Highway Part 19

Highway Chapter 13(continued)

“Matt?” she called, soft and uncertain.

“Yeah?” I replied, keeping my voice calm and peaceful, hoping to transfer my energy.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She seemed unsure what to tell me, and so I started the conversation.

“What’s up? I see that you couldn’t sleep. Got something on your mind?”

She nodded, and then lay silent, refraining from telling me. Just as I was about to engage a conversation gently, she spoke.

“Just a bad dream,” she said, “It’s no big deal.”

I nodded, knowing it wasn’t true but keeping the dialogue light.

“Well,” I said gently, “that’s too bad. But we all have them.”

She agreed. We lay quiet again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked tentatively, walking on eggshells, “I often find that talking about dreams helps me understand them. You don’t have to, it’s just an idea.”

She bit her lip in a sign of indecisiveness, and thought about it.

“Well,” she began, surprising me with her sudden speech, “I am always running. I don’t know from what, but I am. And I fall.”

She paused, before continuing on.

“It’s just me, and I can’t see what I’m running from. It’s too dark to see anything.”

Her voice betrayed her, for I could tell this was not a true statement. She knew what she was running from, and didn’t want to tell me.  I wouldn’t have been able to tell if I hadn’t been dealing with people up close for years, before I had even been awakened.

Still, it was something, and that was definitely more than I thought I would get. Planning my next words carefully, I turned to her.

“Interesting. It’s too dark to see what’s chasing you?” I asked, and she averted her eyes, another sign of her lie.

“Well I can’t help you there,” I said, “but generally when people have dreams of running and falling, it’s that they feel there is something they can’t win against, but trip because they feel hopeless about that something.”

She made a small noise, and then became silent again. I sighed inwardly, wishing she would tell me what was really bothering her. The silence was thick and heavy now, almost palpable.

Deciding to break the quiet, I said, “If I were you, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Sometimes we have dreams we just don’t understand, and we never will. Dreams are very odd things most of the time, and they seem to have a mind of their own.”

She looked at me for the first time, and I saw a flicker there. One so small it was barely noticeable, but one that spoke of relief in my words.

“You’re right,” she said, forcing a laugh out of her mouth, “It’s all just a dream. There isn’t much use worrying about It.”

Her tone of voice wasn’t certain at all, but I let it drop. Being around this girl was excruciating, having to be careful of everything. She had just started opening up to me, and I couldn’t afford to have her shut me out now. I was trying everything I could to help her through, but it was like walking on thin ice.

She was staring at the stars now, lost in her thoughts and the infinite number of specks in the sky.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” I questioned, returning my eyes to the ceiling of light.

“They’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” she replied, mesmerized by them.

They had a tendency to make you feel insignificant and small, but also part of a universe bigger than anyone knows. Feeling as if some stories would make her feel better, I asked her if she had heard the stories behind the stars. She shook her head.

We settled into the grassy earth, and I began to tell her the tales of the night sky.

“There is Aquarius, the water bearer,” I said, pointing out her location “and that’s Aquila, a mighty eagle who carried messages for the gods.”

I continued, story after story. I had studied the stars at great length, reading anything I could get my hands on. I knew every major myth that existed, and many of the minor ones. I told her of myths and gods, of heroes and villains.

She was sucked into the legends, adoring the fables. When I was done with a story, she would point to another group of stars, asking about those. There were more than enough stars in the sky to keep speaking of sagas, and Veronica took advantage of this.

We sat on that hill for hours, me reciting narratives, and her listening with intense focus. She had rolled over from her spot to see the stars more clearly when I pointed at them, and she was now shoulder to shoulder. She asked questions about the stories, laughed and felt sad, and protested when I spoke of the villainous scoundrels.

We were a part of the stars for nearly 3 hours, at which point Veronica began to fall asleep. I didn’t want to wake her by directing he back to her sleeping bag, and so I let her be. Looking at the sky, I thought I could squeeze in about an hour long nap. I didn’t know if Veronica would be startled if she woke up next to me, but I figured she would be even more confused if she woke up, alone and on a hill, and so I stayed where I was. I also didn’t want to cause a break in her slumber by accidently bumping her shoulder.

