Wake The Dreamers

Chapter 1 - James Novel - The dream

The Dream. It was The Dream that started it all. James Novel drifted off and found himself stood on a long dirt pathway. Sheltered on each side by large, silver-barked trees, he walked. They had grown thick and close together creating an impenetrable barrier. He could see no more than a few metres into the dense forest on either side. Pleasantly warm air was carried through on a gentle draft that kissed his skin as it lowered the vibrant roseate blossoms of the trees, carefully, to the ground. They drifted down to the floor, like a tear rolling down a cheek and made a soft, coloured carpet on the dusty path. The air was lightly scented: delicately perfumed, with a variety of fresh aromas.

As James walked birds flitted overhead. Fleeting glimpses of parrots, hummingbirds and birds of paradise, filled the sky with dashes of colour and music. The cacophony of chirping notes blended and harmonised to create a chillingly beautiful song, soothing him as he strolled along the path. He didn't know how long he followed the trail for, or where it was leading him, but he followed it anyway, just kept strolling along. As he went the colour of blossoms changed. Fading from pink to purple to blue, then bright crimson red, the hues kept transitioning consistently bright and bold, and incredibly beautiful.

Eventually, the glaring sun began to set, and the azure sky transitioned into a soft amber glow. As it disappeared, below the tips of the trees, James arrived upon a large clearing. Perfectly circle, it pivoted around a large translucent lake that was so central it was like a divine creator designed it to be the focal point. Endless beauty surrounded the lake, but his eyes remained transfixed upon the water. It was deep, shimmering and green. Until he grew closer, at which point it was so still that it reflected the world around it, in photorealistic detail like a crystalline mirror. The lake was so clear that he felt as though he could put his hand through, reaching into his very own world, and somehow it would feel perfect.

He stepped into the water, expecting to fall, plummet, plunge into some serene reflection world. Instead, the lukewarm water swirled around his ankles. Momentarily, he paused. Peculiar. Here he was stood in the water, yet his feet were dry. He was confident he could feel the pleasant warmth of the liquid; but was convinced that if he were to raise out his foot, it would be crisp, dry. He went further in, kept wading into the 'dry' water until it was above his waist. The trees seeming so distinct in shape at the edge of the water, became blurred, to give the appearance of standing amidst a rainbow. It was enrapturing. Captivating. James felt trapped within an impressionist painting. caught by an artist. In a heavenly masterpiece.

Suddenly the water became disturbed. Bubbling and churning in the centre of the lake. Gradually out of the foam rose a tall column that languidly transformed into a tall, strong man. He seemed sculptured, covered in watery muscle. He radiated all the power contained within the water, the raw force that could shatter rocks, flood cities and bore through mountains.  Despite this, James felt comforted, relaxed if not at least in awe. He headed to meet the mysterious water dryad and was greeted as a friend with a hug that soaked him through. The giant seemed to laugh and kissed James on the forehead. Instantly he dried, everywhere except for where the dryad's lips had met his skin.

Abruptly, he toppled forward, plummeting, into the water. Expectations were shattered, as instead of hitting the bottom which, moments before had been right beneath his feet, he drifted slowly down through what felt like miles of water. Even though he didn't fight his descent, he had instinctively held his breath. After a while, his lungs burnt fiercely, and he couldn't help but gasp for air. It filled his lungs, provided his aching body parts with sweet, sweet oxygen, just as crisp and fragrant as it had been above the surface of the lake. Unusual.

When at last he arrived at the bottom of the lake the dryad was waiting for him, still laughing, a part of some enigmatic joke beyond James' comprehension. It occurred to James, this 'man' had granted him the ability to breathe underwater and when at last he was positive his lungs wouldn't flood with lake water, he took a moment to admire his surroundings.

Exotic fish swam by his head, shimmering silver and bronze, all different sizes, all different shapes, all different metallic hues, that shone like jewellery or treasure. The seaweed was silver. It looked like foil and caught the light then freeing it in a million different directions to glint off the massive copper-coloured sand dunes. Everything shone. Slowly he turned taking it all in, mesmerised. Finally, looking back to the dryad he noticed him pointing towards one of the larger dunes. This, it felt to James, was the reason for his journey here. So, apprehensively, he approached the dune as the dryad waved him off, still laughing, as cheerful as ever.

A young woman waited for him on the glittering hill. She was stunning. He knew her immediately. The most beautiful soul he had ever known. She was poised and graceful, only a little shorter than James himself with long, brunette hair that flowed down to her waist. Her expression was kind and her face, despite its sharp features, was soft and radiant. She wore a long, black dress, that flowed around her ankles, picked up by the currents of the water. Her eyes were emerald green. So deep he could get lost in them. The breath left his lungs as she touched his face, her fingers as soft as he recalled. Her gentle grace, her effortless elegance, all seemed so, so real, but it couldn't be. It wasn't. How was she here? What cruel trick of hell was this? She leant in slowly the moment lasting forever, but just at the climax right before their lips would have met, she whispered, softly.

"Not yet."

Not yet. Not yet. Not yet. It echoed through eternity, plunging an ice-cold dagger into his heart. He longed to kiss her but couldn't bear to defy her. He never could. She had been everything to him. The enduring memory on which his life had been built. Perfection contained in a woman. A woman that he had loved and, for some reason unknown to him, had chosen to love him back. He had to ask, he had to know.

"When?" He implored.

She laughed, turned and walked away. Just as she had that night. Once again repeating those words. Not yet. As she left, the back her dress revealed the wing tattoos, they spread across her shoulders and down her back. In this underwater world, they looked like obsidian. Solid and intricate, laced with slithers of silver and bronze. They seemed so real as if they could lend her the ability to fly. She seemed so angelic. His tears left his face and drifted away, turning golden as they flowed from the corner of his eye, diffusing into the lake. A luxurious elixir of sorrow. As soon as she was out of sight he woke up, still crying, last night's bottle still in his hand. She wasn't there. It had all seemed so very real. But it couldn't be. Could it? No. But then he slowly touched his forehead, there was a wet mark across his brow, right where the dryad had kissed him. He started to wonder, only to be snapped out of it when his dog, Ludo, licked his face. Dragging him out of the lake and back into reality. But still, the words echoed in his head. Not yet.