Circles

"But trepidation of the spheres," - John Donne

But trepidation of the spheres,

Though greater far, is innocent.

I was under a tree, it’s twisted, bare branches looked wrong, they looked poisoned, the sky was darkened by purple-grey clouds and all around me were the howls and growls of ferocious animals echoing through the vast landscape.  I saw a figure approaching, blurred around the edges.

I stood up, leaning against the tree. I was solid again. Somehow that place didn’t feel real, the colours all blended a little bit too well and the sounds too beast-like to fit in the natural world. I thought maybe that letter was from a while ago; maybe they’d cut the life support already.

I looked back to the figure; its long, blonde hair billowed wildly in the wind, it wore all black. Evil… or mourning. It got closer. Ree. She screamed when she saw me, “YOU CAN’T BE HERE!!” She was shaking, terrified and turning to run.  

“Ree!”  I yelled to her, “Why are you running?” My voice echoed through the vast emptiness and everything fell into a complete silence, she didn’t stop though; took off, running like hell was on her heels. I had no choice; I sprinted to catch up with her. Footsteps thudding on the ground as I got closer and closer. I caught up, grabbing her arm and held on tight. She collapsed to the ground and began sobbing. “I don’t want you here!” she cried.

“Fine.” I said. I was hurt; I never thought she would say that to me and I had no idea where “here” was.  As I turned, the landscape changed; the hills melded together, colour paling and reaching up to connect to the sky and suddenly I was in a stark white room. All white. I looked around me and saw only a door, no windows or inherent objects. I tried to open the door but there was no handle and pushing didn’t work, struggling against it was futile.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Ree’s voice echoed in the empty space, sounding calm, commanding, ready to challenge fear.

“What do you mean? You know. You know who I am!” I yelled back, “I’m your sister!”

“No, you aren’t. Stop trying to get into my head! My sister is... is...” her voice started to break. “You aren’t her.” She finished with the same calm as before.

“Ree! It’s me, Em.” I said simply.

“Prove it” her voice reverberated around the room, challenging..

I searched the space surrounding me, thinking of ways to prove it was me. Then I saw the speakers – not white, but close, like someone had spilt something corrupt into the paint they used – they definitely weren’t there originally. They’d just appeared, like the room.

“Remember Ree, when we used to go down to the creek for picnics, and how we would always carry enough for a whole army because you thought if we got lost we would need it.” I said. “And remember your 10th birthday when dad tried to do a fancy pancake flip, but instead managed to get the pancake stuck to the roof and lit the curtains on fire.”  

“That doesn’t prove anything! You could be a bad dream. A bad, bad dream.” She almost screamed.

“NO! Stop it, just listen to me!” Frustrated, tears were welling in my eyes and everything was getting blurry. “Where am I Ree? Why did you put me here? Why won’t you believe me?” I collapsed onto the ground, wrapping my arms around my legs and hugging them tightly to stop the shaking.

“Em?” she said back and the landscape changed again. I was sitting by the old creek; the shimmery blue-green water trickling over the rocks, trees obscuring the view of the sky and the soft green blades of grass tickling my hands which I hadn’t noticed fall to my sides.

“Em?” I heard again, this time though the voice was soft, not erupting from speakers, not used a tool to frighten. It was coming from behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw her.  “It’s really you?”  

“Well of course it’s me.” I smiled, happiness is rushed over me, filling me up. That was the first recognition I’d had.

“Ree, honey? Dylan is here. Wake up Sweetie.” Mum’s voice seemed to come from the sky like a god.

“Oh no!” Ree’s eyes widened in panic and we were back in my room.

Mum was leaning over the sleeping figure of Ree.

“Come on honey” she urged “Time to get up.”

Ree’s eyes fluttered open, she wiped the sleep out of them and looked up at mum. Her features lit up, remembering the previous minutes. “Mum! I saw Em!”

At the mention of my name, mum flinched. Hurt cast itself over her features contorting the smile onto her face into a grimace. It only stayed for a minute. “Dylan’s waiting for you downstairs.” Mum changed the subject, forcing a smile.

“What is he doing here?” Ree said.

“He said something about the movies, but I don’t want you watching any of those scary ones, you’ll be awake for weeks.”

“Mum I’m not 12! I will watch what I want to watch!” retorted Ree, then she crawled off the bed and ran out the door.

I followed. Who was this Dylan person?

 Standing at the bottom of the stairs; with the dyed black hair, lip-piercing, a black t-shirt with a logo for some kind of heavy metal band, chains hanging from his jeans and black boots was a perfect stereotype of an “emo” teenage poster child.

All I could think was ‘What on earth is she doing with someone like that?’. Ree’s face lit up as she saw him and she bounced down the stairs to meet him. Before either of them got any words out, Mum trudged down with something like a look of determination.  “You look after her.” She warned “If anything happens to her I’ll – I’ll.....” her face crumpled in defeat and she trailed off.

Mum turned away from them, and I could see the tears beginning to fall as she gathered some composure and walked into the kitchen.  I stared after her for a few seconds; I noticed a change in her. Her long, colourful, flowing clothing swapped for a drab grey skirt and blouse; her once smiling features lined with grief and the grace with which she would float into a room had vanished, leaving her with clumsy, heavy footsteps.

It was strange seeing the effect my “accident” was having on them. My mind and my body no longer connected. “My body”, I bet very few people get the opportunity to feel so utterly separate from themselves – literally physically and mentally.  

*******************************************************************

lines from poem at the top from "A Valedictation of Mourning" by John Donne