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eleven

T he darkness felt alive—breathing, pulsing—closing in from all sides, ready to swallow me whole. As my vision faltered, memories surged through my mind, a torrent of forgotten moments threatening to drown me.

It was as if a door in my subconscious had cracked open, releasing the faintest whisper of a long-forgotten dream, one that had sunk into the depths, waiting to resurface.

At first, it was just a flicker, a glimpse of something that wouldn’t quite form. But then, like a photograph developing in a darkroom, the pieces began to emerge, disjointed like shattered glass slowly falling into place. A snippet of conversation. A fleeting face. The feeling of weightlessness.

And then, all at once, the dream solidified, vivid and clear, as if no time had passed. I relived it in cinematic detail, every sensation, every emotion raw and immediate, as if happening in real time.

From the depths of my mind, a figure emerged: a tall, bronzed silhouette, his sharp features seeming carved by the gods. His eyes burned with an intensity that pierced the darkness, a gaze so powerful it made my heart race.

His search was palpable, the urgency in his expression almost tangible. He scanned the horizon as though everything he cared about depended on finding whatever he sought.

Then, as if my presence had drawn him in, he called out, his voice frantic, desperate, yet filled with longing: “Bryn…Bryn, baby, where are you?!”

My heart skipped a beat. I wanted to answer him, to reassure him, so I called back, “I’m right here!”

His eyes locked onto mine, and a wave of pure relief washed over his features. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward me, his long strides collapsing the invisible line that had separated us. When his hands touched my face, I felt a jolt of electricity, a tenderness both strange and familiar, like a part of me I’d forgotten .

He cupped my cheeks, his touch both gentle and insistent. His voice cracked, a confession of fear and longing. “I was so worried you wouldn’t be here.”

I placed my palms over his, offering silent reassurance, then searched his eyes—eyes that carried a weight I couldn’t comprehend. “I’ve been here the whole time,” I said softly. “You don’t have to be upset.”

But his gaze, those crystal-clear windows, told a different story. They revealed hidden pains, unspoken sorrows that had taken root in him. In a heartbeat, his expression shifted, twisting in anguish.

“Bryn, please ...” He squeezed his eyes shut, whispering, his voice breaking. “Tell me where you are.”

Confused, I gently pried his hands from my face, trying to calm him with a soft, reassuring smile. He looked at me, but it was like he was still trying to find me.

“I just told you. I’m right here.” I kept my tone steady, hoping to ease his panic.

Taking his hand, I led him down the winding trail. The roar of the water grew louder with every step until it nearly deafened me. Excitement rose in my chest as I spoke, the need to guide him forward pressing on me. “Come on, we’re almost there!”

And then, as we emerged from the forest, the massive waterfall came into view, its torrents of crystal water cascading down with awe-inspiring power. The roar of the falls echoed off the cliffs, the mist rising like a radiant halo in the air, creating a scene so beautiful it almost seemed unreal.

We settled into our usual spot on the weathered rock, the one we always return to in these recurring dreams. It felt like home, a quiet refuge where the soothing melody of the falling water wrapped around us like a tender embrace, softening everything but the stillness of the moment.

I lay back, feeling the rough stone beneath me, my body sinking into its familiar contours. He mirrored my movement, lowering himself beside me. His eyes turned to face me, intense, as though he believed the answer was written behind my eyes.

“Why here?” he asked softly, his voice carrying a trace of something unspoken, thoughtful and low.

I let out a quiet sigh, my eyes fluttering shut as I gave in to the tranquility, the rush of falls filling the space around us. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “But this place…it makes everything feel okay. It calms the fear inside me, lets me breathe here. Nothing else matters.”

The breeze stirred my hair, lifting the strands like a soft caress. Golden sunlight bathed us, imbuing the scene with a vibrant sense of reality. And him—oh, him—so vivid, so alive. I almost convinced myself this wasn’t just a dream.

I reached for his hand, my fingers curling around his. My pulse quickened, a mix of longing and something deeper, something urgent. “This place,” I murmured, my voice barely a breath, “is my slice of heaven. Whether I’m awake or asleep, it’s where I feel safe. It’s my waterfall. And you…” I let the words trail off, uncertain but filled with a need that swallowed everything else. “You’re the piece that makes it whole.”

His eyes widened, drinking in the scene like it might vanish at any second. “You’re saying this place is real?” he asked, wonder and disbelief braided into every word. He looked around slowly, absorbing every fragment like it held answers.

I cupped his face, guiding his attention back to mine. “Yes, but you’re not,” I whispered, the truth heavy between us. “You’re not real. Let’s indulge in this fantasy a little longer, before it’s gone.”

I nestled closer, letting the cool scent of cedar and pine fill my lungs. His presence was grounding, a fleeting sense of belonging.

As I gazed deeper into his eyes, the world around us blurred and twisted, like paint bleeding into water, colors running, the edges softening, fading. It felt as if the very fabric of the dream was unraveling. And then, a brutal jolt—my consciousness ripped from one world to another, the dream collapsing and reforming in an instant.

I stumbled forward, vision blurring, straining to orient myself in the dark, oppressive surroundings. Fear coursed through my veins like ice. The air felt suffocating, wrapping around me like a shrinking cage. The darkness swallowed everything, but I could sense him, his unwavering presence in the chaos.

I reached out, trembling, fumbling for him. His grip was solid, an anchor in the storm. I clutched his hand, desperate, unwilling to let go.

