Sunday, 1 February 2015

Reality Dreaming

My dog is missing. You are missing too. The world is in an uproar trying to find you, but I'm looking for her. Somewhere in my heart I know that I will find you together, but that she is the only one who might come when I call. 
It's dark, but also light. Puddles of white from street lamps, golden squares from open windows, a meteor shower of jumping torch beams. I know she will be in the dark, away from all the chaos. She will be somewhere in the shadows, out of reach of the pounding feet and panicked voices. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere she feels safe. 
You will be with her, but not really with her. 

My bare feet are silent on the dirt. It's soft and fine and caught up in the gaps between my toes. Wandering from shadow to shadow I call out to her. People are looking at me weirdly, probably because the name I'm calling isn't yours. Maybe also because I'm the only one without a torch in my hand. The only one slipping through the dark. They think I'm wasting my time, but I know something they don't. I know how to find you. I could tell them. I could let them help. But if they got to you before me? Somehow I need to be the one to do it. I need to be the one who finds you both.

A house looms out of the shadows ahead. No lights on. No one home. On one side the house is just a few inches above the ground but on the far side the ground drops away creating a kind of cave. It looks warm and dry and peaceful. This is where she will be. I have found her. I have found you. The wind whips my clothes against me. I am cold. 

Creeping up to the edge of the cave I finally see her, and you. Still as a stone she watches the chaos through a crack between the house and the ground. Something is wrong with her. Never have I seen her so calm and alert. She is too together. Too confident. Too something. She is not the girl I know. 
My voice is just a whisper as I choke out her name. She turns and the look in her eyes is so familiar that I completely forget where we are. She loves me. I love her. We are friends. 
She is pleased to see me I think. She has that look that dogs get when they want to show off.

Thick ropes of blood hanging from her trembling lips draw my gaze away from her soft and cheerful eyes. She looks proud to be holding you in her mouth. I don't know what part of you it is. It looks kind of like a knee. I don't suppose it really matters, but it's hard to stop my mind jumping to the facts. It's at least a slight distraction from the cold reality trickling down my spine.
The weight of blood soaked air it so heavy in my lungs. Each breath is like drowning. Drowning in the fact that you are dead. Drowning in you.
The dirt is muddy as I fall to my knees and with a lurch in my stomach I realise why. It's hard to imagine how so much blood could have fit inside one person, though you were always so much larger than life.

Time skips. Maybe this is all just a dream.
I am inconsolable. People look at me and I burst into tears. Eyes wide with horror, hands clutching at my chest, the tears run unchecked down my face. They drip off my chin onto the sun warmed timber floor. You are gone. I am here. An eternity of possibilities have been erased from my existence. You are gone. I'm still here.

With a start I wake to the morning light. It's soft. Soft as the tears tickling my cheeks.
You are getting married. I am all alone. You are dead. I am left alone, my subconscious mourning the loss of a life we will never have.

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