Bridge Between the Worlds

by R. B. L. Gillmore

  “That’s alright. It’s perfectly normal in your final year at school to feel stressed and overworked. Just let us know if you need any help managing it.”

  Her father’s voice was calm and soothing. With this remark, the conversation was over. They had finished their drinks and after a brief period of soothing quiet the three of them got up and made their way to bed. It had been a long day for all of them.

  Exhausted, Amy let herself practically fall into bed. She was thinking over the odd dreams again. She tried not to. She was starting to obsess and that wasn’t good. Whether it was happy, sad, terrifying or just plain bizarre, in the end, a dream was just a dream. It had no bearing on real life so there was no point getting worried about the occasional odd one. With that she rolled herself tightly in her blankets, closed her eyes and was asleep within seconds.

  Amy was making her way down the path through the park, trying hard to catch up to Martay. Her legs still felt leaden and sluggish which was frustrating, but she pressed on nonetheless. The sun gleamed coldly through the gaps in the tree branches, leaving only faint shadows across the ground. The autumn leaves brushed her shoes and she strode through them. They swirled like ripples in disturbed water, but they didn’t seem to make any noise.

  The twists and bends in the path seemed nearly endless to Amy and she still had not caught so much as a glimpse of her friend. She wasn’t worried about missing him. She was quite certain she knew where he was heading but the uneasy feeling building up within her pressed her to hurry. It wasn’t too much further at least. Martay would be in the clearing she told herself, no doubt doing some painting.

  It felt like it took an age before she finally reached her destination. At the familiar point she left the path and made her way right, towards the thick line of trees which hid the clearing from sight. She quickly passed through the gap between them and found Martay exactly as she had expected, completely engrossed in his art.

  His brow was furrowed as he slowly drew his brush across the heavy canvas in long, upward, sweeping arcs. His palette was covered in a mix of rich autumn golds and reds along with, oddly, various shades of silvery grey. He was using very delicate brushes and was being meticulous about the details he applied to his work. He was by no means trying to rush it or to cut corners but his hand was moving back and forth at an impressive, rapid pace, almost as if he had some kind of deadline to meet for the painting. Amy approached him quietly, not wanting to disturb him until he was ready to pause from his work. He looked up at her for an instant but otherwise completely ignored her. He was focusing all his attention on his brush strokes. Amy remained silent, watching and waiting patiently.

  It was a solid five minutes before Martay finally turned to greet Amy properly after a calculating look at the job so far. He gave her a smile but didn’t try to hug her. He was covered in paint.

  “What are you working on this time Maestro? I thought you’d already painted our whole clearing from one corner to the other… twice!” Amy remarked.

  Martay looked at her with an expression that was jammed somewhere between amusement, excitement and confusion. He started washing off the brushes he had been using.

  “I thought so too but this is strange.” He dried his hands on his pants. “I went looking through all my sketch books and I’ve never painted the big old tree in the middle of the clearing. I don’t understand it. We have come here thousands of times. I’ve done so much painting here!” He paused momentarily and shifted his gaze to look at the tree in question. “But I never once thought to paint the old tree? I mean, you couldn’t ask for a more interesting object to paint. It has such a wonderful set of shapes and shades. The way that it twists around and its colours, they’re almost… from another world or something. I can’t remember ever seeing another tree that looked anything like this one.”

  In turn, Amy also turned to look at the tree and immediately had to agree with what Martay was saying. He often got overly “artsy” as Amy called it and she usually laughed at him when he did. Not in a negative way. In fact, his passion for art was something that Amy really liked about him, not that she always saw things the same way. This time though, she had to agree he was absolutely right. It wasn’t just an artsy exaggeration. She also understood why he was so surprised at not having ever painted it before. He had certainly painted everything else around it which was a lot more plain and boring. The tree was like nothing else she had ever seen. Its smooth, silky looking bark was really more silver than it was grey, and as such, the sunlight danced off it like light on the surface of deep water at sunset. Its leaves were all rich gold or red. Not a single one was brown. Its branches were the strangest part. They didn’t grow untidily outward from the trunk like other trees. They formed around each other in beautiful, arching, upward spirals like the arms of a ballerina spinning a pirouette. And yet… something about the tree was wrong. Just looking at it gave Amy a strange feeling inside. Somehow, she instinctively knew that the tree was the source of her uneasiness. It exuded a surreal atmosphere which made the onlooker uncomfortable. It was almost too perfect, too flawless. It wasn’t real. Everything else in her dream was almost painfully detailed. The details stood out at her all the time, but the more she tried to focus on the details of the tree the more it just seemed to blur.

  She slowly walked towards the tree. The sense of unease and apprehension that she had been feeling increased with every single step that she took so that she felt her body was practically vibrating by the time she was only a meter or two away from its base.

  There were no creases or crevices lining the bark, no kinks or uneven bends in a single one of the branches, not one angle was out of place. Amy was now level with the roots that rippled up out of the earth. She stepped carefully in between them, avoiding the wood for as long as she could, but as she advanced, driven by a sudden burning compulsion, she lifted her arm and stretched her hand out towards the trunk. Her reaching fingers were merely inches away when a voice behind her called out her name loudly.

