Short Story: Dreams

These short stories are written as practices in writing and all are unedited and are not proofread

There was nothing in the air that day, it was like the entire world decided to have a relaxing time of nothing. 

 For him it was different, there were several things that were weighing heavy on his mind. He had seen her again in his dreams, she was wearing the same clothes as always. The familiarity of who she was and how he knew her had lulled him into an even deeper sleep. 

 Yet, as he awoke the dream flitted away and he was left staring at the roof. He knew it would be years until the next time he'd see that dream again. So, in the silence of the morning he arose, stretching his arms in every way and hearing the click cracking of his spine echoing through the empty house. 

 The shower was quick and the coffee bitter. With a sigh he went up to his desk and opened his laptop. Knowing he would have to greet the artists. Finding joy in their midnight talks, their early morning squabbles, the laughs, the tricks, and the jokes. 

It was one of the consistent things he had in life, keeping him coming back for more, wanting to hear their idle talks each day. He was reading through their arguments when the first pang of longing hit him, it was another thing that he knew would happen. 

Whenever the dream took him, he knew it would be another week of loneliness. He knew why he felt the pains and pangs, it was because his heart now knew what he was missing. Living alone was something he had grown accustomed to. But when you find your soulmate in a dream, the empty house feels a lot colder. 

Taking off his headphones he looked at his screens, there were words scrolling by, videos playing on the other. He sighed, and allowed the pang to take over his every thought. What he couldn’t remember of the dream his heart certainly still felt. 

 Closing his eyes, he allowed the magic to flood his memories, at the very edges of consciousness he imagined he could remember her smell, the taste of her lips, the warmth of her body. In a moment it passed and he opened his eyes. 

 The rest of the day would be the same, bursts of normalcy, mixed in with moments of deep longing and pain. Taking a deep breath, he started working before the next pang would hit, as time passed, he would be able to lose himself in more work. It was after the seventh pang, well after sunset, he decided to sift through his memories, thinking back on the first time he had the dream. 

It had been a long time; he was still in high school when she had invaded his mind. The only details he could remember were from then. His mind was much more capable of remembering his nightly journeys than he was now. 

 He knew she had long, black hair, her hands were warm in his, and the first kiss she had given him was ice cold. He had been shocked awake by that kiss, his mind unable to accept the reality of a cold kiss. Yet, a year later, when he had all but forgotten the strange dream, it happened again. 

 This time she shouted and raved at him, about what, he could never remember, but he would never forget her again. She still kissed him at the end of the dream, her cold lips shacking him awake with such ferocity that he fell out of bed. He had spent the rest of those early morning hours just looking at the roof. 

Unwilling to turn for fear a ghost may be waiting somewhere in his room. He forgets everything about the dream, but he never forgets her. Like all young men that had watched too many romantic movies he assumed that this was a woman he had to meet, someone that would appear to him. 

That caused the longest lull, he would not have another dream with the dark-haired woman for four years. He was out of school and in college when she appeared again, this time there were no shouts, instead they did nothing. He was able to remember more of this dream, the TV flashing images, the feel of the couch, and the smell of her hair. Yet whenever his mind’s eye tried to focus on any small detail the memory would fray further. 

It would take three more dreams for him to realize what he should not do. Every attempt at trying to remember what was happened would cause the memory to fade. His soul and his heart would not allow this to fade further. Those were the worst times, he ranted and raved against his own mind. 

Trying to remember things that refused to be remembered, you see he needed to know who she was. People told him that he would not be able to dream of someone he did not already know. This drove him to focus on those in his life, yet no one fit. His heart rejected all them. 

 Now, eight years out of college and living on his own, the dream girl only haunted him once a year. It hurt now more than ever when he awoke, but like a toothache he had become used to it. The cures for it weren’t easy coming and he found that he could not approach any other woman in his life. 

As the last pangs of pain faded a memory returned to him, like his mind rewarding him for holding out. They had been in bed together in the latest dream. Not doing anything, just holding each other, her heat against him, her slow breathes calming him into a deeper sleep even as he dreamt of her. 

 Thinking of the memory helped him relax and he knew if he tried to gather more detail, he would lose the entire memory. Instead, he looked out the window and breathed a heavy sigh. 

 “I really hope they’re just dreams” he said. Getting up to take a shower, he decided he would file it away and get lost in a book. His mind had taken control of his soul and heart. 

No more pain would come until the next year. 

 Unbeknownst to the man, on the other side of the world, in another apartment with only one occupant, a woman was waking up. A haunting dream caused a familiar pain in her heart. She had already called her boss; she’d not go into work today. 

The dreams had haunted her for over a decade. Each one clear as life when she dreamt them, yet like water when she tried to grab them. With a single tear rolling down her cheek she closed her eyes and hoped she’d dream of him again.