“We have to get out of here, NOW!” I screamed, the words raw, ripped from panic. The seconds shattered around us, shadows closing in, faster, as if they had a will of their own. I knew we had no time.

“What are we running from, Bryn?” His tone, impossibly calm, cut through the hysteria.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Instead, I pulled him forward, eyes fixed on the swirling black ahead, where the shadows seemed to move with purpose.

“The shadows!” I shrieked, my voice small against the face of terror. “They’re closing in! Can’t you see them?!”

But my words dissolved into the air, useless against my fear.

His hand tightened around mine, pulling me to a halt. “Bryn, stop,” he murmured, his voice calm, like it could shield me from something unseen. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. They can’t touch you.”

I barely heard him through the wind howling through the forest, branches creaking under the strain of darkness. The trees twisted, their limbs contorting like skeletal hands, trying to ensnare us. Dead leaves swirled around our feet, sharp and biting. The forest whispered around us, speaking a language even the wind had forgotten.

I couldn’t make his face out in the depths of night, but his eyes, flickering like dying embers, shone with a steady light that cut through the shadows.

“How do you know?” I demanded, desperation curling in my throat. “How do you know they won’t hurt me?”

His voice deepened, like the forest was breathing through him. “You’re the key to everything, Bryn,” he said, with unearthly certainty. “You hold all the power. The very fabric of our fate lies in your hands.”

His words struck me like lightning, the force too immense to fully grasp. I parted my lips, searching for something—anything—to say, but sound had abandoned me. The wind stilled. The trees’ whispers fell silent. Even time seemed to pause.

Then, without warning, my mind was pulled into eerie stillness. The world fractured, bleeding into another reality. The sky was dull, gray, as if the heavens themselves were suspended in anxious silence. Thunder rumbled in sync with my heart, an ominous premonition.

The storm was coming.

A shiver of unease crawled through me, like the echo of something forgotten. This dream felt different, a harbinger, a warning, but I couldn’t pinpoint why. It was like trying to hold moonlight, only to watch it slip through my fingers .

The familiar figure appeared once more, but he seemed…off. His presence flickered, half-formed, as if born from the deepest recesses of my subconscious. He looked almost unreal now, like a ghost, a being untethered from the world and slipping further away.

“Where are you, Bryn?” he asked, his voice hoarse, filled with a restless longing, now haunted by something darker.

“I’m right here. I’ve always been,” I said, steady with certainty.

The same question, over and over. Yet every time I answered, the desperation in his eyes stayed the same.

He stared around, his gaze faltering, as if hunting for a thread of recognition. “I don’t know this place,” he said, panic creeping into his words. “You’ve never brought me here before.”

My eyes swept across the desolate landscape, struggling to make sense of it. The land stretched endlessly, a barren expanse untouched by time. The air felt thick with emptiness, slowly suffocating us.

“I’m just as confused as you,” I admitted. “I’ve never imagined a place like this, and to be honest, I don’t like it here.”

He glanced up at the sky, where clouds twisted ominously. A storm was forming, but a strange chill crept through the wind—unnatural, devoid of rain.

He became frantic, his movements sharp and erratic as he surveyed the empty landscape. His eyes darted, searching for something, but there was nothing: only the hollow void.

“It’s all slipping away,” he said, his voice strained, as though each word took him closer to losing everything. “I’m running out of time.”

I rushed to him, a tight, gnawing need driving me forward, and seized his hands. But they felt like smoke, there one moment, gone the next.

“What’s happening?” I shook, my voice unsteady, my mind clouded with confusion. “Why do I feel like I’m losing you?”

He looked down at me, his eyes shimmering with emotion, as though he were on the verge of breaking. His hand gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, a gesture so tender it nearly broke my heart.

“You will never lose me,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. He pulled away from my grasp, his eyes filled with painful understanding, as if he’d accepted something he couldn’t change. “But I have to leave now.”

A crushing pressure settled over me, the distance between us stretching impossibly far, as if the world itself was unraveling.

“NO!” I cried out. Closing the gap, I grabbed his hands, my fingers trembling, my chest tightening as a heavy ache spread through me. “Take me with you,” I pleaded, but I saw it in his eyes. The answer was already there, even before he spoke .

He raised my palms, cupping them against his face, and leaned down until his forehead rested gently against mine. The heat of his skin was like a quiet defiance against the cold emptiness closing in around us.

“I wish I could,” he breathed, shaking his head. “But…it’s not possible right now.”

I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of him, feeling the steady rhythm of his pulse beneath it and the solid weight of his body pressing against mine. I needed to hold on, though I couldn’t quite understand why. I didn’t even know him—not really, not even his name—but the thought of him leaving felt like it would tear my soul in two.

“Why does this goodbye feel like a lifetime?” I whispered, my voice breaking as tears began to stream down my face.

His thumb gently wiped away the wetness from my cheek. “It’s never goodbye for us, Bryn. It’s always until next time.”

His lips brushed mine in a kiss that felt like an ethereal memory, leaving behind the ghost of its touch.

When I opened my eyes again, he was gone. Vanished like mist.

I reached out, but my fingers clawed at emptiness, the world falling away beneath them.

Then I looked at my hand, burning with unnatural heat. My wedding ring throbbed, glowing an orange, molten hue. My blood ran cold .

As my fingertips brushed the ruby, my vision warped, twisting as reality tore at the seams.

With a sickening lurch, the dream collapsed, and I was pulled back into the waking world.