  “Amy!”

  Amy woke with a start and nearly jumped out of her bed in a fit of convulsive movement. She was sweating like crazy from head to toe, still tightly wrapped in her fluffy doona, though now it was dense and heavy with her own perspiration.

  “Amy! Breakfast is ready and if you don’t come down soon it’s going to go cold. It’s nearly ten thirty already!”

  Amy’s father was shouting, clearly from downstairs since his voice was rather muffled. This time she jumped intentionally out of bed and hurried herself to the shower. The sweat on her body made the chill morning air feel even colder than usual and she shivered uncontrollably as she waited for the water to run hot. Finally, the bathroom filled with a plume of steam as the hot water blasted through.

  Her mind was working in overdrive, running through the three strange dreams. She needed to talk about the dreams with somebody else or they were going to drive her crazy and since she didn’t want to tell her parents there was only one obvious option. She wasn’t sure how Martay would react, especially since he was a part of the dreams. She suddenly worried that he might take it the wrong way if she told him about this. What if he thought that telling him about the dreams was Amy’s way of expressing interest him? She quickly dismissed the thought. Martay wasn’t that immature. She wondered for a moment where the irrational fear had come from? To the best of her knowledge he had never seen Amy as anything more than a friend anyway. She shook herself and got her thoughts back on track. She needed a chance to talk to him without anyone else around. With frustration, she realised that she couldn’t do anything about it today, not without offending her parents or making them ask awkward questions. No, she was going to have to wait until tomorrow when her friends had planned to meet up in the city. The only trick would be to get Martay alone at some point to talk without Michelle and Richard listening in.

  The day passed at a painfully slow pace for Amy. Her mind was filled with increasingly unrealistic and disturbing ideas about
what could be happening to her mentally. She had heard about people having repetitive dreams. Those happened all the time. But this wasn’t a repeating dream. These dreams had been a flowing sequence, linking perfectly from one to the next, almost like she had been watching a movie that was put on pause when she woke up and continued when she slept again. Furthermore, the dreams themselves felt unusual. There was something undefinably different about them. Was she going crazy? Would Martay understand? Maybe he would think she was overreacting… Maybe she was! Regardless, she knew he wouldn’t make fun of her and that he would at least take her seriously. She tried to stop looking constantly at her phone to check the time. Not only did it make the time feel like it was moving more slowly, it also tempted her to text Martay about what was going on. She didn’t want to do that. In a text he might not understand, or treat it like some kind of joke. No, she wanted to talk to him in person.

  The day with her parents was mostly filled with discussions about the trip Amy’s parents had taken, along with a fair amount of shopping in the streets around Vörösmarty tér. Amy was given a brief reprieve from her own thoughts while they stopped in the afternoon to indulge in the cakes at the Gerbeaud Café, one of Budapest’s best and most renowned culinary spots. It was difficult to be consumed by paranoid thoughts whilst enjoying any of the varied and decadent choices at Gerbeaud. Regrettably it was only brief and soon they were making their way home.

  By the time she awoke the next day, morning had well and truly broken. She wasn’t sure how she had managed to sleep in but it had been much needed. Thankfully she had been unvisited by any bizarre dreams. When she retrieved her phone from the bed side table she discovered that her friends had already messaged her to say they were on their way to Margitsziget (Margaret Island), a fairly large island situated in the middle of the Danube.

  There had been some back and forth messages between Richard, Michelle and Martay which Amy quickly scrolled through. To her sweeping relief, she saw that Martay had decided to stay at home and wait for Amy rather than head straight to the island so that they could catch the tram together. It was perfect. She would be able to talk to him alone and wouldn’t have to wait for an opportunity to get away from the others.

  She shot off her own message to say that she would be ready to leave soon and asked Martay to meet her at her house if that was convenient. They could leave together from there. After that she got ready as fast as she possibly could. Martay lived very close by and he was clearly already awake and ready to go.

  Not surprisingly, the doorbell rang within minutes, leaving Amy no time at all to eat. That was ok though, she could easily grab some food in town. She ducked into the living room where she found her parents relaxing, wished them a good day and then rushed back to the front door which revealed Martay waiting patiently as she swung it open.

  They set off together down the hill towards the bus stop. They would need to catch the bus all the way to Moscwa tér, which was apparently going to get a name change soon, then they could catch a tram to the island. The day was cool but otherwise very pleasant when they were in the sun, which still lent a degree of warmth. They started off the conversation with a few pleasantries and Martay asked how Amy’s parents were. Amy let the talk drift. Now that she actually had a chance to talk to Martay, she found it was hard to bring up her problem. How did you start talking about something like this casually?

  “Martay, I, ummm…” she was looking down at her feet and she only spoke hesitantly, which, had she known it, gave a very different impression than she had intended. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about something that’s been bothering me. It’s a bit embarrassing really.”

  Now it was Martay's turn to feel nervous and on edge. It seemed like Amy might be about to talk about the two of them. Had she realised how he felt about her? Did that bother her? What if she didn’t want to be friends anymore?

