Blue Aspen

by Tenaya Jayne

  My eyes began to burn with the tears I was attempting to repress. No one in the world had cared for me. No one ever paid attention. Now I found myself in a woman’s body, with massive amounts of confusion and questions. But there was no one to ask. My Uncle was the only human in the world who loved me, and now he was gone. I wished I had a boyfriend, so I could enjoy this time alone in the house, doing things I wasn’t supposed to.

  Well, if I can’t have a real one, I’ll just have to dream about one, I thought. The face in my dream came back to me. I closed my eyes and sighed.

  "If only he was real," I said aloud.

  I was exhausted. The events of the day had drained me emotionally. Yawning, I stood up and turned off the TV. The silence rolled in like the tide. I hesitated, wondering if I should turn the TV back on. I didn’t. I left all the lights on and went upstairs to go to bed. I went into my uncle’s bedroom to look at the control panel. I knew just looking at it would make me feel safer, to see the little red light next to the "alarm on" button. Everything was armed, and everything was locked. I left his room and shut the door behind me.

  I was suddenly holding my breath. Something was wrong. I could feel eyes on me. I listened very hard, thinking I would hear someone breathing behind me, or the sound of the floor creaking. I strained my ears, but the silence was not broken, it remained intact.

  I took a deep breath. There was nothing. I became angry with myself. How are you going to get through this if you continue to indulge your imagination?! Stop being so stupid. If there was someone there, the alarm would go off. You know it’s on, you just looked for yourself!

  Once I finished chastising myself, I went back into my uncle’s room and went straight for the gun. I decided to keep it in my room until I had better control over my mind. Holding it in my hand gave me enormous empowerment. Now that I was alone, I was very thankful to have it, and thankful I knew how to use it.

  Going into my room, I shut and locked the door behind me. I gently put the gun down on my bedside table. After turning on the radio, I changed into my pajamas. I knew I was going to have a hard time of it that night. Sleep would evade me until I could no longer stay awake. I turned on my fire before turning off the light, and settled into bed with my book. Switching on the reading lamp, I opened to the first page. Another folded scrap of parchment fell onto my lap. I didn’t question if I should read this one or not, and unfolded it greedily.

  Our love story is better than this one. -V

  The simple sentence was just as beautiful as the last one. I placed it on the bedside table and turned back to the book. I quickly became engrossed in the story. It was everything I wanted it to be, true love, real romance. When I reached chapter two, another note fell from the book. I was thrilled. I started to feel like these enigmatic notes had been written to me.

  They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, anyone looking in my eyes would see

  you. -V

  I sighed heavily. That was the most touching of them all. I put it next to the other and continued reading. The story became more and more addictive. I didn’t skim at all. My whole body was protesting that I was still awake, but my mind was not willing to stop reading. Chapter 3 produced yet another note.

  My touch will heal, my eyes will burn you up inside. Look at me. –V

  This note didn’t make me feel the way the others did. This one was strange. I felt certain that Vivian had not written this. I read it over and over, trying to draw a conclusion about what the writer was trying to convey. I still liked what it said, but it just wasn’t the same as the others. Not wanting to wait for more notes, I thumbed through to the next chapter and sure enough, a note fell out.

  Trust in me, believe in me, and you will always have shelter in me. -V

  I fanned forward again, there was another one.

  If I could go back to the moment of your birth, I would pull you out of your mother and never let her touch you again. -V

  My heart quaked within me and a strange sound escaped my mouth without my consent. It was a cry of pain, like that of a wounded animal. Tears rushed from my eyes and my hand was shaking, holding the note. Why was I crying? These demented little notes were not for me. How could they be? There was no sense to this. I stared at the little note and became angry. I gritted my teeth together and wadded the parchment into a tiny ball. I wrestled with the desire to throw it into the fire, but I couldn’t make myself. I held it tightly in my fist, debating, until my palm began to sweat. I growled through the tears and un-wadded the note. I looked at it again and trembled more violently. I knew, all too clearly, why those few words made me react that way, and that knowledge did not comfort me. If someone had written this to me, it would have meant more than all the others combined. I laughed, humorlessly, to myself. Boy, was I screwed up, or what? I smoothed out the paper, re-folded it, and placed with the others.

  I took a few deep breaths, waited for my body to relax, turned the book spine up, and shook it. Two more notes fell out, the last ones.

  Don’t be afraid. I am incapable of harming you, physically or emotionally. I’m waiting outside. -V

  My breath caught in my chest. I felt a strong trepidation as I held the last note. I opened it slowly as my blood ran cold.

  Dulcee, come to the window.

  I had no choice. I got out of bed. I had a hard time standing because I was shaking violently. The adrenaline accelerating through me was causing my heart to pump so hard, it hurt. I stood, momentarily undecided, before reaching for the gun. Holding it made me feel stronger, defiant.