The grass was soft and springy, and the night breeze blew gently. It was soft like silk, caressing our faces, and running through our hair like a mother might do to a child’s messy hair. Veronica was still and peaceful now, only shifting to bury her face in the grass. I smiled at her appearance, childlike and soft now that she was asleep.

Her hair blew around playfully, wisping through the air. She was scrunched up, her legs touching each other, and she had one hand on the side of her face, the other at her side, the fingers half curled. She had arranged her arm in a way that it formed a circle, which I assumed was to keep certain stuffed octopus cuddled up against her. She was actually very sweet looking, her face alight in the pale glow of the moon. Her long eyelashes gleamed, and her eyelids softly flickered as she dreamed. I thought to myself that she felt better, hearing stories from me after a nightmare. I hadn’t solved the problem, but I had provided temporary relief.I only wished I could help her cure the nightmares, so they would leave her be.

But right now, she was lying beside me, breaths even and soft, and seemed content. I hoped she was dreaming of heroes and myths, where good always trumps evil.

Highway Chapter 14

 

            My legs ache and my lungs burn from drawing in the ragged breaths. He is behind me, only a step away, nipping at my heels like a dog. I am running, yet he is so close. His languid strides outpace mine, for his legs are significantly longer. I am small, my legs the length of a child’s. My mind is present day, but I am stuck in the past. My shoes are slick with her blood, the woman with the red hair. On his face is a maniacal grin, but as he said my name, his voice is deadly soft.

“Veronica,” he calls, sickeningly sweet, “Why are you running? Come play with me.”

I sense the madness underneath, the rage and lunacy seeping through. I slide across the floor as I turn a corner, smacking into the wall with excruciating force. Pain explodes across my shoulder, and I cry out in pain, dropping to the floor. “

It’s okay, darling” he said, sneering the endearment. “I only want to see you a little closer.”

I staggered up from the ground, wincing at my injured shoulder. I slip on the blood covering my shoes, merely a few feet away this time. I can feel the hot tears slide down my face, for I am so scared. I lay there trembling as he strolled up leisurely, taking his time. I am frozen, and the world seems to slow down.

“I told you to stop running!” he screams, finally reaching me.

He grabbed my hair, jerking me around. I cry out to make him stop, but he is furious now. I can smell the pungent alcohol on his breath, sharp and disgusting. I try to pull away, but his grip on my hair is impossibly strong. He pulls back like a violent animal, and I whimper in agony. He giggled like a raving madman. He raised the kitchen knife he was holding into the air, and it came arching down.

I woke up with a sudden start. Unable to stop myself, a whimper escaped my lips, quiet and pained. I could feel pain in my shoulder and head, as if the man had been causing me pain in real life. Slowly, it subsided. It took me a few minutes to relieve myself of the flashes of the dreams. The man’s smile. The sharp knife. The woman, lying on the floor, lifeless and cold. How come I couldn’t see her face? I could only see her stained dress, once such a beautiful white. And how did the man know my name? He felt somehow familiar, but I couldn’t remember who he was. It was like there was a wall there, one so impenetrable to my view, nothing could gain access.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. The dream were getting worse, and at a startling rate too. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe it was coincidence by now, and if I told myself that, I was a fool.

Looking over to where Matt’s sleeping bag was, I hoped I hadn’t woken him. To my surprise, I found him missing. Cold fear gripped my heart, and my stomach was in my throat. He’s just getting water, I told myself. Or he got up to get more firewood. Although the pile still looked quite full.

Suddenly uncertain, I called out, “Matt?”

He answered from above, and I let out a sigh of relief to see him on the top of the grassy hill, only a few feet away and very much present. He said he would be back to bed soon, that he had just had trouble sleeping.

I was still shaking, and my breathing was forced. I was on the verge of tears, and I couldn’t understand why. The dream affected me profoundly, and I suddenly found myself wanting nothing more than a bone crushing hug. What am I saying? I didn’t hug people. I hadn’t hugged anyone since the 3^rd grade. I don’t remember before that, but I’m not sure I want to.

