by Tatiana Vila
Luckily, the vapory blobs of energy glowed in the night, each of them a dazzling bright color that allowed me to distinguish them one from another. I could imagine how the garden looked from the shimmering tower—a wide river crowded with prismatic, glowing globules, like a giant lava lamp. It was mesmerizing.
I willed my feet to keep going, lifting my hands to touch the souls that floated higher. None of them held warmth. I walked and walked, sinking myself deeper into the garden, veering to different directions and chasing some vapory blobs that felt like potential Buffys. Yet nothing. I didn't know how much time I spent like that, moving to every direction like a lost ant, until I sank to my knees with a heavy sigh and dropped my head into my hands.
So stupid of me to think this was going to be easy. Comus had told me and Andras had warned me, but deep down I'd always thought I was going to find her at first glance, like some kickass girl with superpowers. This was, after all, my dream. It should've been easy, not complicated. To my regret, I was starting to see the impossibility of finding my sister amid this glowing sea of souls.
For a moment, I wished all this energy would electrocute me and finish with this dream once and for all. But that would've meant giving up, and I couldn't give up, not even in a dream.
I looked up at the gray skies and its hyperactive stars amid occasional open spaces between high-floating colored blobs and hunched in exhaustion. Sis where are you? I thought with her image in my mind. Please, come to me Buffy. Just come.
I glanced at the far-away shimmering tower and dropped my gaze to the neon-grass beneath me in defeat. I don't know what it was that changed in the atmosphere—a shift in the pressure or temperature—but something felt entirely different. A light sensation, like my chest was suddenly being lifted by wings, saturated my heart. I looked up and floating in front of me, still, was a blue soul. An invisible ring seemed to be cast around us, making the two of us the only ones in that circular space.
I gasped at the swift insight that flashed into my mind. “Buffy?” I whispered, my voice flooded with uncertainty and hope. “Is it you?”
The long, blue blob remained still, as if expecting something.
I stood up and closed the distance between us. Could it be? Could Buffy have heard my calling? Only one way to find out, I guessed.
I swallowed and stretched out my hand. My breath caught when my fingers found the soothing embrace of warmth. “Buffy,” I murmured, my eyes brimmed with tears and happiness. “You're here. You're really here.” I stepped into the blue vapory mass and felt a soft pull at the back of my head.
Then, everything blurred.
CHAPTER 17
I was standing in a beautiful sunlit garden, facing a tall round fountain. The sky above was deep blue, filled with puffy white clouds, and the normal-looking grass was littered with friendly daisies.
I wasn't in Chimera anymore, that much was obvious.
Across from the fountain, two wide and low wooden chairs sat underneath the comforting shadow of a tree, and a couple of feet away, a blue and white picnic blanket was spread on top of the bladed grass. I walked, circling the fountain, and froze with a clench in my heart because of what I spotted sitting on the edge. Buffy.
Since the central pillar of the fountain was thick, I hadn't been able to see her from behind. She was wearing a yellow summer dress, its flowy skirt stopping below her knees, and a book was splayed wide open in her hands. This Buffy didn't look pain-stricken or sad like I'd expected; this Buffy was radiant and content. Could have Andras been right?
At the sound of my footsteps, she raised her gaze and looked at me. “You're here early,” she said with a smile, her blonde hair shining with strings of gold.
That bowled me over a bit. “What?”
She snapped her book shut and gave me a look. “You said you were going to shop for something, remember?”
Oh, I thought to myself. Somehow I ended up inside her dream. The dream-Dafne must've left to buy something. What was I supposed to say?
“Uh…Buffy, I—”
“And what are you doing dressed like that?” She shot me a disapproving look.
I looked down at my snug Rolling Stones t-shirt and stretch black jeans with a frown. “I've always dressed like this.”
“Not since you took my fashion advice,” she said with her chin high.
Is this what you dream about? About me changing my wardrobe?
“I—I just had a slip, I guess,” I stuttered at a loss of words. “You know how hard is to change…bad habits.” Not that I thought my style was one, but I was way too thunderstruck to contradict her in that moment.
“Yeah, I guess,” she said with a shrug.
“Look Buffy, I…need to tell you something.” I said, my hands shaky with nerves. “Just, please, listen to me and don't say anything until I finish, okay?”
“You're scaring me.”
“No need to be,” I said, shaking my head, and took in a deep breath. “You must come back with me to the real world, Buffy.” She opened her mouth to say something but I held up my hands to cut her off. “I know I said terrible and hurtful things that day when we talked about college and…Ian, and I'm really sorry. I never ever meant to hurt you. You and Gran are the most important people in the world for me, and without you, I just don't know how to go on. I need you, Buffy. I need you to leave this dream and come back with me. I promise I won't ever hurt you again.”
“Dream?” She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“All this”—I waved my hand around—”is a dream. Your dream.” I paused. Was it, really? Or was it mine?
“Did you hit your head or something?” she asked. “This is the real world, Dafne, our life.”
“No. In the real world you're in a coma, Buffy, lying in a hospital bed.”
“Are you—” she trailed off, a glint of something dimming the light in her eyes. My words must've triggered something deep down.