  I reached for the drapes and jerked them aside. I was not going to cower, I was no victim! My eyes took a second to adjust to the moonlight, but once they did, I could see everything. My terrace was empty except for the piles of snow. But down below, it was just as it had been in my dream. He was there, looking up at me from the edge of the lake. I flashed through the strangest mixture of emotions anyone ever had; panic, wonder, longing and hesitation. Not to mention confusion.

  "I’m dreaming," I whispered.

  He nodded. Then I heard his voice in my ear as if he was right next to me.

  "Close your eyes, Dulcee."

  All the fear left me, replaced with excitement. I was dreaming again. I loved dreaming! I closed my eyes, as he had commanded, hastening to go deeper into my personal mystery. I inhaled deeply, before my equilibrium tilted. I felt thrown upside down in a wind tunnel. I tried to open my eyes, but they were glued shut. I was falling fast down the rabbit hole. I wanted to scream out in a wild exultation. What a rush! I assumed this was what skydiving must feel like. I thrust my arms open wide into the air, like a gliding bird. My whole body was quivering with adrenaline as the ride slowed and stopped abruptly. I could feel the ground under my feet again. I laughed aloud with joy, unashamed like a child. I fell on my hands and knees in the snow.

  "Open your eyes," he whispered.

  I was outside, beside the lake, exactly where I had just seen him. He wasn’t there anymore. I rolled back onto my rear and brushed the snow from my palms. I smiled in ecstasy as I looked down at myself. I was wearing my blue nightgown. I ran my fingers lightly over the silky material. I was really becoming attached to it. I looked around to see where he had gone. He was nowhere in sight, but there were footprints leading off into the forest.

  "Come." His whisper floated on the breeze.

  I stood up eagerly, and began to follow in his steps. It didn’t take long before I spotted the blue aspen up ahead. I kept walking, knowing this was where he must be. It wasn’t snowing this time, but the sky was dark, the moon full and directly overhead. There were no magic gold snowflakes this time, but the clearing was the same otherwise.

  As I approached it, I slowed my pace. He was there, standing under the blue tree, waiting. His face was calm, but also expectant as he watched me come closer. Goose bumps surfaced on my skin and I felt myself blush under the icy ocean of his eyes, but I did not look away. This was my dream, after all, why should I be se
lf-conscious?

  The moonlight illuminated his fair skin and shone on his long, glossy black hair, which had a slight wave to it. He was tall and broad and looked commanding. Everything he wore was black, black pants, black boots, black trench coat. His coat hung open and billowed ever so slightly in the breeze, along with his hair.

  I stopped about ten feet from him. I inhaled deeply, feeling nothing but pleasant. I knew I was asleep, but I was also oddly awake. Just as it had been before, everything was a little off, including me. My thoughts and emotions were not quite what they would have been if I was really standing before such a strangely gorgeous person.

  The goose bumps piqued and rolled through my whole body. He was looking at me in a way I had never been looked at before. I had no defense, his beauty was debilitating to me. But there was something else there, a complexity to him, an edge to his looks and demeanor.

  It was obvious to me that this was no spineless pretty boy, or cowardly abuser. This was a real man in every sense of the word. I would have been hard pressed to guess his age, In appearance, he looked about twenty-one or twenty-two, but his eyes caused the confusion. The fabric of his interior came through, in the ocean of his eyes. Looking into his eyes, I couldn’t help but feel trust. The silence between us, as we gazed at each other, was not uncomfortable.

  "I like it here," I said, smiling.

  My smile was returned. "I’m glad," he said. "I knew you would."

  It was the first time I had heard his voice, other than a whisper, and I liked that too. His voice was like the rest of him, just right, and made me feel peaceful.

  "I’m sorry about all this," he said, waving his hand around.

  I was confused. I certainly didn’t feel like I needed an apology. Before I could ask him to clarify, he went on.

  "It had to be this way, so I wouldn’t scare you. I feel bad for having to draw it out the way that I have, dream after dream. Keeping you in suspense. It’s really not the way I would have chosen to introduce myself. Unfortunately, I don’t believe there was a better way…Only in a dream would you not react the wrong way. We can talk calmly, and you are at peace despite the strangeness, because after all, it’s just a dream."

  I thought about that for a moment. I thought about the other dreams I had been having, the book, and the notes. They were all just glimpses of him, preliminaries. I took two steps closer to him, closing in the space between us. He smiled.

  "Who are you?" I asked.

  "Vincent Sands."

  I smiled more broadly. "That’s my favorite name, you know, Vincent."

  His smile grew broader, too. "Actually, I did know that."

  "So is that your real name, or are you just saying that because I like it?"

  "It’s my real name."

  I took another step closer to him. If we both held out our hands, we could have touched.

  "I know you think that you’re dreaming, but that is only half-truth. You are in fact asleep, but your mind is in a heightened state of lucidity. Your brain has never been as active as it is right now, not to mention your spirit. You are dreaming, but there is something more to this dream that will not vanish when you wake up."

  "What?"

  "Me."

