She Is His

Her Sanctuary

"You have return home." Dream's statement repeated in Jessie's mind as her annoying alarm clock pulled her out of the world of the dreaming. Tempted to throw the clock out the window and recover her head with a blanket, she knew that she could not spare the day. Tossing her nightgown at the end of the bed, she went into her closet to grab clean coverall and under garments. Now dressed for work, she whipped her hair from the loose braid to a low bun to keep it out of her way.

The little farmhouse was quiet for it was only her who lived there. Her parents had long since passed away; a drunk driver took them away from her when she was nineteen. She was the only child. Jessie never found a suitor who could keep up with her fast-paced life. No children to call her own for the relationships never got anywhere close to that point. People just wanted to keep her on the ground and Jessie knew she was meant for the sky.

With her thermos full of coffee and her bag strapped to her back. She started up her motorcycle and headed out into the sunrise. Matthew stood on her chimney, watching her ride away. Dream watched too, from his seat on her roof. He was there at the moment she awoke, listening to her curse the start of the day. He listened as she ready herself, trying to make sense of her time in the dreaming.

"Hey, boss. Do you want me to watch over her?" Matthew asked, looking at the worry lines on Dream's face.

"Yes, Matthew. Thank you." Dream answered as he still faced the direction of her departing. Taking flight, Matthew followed the road.

Dream entered into her home. He knew that he was trespassing, but he wanted to learn more about the mortal Jessamy. The kitchen was styled with a large farm sink under a window and a functioning woodstove in the corner. Modern appliances were to the other side along with antique touches. A stone wall accented the dark wood and white interior. Drying herbs hung over a kitchen island made from butcher's block. A handed down, gray stone mortar and pestle sat with a handwriting journal of herbs and uses. The scent of fresh brew coffee still lingered in the air. A little wooden table sat near the wood burning stove with three wooden chairs. On the back of one of the chairs was an old Carhart work jacket with the name 'Thomas' embordered on the left side. A flowery apron rested on the back of the chair, next to the jacket. They looked like that had not been moved in years.

There were two doors leading from the kitchen. One leaded to a mud room with a stalkable washer and dryer and washout sink. Old work boots lined the wall with varies jackets hung above. Like the kitchen, it was white with dark wood trim. There was a door that open to the backyard.

The other door lead into the living area. To one side sat a large dining table in the same shade of light wood as the one in the kitchen with the same style chairs pushed under. Family photos dotted the white walls. Pictures of Jessie at all stages of life until she was nineteen, her parents' wedding photo, and posed family holiday pictures told a happy life together.

On the side of the room where the dark wood trimmed front door stood in the middle of the wall was a bare space. Marks on the floor shown there was once furniture that sat there, but no more. A large flatscreen was mounted about the stone fireplace. The remote was on the wooden mantle along with several large crystals of varies colors. The morning light started to spill through the windows. The white lace curtains were pulled back, allowing the dozen or so hanging suncatchers to paint the walls and floors. Dream stood in the middle of the room, moving his hands to play with the colored light.

Down the small hallway, he found a bathroom that looked to be recently remodeled. The black and white color scheme complete with checkered tile in the shower and on the vanity. The sink, cabinetry and toilet were black with silver fixtures. Instead of one large mirror, Jessie had hung several mirrors of varies sizes and shapes. Each of the frames of the mirrors had been painted black as well.

The first room was small and was converted into an office/craft room. Several more suncatchers were in different stages of completion lined a folding table. Little crystals and silver bobbles filled containers sat on old built-in shelves. An antique foot treadle Singer sewing machine sat with a stack of cut out fabric nearly by. Nestled in a back corner was a more modern computer desk with a laptop and printer set up.

The second bedroom was at the end of the hall and was the last place to explore. This is Jessie's bedroom. Dream was hesitated. He was already invading her privacy, but this is too much.

"No." Dream told himself, lowering his fingers from the doorknob. He would not go inside there. Not without her permission.

He let himself out through the front door. Giving the handle a jingle to ensure he locked it properly; he surveyed the large porch that wrapped around most of the house. The white paint was fresh, maybe just a few weeks old. A porch swing was set up at the dead-end side. This is where all the color lived. Swirling patterns matched with floral prints covered the seat. There was a thick foam padding to protect derrieres from the hard wood. Dream sat down on the swing, reclining his head back. He could only hear the birds and the insects flying about. The main road was too far off to take notice of the traffic. He closed his eyes. This was her sanctuary.