“Please, listen to that little voice inside you, Buffy.”
She looked at me. A stormy cloud of hesitation and doubt had fallen over her eyes. Then, confusion barged in, contorting her face in a mess of conflicting feelings.
“I need you, please come back with me.”
“Dafne,” said a familiar, soft voice. I snapped my head around and, as if my chest had exploded with emotion, my eyes watered with thick, hot tears.
“Mom?” I said in a very small voice. She was holding a big pitcher of fresh lemonade and Dad was standing next to her with a picnic basket in his hands. “Dad?” I whispered, the sound barely reaching my own ears. Both of them had white, button up shirts that framed their bodies loosely, and like Buffy, they looked radiant and filled with…life.
“Why do you look so surprised to see us, sweetheart?” Mom said with a frown and a smile. “You knew we were planning a picnic for today.” She walked to the blanket and placed the pitcher on the center. “I'm happy you decided to skip your little shopping trip.”
“Yep,” Dad said, settling the brown basket on the grass, next to the blanket. “Who would've thought you and dresses could get along so well. Though today isn't one of those days, isn't it?” He glanced at my t-shirt and black jeans with a smile.
Right in that moment, I thought I was going to die of sorrow and happiness, both emotions tearing me up from side to side in agonizing stretches. I remained there speechless, staring at them with hot rivers streaming down my cheeks, short of breath.
“Are you crying, sweetheart?” Mom asked with a tilt of her head, her heart-shaped face looking lovelier than ever under the golden sun.
Since I didn't answer, she moved towards me but stopped when I raised my hands. “Don't come any closer,” I said, as if my voice had gone through sharp blades of knife.
“Dafne?” Dad asked, worried, behind her.
I knew that if I allowed those arms to wrap around me, I would never leave this dream, because I was starting to ask myself if I really wanted to leave the soothing presence of
my parents. Their voice was like a balm to the gaping wound in my chest, it completed me. A caress of their hands or a trace of their warmth on my skin would be the last piece that would mean the end of this quest. I couldn't let them touch me.
But if this was only a dream, then why the worry? I could take this chance to bask in their presence and comfort and wake up bright and shiny the next day—maybe not bright and shiny but at least I would have a fleeting bandage on my heart. But…what if the microscopic possibility of this not being a dream existed? What if this isn't really a dream? That tiny little voice said deep down inside me. Should I listen to it, just like I'd asked Buffy to do?
“They're waiting for us,” Buffy said, standing up and brushing her skirt with her hands. I looked at her uncertain of what to do. “Dafne, let's go.”
“But I—”
“They're waiting for us!” She turned to glare at me, but a look of entreaty covered her face under that layer of anger. “Just stop it and…come.”
“Hey! Look what I got,” I said. Only it wasn't me.
A version of me had come and was standing a few feet away from my parents, spinning around to show them the dainty purple dress she'd, apparently, gotten herself. She stopped and shoved her hand excitedly in the bag she was holding and pulled out a colorful, flowery dress. “And look what I found for you si—” She trailed off as her violet eyes found mine.
It was the most bizarre experience seeing myself there in a dress, my own eyes staring at me in surprise. I froze for a moment, examining every detail of my body and face, as if I was seeing them for the first time, and finding things I'd never been able to see before. A mirror didn't give you this three-dimensional perspective.
But more than anything, it helped me find the answer I'd been looking for: this wasn't a dream. At least, not mine. This picture-perfect scene of me in a dress, with my parents dressed in white, waiting on a pristine picnic blanket, and pink and blue butterflies flying everywhere was far from being something my mind would design. Somehow, my dream of Chimera had crossed ways with Buffy's dream, and I'd been given a chance to talk to her and convince her to go back.
I unlocked my eyes from surprised dream-Dafne and stood up. “Buffy, do you really think the real me would wear something like that?” I told her, throwing a glance at the girly dress. “Or that the real me would buy you—God forbid—a flowery dress?”
Buffy swallowed, still hesitating on what to make of this.
“Come on, you're smarter than this,” I pressed.
She shook her head and brought her hands to her temples, as if to soothe the pressure of her rumbling thoughts within her head.
“Why would there be two of us in here if this was real?” I sighed.
That did it. Her body stiffened and her eyes closed in realization as the weight of that truth fell down on her. A shaky breath escaped her pale mouth and she covered her eyes with her hands.
I reached her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, whispering into her hair, “It's time to leave, Buffy. We need you.”
After a moment, she lifted her head and looked at me with pink rimmed, gleaming eyes, as if weighing something in her mind. Then, she turned her head and fixed her quiet, woeful stare on Mom and Dad. They smiled at us with pride and love shining in their eyes, a gesture that said they would love us no matter what, that we would always be in their hearts no matter what.
I had to fight with teeth and claws the desire to go up to them and hold them in a fierce hug forever. I wanted with all my heart and being to get lost in that embrace and cocoon of warmth and tell them they'd left us too early, but I couldn't. I couldn't. And Buffy knew she couldn't do that, either, or else she would stay here forever.
I dragged my eyes away from them and looked at Buffy, who still stared at Mom and Dad. “They're better now,” I said, my throat tight with piercing emotion. “They're in a better place than us—far better.”