  I heard my sharp intake of breath. I looked more closely at him. He didn’t move. My eyes darted around, taking in everything I could see. Everything was a little hazy, blurred, except him. He was perfectly clear, solid.

  "You see?" he asked.

  My brow furrowed with indecision. I didn’t answer.

  "I’m real, Dulcee. Quite different from you, but just as real. The dreams you had last night, I sent those to you. I know you. I feel what you feel…I know you, even better than you do. You are not even aware of your needs the way I am. You will come to see that in time, and we have lots of time. You and I have a never-ending future."

  "I’m not sure I believe you…But this dream is different from the others. I can feel it. Why is that?" I asked.

  "That’s because I’m making it. Your mind is the medium, and I am the artist."

  I stood still, scrutinizing him. "Well then, Rembrandt…If you want me to believe you, paint something."

  "I’m happy to oblige. Is there something in particular you would like?" he asked, lightly amused.

  "It seems to me, that you already know my likes quite well. Make anything, just as long as it’s surreal."

  He nodded and put both his hands together, as if praying. He opened his hands, holding them together as if he was cupping water and then a flood of color burst forth from his palms. I gasped as the color came rushing at me. It swirled around me like a tornado, lifting my hair in all directions, and whispering my name. I closed my eyes, hard, for a second, and then opened them again. I laughed aloud with delight, as I saw what the flying color really was. Hundreds, maybe thousands of butterflies. They were the ones whispering my name.

  The multicolored twister of insects buffeted me from head to toe with their delicate, feathery wings. I laughed all the louder, as they continued to tickle me. But the whole thing only lasted a few seconds. The butterflies began to break ranks and drift upwards. I watched them go, still calling to me, in their minuscule voices. Then they transformed into steam, and dissipated into nothing.

  I sighed as they left and looked back at Vincent. "Thank you. That was wonderful!"

  His eyes were suddenly very sober and intense.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "There’s something I want to tell you, but…" he hesitated, looking torn.

  "Please," I said, suddenly desperate to hear whatever it was. "Tell me."

  "Do you trust me?" he asked, searching my face intently.

  I examined my own emotions as I was washed in the tide of his eyes. I did trust him. Wasn’t he, after all, some kind of strange extension of myself? Coming face-to-face with him was almost like looking in a mirror, figuratively of course. So I guessed the real question was did I trust myself? I was sure of my answer. There was nothing here to rationalize. It didn’t matter that we had just been introduced, or perhaps, that I had lost my mind. How do you analyze magic? Right here and now all there was to consider was instinct and feeling. All the rest did not belong in this world.

  He waited anxiously for my answer.

  "Yes. I trust you…Please, don’t be afraid to tell me anything."

  "I love you." He blurted it out as though it had been bottled up inside him and he just couldn’t wait any longer.

  I shivered, goose bumps rolling though my body again. He looked more anxious now, watching me respond. What the hell? I thought. Wait, what does it matter? I'm dreaming, right? Hell, I love you, too, sexy dream guy.

  "I have been waiting to tell you that I love you for so long. I thought I might burst open, keeping it in any longer." He looked vulnerable.

  "You’ve only just met me."

  "Oh no, Dulcee. It’s you who has only just met me. I have known you for quite some time."

  "Okay…But…"

  "Will you let me prove it to you?" he asked.

  I raised one eyebrow and smiled. "Please," I urged him.

  He smiled back, happily relaxed at my response, and took a small step toward me, the distance between us lost.

  "I cannot prove it to you in any normal way," he warned me, his voice just a little more than a whisper.

  "I suspected as much."

  "What I can give you…is far superior to any of those things."

  I smiled in encouragement, ready for whatever.

  He slowly reached for my hand. My heartbeat quickened. I could hear my pulse thumping loudly in my ears. He drew me closer to him and held my hand flat to his chest. For the first time since I had been sucked into this dream, did I feel something I knew to be real, the lucid sensation of being touched. The nerve endings in my fingertips responded to the pressure of his flesh beneath them. I felt his heart pounding inside his chest. The sound of my own pulse grew even louder, and then I could hear his heartbeat as well. Our hearts wer
e beating loudly in opposition. And then both our rhythms altered. I choked on my breath, as my heart restarted, keeping time with his. The sound seemed to fill the whole forest, our hearts becoming one, beating as one.

  "Look into my eyes," he whispered.

  I did. The ocean in his eyes stormed momentarily, and then came the fire. The icy water of his eyes evaporated. His pupils vanished in blue flames, his irises turning into tunneled orbs of frozen fire. My eyes widened and my pupils dilated painfully. Then I felt it. The cold burn entered my heart. I was unable to breathe. He lit a fire in my chest, literally. And he ruined me, completely. In one second, I was irrevocably addicted. My mind reeled against it, but my body screamed out in ecstasy. I no longer could think of questions, only this feeling mattered. Every hair stood on end, and every pore buzzed with the aching, pleasurable pain that our pulse was pounding through me.