  “Sure,” he replied simply, “You can always tell me anything you like, even if it is a bit… embarrassing.”

  He smiled at her nervously and realised she looked just as nervous as he felt. It wasn’t the look of someone about to try and distance themselves.

  “Lately I’ve been having these strange dreams and I don’t mean like, normal kind of strange…which, come to think of it sounds really stupid and contradictory,” she was rambling nervously. Martay started to wonder where on earth this conversation was going, “but they’re different. It’s sort of like I’m having one long dream that’s been split into parts and I see the next part each time I fall asleep.”

  Martay's expression changed from nervous anticipation to total surprise. Whatever he had been expecting, this was obviously something different. He felt relieved that the problem wasn’t to do with him but wasn’t sure how to respond to what Amy was saying. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something but he had been taken so off guard that he hadn’t reacted in time.

  “You must think it sounds really childish to be worried about a dream.” Amy said with embarrassed resignation.

  “Not at all!” he responded, glad he at least knew how to respond to this kind of comment, “Did you want to tell me what you’ve been dreaming about? Maybe it has something to do with things happening in your life? I’m sure it’s normal to dream about problems you have in your day.”

  Amy looked up again gratefully. For a moment she had thought this one was going to seem too ridiculous but as ever, he was being understanding. She positively exploded with speech, talking him through every little detail. She described exactly what had happened in the dream, where she had been, what she had done and seen. She explained the strange feelings she had both asleep and when she woke up. She emphasised how perfectly aligned each of them were.

  Once she had finished they both remained silent for a time as Martay absorbed the information and Amy waited hopefully for him to make some kind of comment but Martay was completely baffled. Why would Amy be having weird dreams about a tree? More than that, a tree which didn’t even exist so far as he could remember, and he knew their meeting spot in the park really well since he had painted it so many times. It seemed totally random but he didn’t want Amy to feel bad.

  “It has to be something you’ve seen somewhere before.” Martay suggested. “You know, something that you’ve seen in a book or on TV. Whatever it was, it is something which has stuck in your head.”

  Amy wasn’t so sure about this. She couldn’t remember ever having seen a tree like this before and she said so to Martay who then took more time to think about it all. After a little while he came up with an idea and asked Amy to describe the tree to him again. She did so and he tried to hold all of the details in his mind. He thought if he could draw a rough image of the tree, maybe it would be easier to work out where they had seen it before. He always found it easier to remember things with some kind of visual stimulus.

  The bus arrived at Moscwa tér and the two of them disembarked and made their way across to the tram lines. They kept chatting but mostly Martay sought to reassure Amy that these things were normal and that nothing was wrong with her. She seemed strangely worried over such a simple thing. The streets of Budapest rolled by and within minutes they had reached the island along the Margaret Bridge. Richard and Michelle had been waiting for them at the tram stop and Martay and Amy agreed to talk more later on. The friends greeted each other jovially and having at least gotten her fears off her chest, Amy was more relaxed.

  Since she had missed breakfast Martay suggested they find somewhere to get a coffee, then they could decide what to do with the rest of the day. What he didn’t say was that stopping at a café for a while would give him a chance to try and sketch Amy’s tree before he forgot the details she had given him. As soon as they sat down he whipped out his drawing pad and started scribbling away.

  Richard and Michelle took no practically notice. Martay was always drawing and painting whenever they stopped somewhere to wait, eat or even just relax. Given he wasn’t altogether talkative while he did
this, the two friends focused their energy on Amy and they chatted away happily while they sipped their coffees and Amy demolished a few pastries as breakfast. Martay did occasionally pitch in but he still wouldn’t look up from his drawing. Amy tried to remain casual and not overly interested in the drawing. She didn’t want to be rude to her friends by not paying them any attention and she didn’t really want to explain to them what had been going on.

  Their coffee mugs had been empty for nearly ten minutes before Martay finally finished. While the others got up to pay he carefully put his sketch book into Amy’s bag instead of his own. They bought some snacks and water bottles since they planned to walk around quite a lot and then got underway.

  In truth, both Martay and Amy were waiting as patiently as they could for the end of the day so they could continue discussing Amy’s dreams. This happened sooner than they expected because Richard and Michelle declared that their families were having dinner together for the first time that night and they needed to head home quite early to get ready. Amy and Martay made for the nearest station which happened to be the underground. As soon as they were out of sight of the others, Amy took out the sketch book and opened it to where Martay had drawn the tree.

  Conceptually, it was very similar to her dream, except that in many ways it was too detailed. Martay had made the branches twist at odd angles here and there and the whole tree was marked and creased like real trees were. Nevertheless, it still had the shape and strange characteristics that had made it seem so unique to Amy.

  The moment they got back to Amy’s house, they began pouring through biology books, old national geographic magazines and trawling through the internet trying to find some kind of clue as to where Amy could have seen the tree. Wherever she had seen it had left some kind of impression but none of these mediums seemed to ring a bell for Amy. They searched endlessly, excusing themselves from sitting down to dinner with Amy’s parents on the basis that they were working hard on an assessment piece together. Yet for all their efforts, they couldn’t find anything that matched Martay's drawing at all. Nothing even came close.