As a sob started crawling its way up to my nose, she turned to look at me with her eyes filled with tears. “I miss them,” she said under her breath.
“I know.” I nodded, my voice weak.
“I miss them so much, Dafne.” She threw her arms around me and broke down in a cry.
For the first time since our parents died, we cried together, witnessing each other's pain without barriers or walls between us. No prejudices into play, no ego bounding us to act a way and mask our true selves—our emotions were raw, naked. Even if this wasn't happening in the real world, I knew it would stay within us, branded in the deepest of our cores.
She pushed back, her nose and eyes swollen, and looked behind me. “That dress doesn't even look good on you,” she told me with a small smile.
I followed her gaze and chuckled with a sniff. “Definitely not,” I agreed, looking at a confused dream-Dafne. “I look kind of funny when I frown,” I noticed.
Buffy cracked a weak laugh, not strong enough to become whole yet. “You do, but that's what guys would call 'cute.'“
I hugged her again and told her freely, “I love you, sis.”
Her arms tightened around me. “I love you, too.”
“Let's go back, okay?”
“Okay,” she sighed.
I closed my eyes with a smile and this time, instead of a pull, I felt a knock at the back of my head. Afraid of what that could mean, I snapped my eyes open, only to find I was back in the Garden of Wandering Souls, surrounded by glowing blobs and no Buffy.
And I was floating.
At the sudden realization, I fell to the ground with a loud thump and the air whooshed out of my lungs. Blades of neon-green grass crowded my field of view and a clawing ache grasped my chest in an iron-grip. I groaned and wrinkled my nose just to check if something inside was broken. Nothing. I sighed in relief.
Slowly, I pushed my head up and spotted my hand resting on a beautiful quartz crystal, and noticed it was warm. Since it conducted the energy to the to—
I jerked my hand back and bounced up in a flash, my heart pounding savagely. Andras words thundered through my mind. Make sure not to touch them since that'll alert guardians of a breach. I gulped and looked around me, my stomach clenching in fear. Was I being paranoid or were there, indeed, footsteps on the distance?
Oh, no. Oh, no.
I slapped my cheeks several times, trying to wake up from this dream, but the surreal landscape still remained. I sat down and closed my eyes; my lids were shaky and uncooperative, so I squeezed them shut and started taking in deep breaths.
Please, let this work. Please, let this work, I chanted inwardly.
Relaxation wasn't settling in and I was, actually, close to hyperventilating. The footsteps were getting near and faster. Since I was on the verge of being caught, I decided skipping that step was the best thing and jumped straight to step two: focusing on that weird spot in the back of my head. I drifted into darkness and, after what felt like endless hours, the vaporous tunnel appeared. I thought of Gran and the Lady, of Linda and—I grunted—Ian, and focused on the radiant light at the end of it. The brightness started pulling me and I let myself be engulfed by it. There was no singing or whispery twirls around my arms and legs, but I felt an immense sense of well-being.
The light went out and I opened my eyes.
A young nurse was checking something above me. She looked down to the notebook between her hands and wrote something on it. Then, when she saw my eyes were wide open and staring at her in confusion, she gasped and dropped her notebook and pen. “She's awake!” She turned around and ran to the door, screaming in disbelief. “She's awake! She's awake!”
“What?” I frowned and looked around, disoriented. Pale walls, white floors, bleach scents, boxy room, no window—oh, my God. I was in a hospital.
CHAPTER 18
“Dafne!” Ian strode into the room a few minutes later, his voice filled with awe and disbelief. He stopped next to my bed and scanned my face as if quenching a great thirst, like he'd been deprived of water for a long time and had fina
lly found a source. “I thought I would never—” He trailed off and grasped my hand. “You're awake,” he sighed, tightening his hold on me. “You're really awake.”
Speechless, I looked down at his hand over mine.
He noticed where I was looking and pulled back his hand. “Sorry, I just—” He shook his head and decided to veer the conversation in a different direction. “Comus left about an hour ago—I was downstairs talking to your grandmother on my cell phone when they told me about you. I already told her you're awake by the way,” he said, his emerald green eyes bright with happiness. “She spent two days here with you and had to come back to Buffy, so I stayed here.”
“What—what happened? Why am I here?” I asked, my voice a bit groggy.
“You fell into a coma—a weird type of coma, like all the others.” He paused. “I swear I wanted to kill Comus.”
“Why?”
“It all happened after you did that 'meditation exercise' with him. You fell down on the carpet and weren't responding. We brought you to the hospital—”
“Still in Oxford?” I interrupted.
“Yeah. You're the first coma case around here, so they jumped to help us right away,” he said. “Comus insisted you were in Chimera and that you just needed a bed to rest on—I swear, that man is crazy.”
I swallowed and restrained myself from commenting about my dream. Had it been a dream, though? I still wasn't sure.
“You've been here about four days…”
“Four days?”
“By far the shortest in time and the quickest to wake up,” he said, with a smile. “You'll be all over the news.”
I groaned. “Great.”
He looked at me and locked his intense eyes with mine. “Are you okay?” he asked, worried.
