle her in my arms, but it felt as though our legs continued to spin us. 

 

In the heat of the moment, my eyes opened to find hers staring back at me, her green pupils glazed over in a state of ecstasy. Our kiss ended, but her soft whimpers continued to roll over me. I briefly wondered how I must have looked to her, before a cold shiver of a realization came over me: This is a dream, and you’ll wake up soon. 

 

Taking her by the hand, I pulled her out of the room and into the greater hallway. Soon we were running side by side, both knowing exactly where we intended to go. The room, our room, 1809. The sconces seemed to flicker in the wind as we passed, and the carpet kept stretching out longer than I recall, but the hallways and doors were right where they should be. Every second dragged on, and simultaneously, did not last long enough. I was afraid of losing her if I couldn’t see her, and she seemed to feel it, giving my hand a squeeze at every turn. 

 

Finally, at the end of the hall, around the corner from the elevator was our destination. The golden numbers displayed far more vividly than any normal dream could allow. I turned to my partner, who gave a somber nod of encouragement to open the door. I turned the knob, and stepped inside, before falling. Forward and down, into the dark.

Gooooooood morning everyone this is 96.1 KBLC The Bloc (The Bloc), bringing you all the classi-

 

I came down hard on the snooze button with a vengeance, the weird symbol on my hand still gleaming against the red digits as I withdrew it. My temples thumped, causing me to clamp down on both sides of my head to push my rapidly expanding blood vessels back in. Then, in the blink of an eye, I had the sudden urge to do just one thing, and I did it. I flipped over and screamed into my pillow until it hurt. For what, I wasn’t sure, but it felt like in the span of a single night, I’d lost more aspects of myself than I was ever aware of having existed in the first place.

You see, my name isn’t Andrea. It’s Noah, and that dream was the most passionate moment of my entire life.