But there was Matt, just sitting there, staring up at the stars, and he seemed so serene. Maybe I could tell him about the dream, and he would understand? He seemed to always know the answers, so maybe he knew about this? But I had only known him three days, an ephemeral friendship. I couldn’t tell him something like this. It was too personal, and I was tired of being hurt. It seemed doubtful he would cause me pain, but I had thought that of others before. No, I wouldn’t tell him about the dream. But still, would it be so bad if I went up there and sat next to him? I allowed myself this momentary weakness.

I worked my way out of my sleeping bag. Being grateful for the darkness, I hoped Matt wouldn’t see me trembling. I ascended the hill, coming to a stop and resting my Matt. The grass was soft and squishy, almost like a bed. He acknowledged my presence, but lay quiet on the hill. Was he thinking about something? Maybe he had a nightmare as well. The thought seemed laughable, but I supposed it happened to everyone.

The night breeze was cool, brushing against my damp and clammy skin. He still hadn’t spoken, and I found his absolute lack of reaction odd. He wasn’t very talkative, it’s true, but he still hadn’t said anything about my waking up.

“Matt?” I called softly, unsure of myself.

“Yeah?” he replied, calm and peaceful.

His tranquil demeanor was somehow comforting. I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it again, not sure what to say. If I wasn’t going to tell him about the dream, what was I going to talk about?

He suddenly turned to me, and asked me if I had something on my mind, wondering what was causing my insomnia. I hesitated, and then told him I had a bad dream, but it was no big deal. He asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I didn’t, and I prepared to tell him that it was nothing. But he just seemed so attentive, and I wondered if I told him about it he could help me. He hadn’t found a challenge he couldn’t overcome yet.

I told him about running and falling, but left the parts with the man and the woman out. I figured telling him something would help me, but I wasn’t sacrificing my boundaries. He talked with me for a while, and I began to calm down. He had a very soothing voice, and his entire presence was relaxed and calm. He told me not to worry about it too much, and I looked at him, trying to find some sort of insincerity. There was none.

It was a relief to talk to him, and I wondered if it showed. My breaths evened out, and I was steady once again. He was telling me that dream are weird sometimes. I nodded, and we fell back into silence. I thought myself to be good at concealing what I was thinking, but it seemed that he always knew when I wasn’t being entirely truthful. I had told him I never saw what was chasing me, and he accepted it, but I could tell he knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t press me for details, but it had become quiet now.

It was silent, and I could feel an awkward barrier forming between us. I couldn’t think of what to say, so I looked to the stars, brilliant and vast.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Matt suddenly asked from next to me.

I agreed softly. He asked me if I had ever heard the stories of the stars. I told him I hadn’t, and felt bubbly excitement rise inside my chest as he started to tell me about them. He always told the best stories. As he began to speak of gods and heroes, I smiled happily.

I studied him, seeing him through a new filter of moonlight. His hair was shining, the dirty blonde seeming pale and iridescent with the rays shining on it. His eyes were still that beautiful depthless blue, and I marveled at them even though he wasn’t even looking at me directly. They had been the first thing I had ever liked about him, and they still drew my attention. They seemed less sad this time though, as opposed to when I had first seen him. His voice was light and gentle, and when I would ask him if he would tell me another story, he complied. I rolled over, to see exactly where he was pointing.

We sat together for hours as he told me wondrous fables. Every time he would finish, I would point to another constellation, asking him what its story was. I didn’t want to keep him awake, but I didn’t want to go back to sleep. He didn’t seem to mind a single bit though, and so we kept going.

Shoulders brushing, the cool breeze blowing, and only the stars and each other to keep us company. I began to grow sleepy, and my eyes became heavy.

I was scared to sleep again, and I wanted to hear more stories. Still, I felt calmer and tranquil with Matt by my side, and it made me relaxed. I fought the yawns, but I couldn’t stay awake. Finally, I gave in to the impulses, and let sleep gently wash over me.