It Takes Two to Tango

Chapter 6: Unscripted

Ace 🖤

Tonight I slept restlessly, my dream was filled with echoes from my past that haunted me every so often. I found myself reliving a moment from my childhood – one that I'm sure shaped the person I had become, one of the many memories I kept buried deep.

The dream was a vivid flashback to a stark, chilly dilapidated apartment where my younger self lived. It was a cramped, neglected space, the walls echoing with the sound of my tired mother's sobs. She worked multiple jobs, leaving me alone most of the time, her absence a constant reminder of our harsh reality.

In the dream, I found myself huddled in a dim corner of our cramped apartment, my small hands tightly gripping a battered old guitar. To me, it was more than an instrument; it was a gift from a kind-hearted neighbor, my only solace in a cruel world. In that haunting dreamscape, I watched myself - a scrawny, malnourished eight-year-old - cradling the only real gift I'd ever received.

On that particular day, tears streamed silently down my young cheeks, as I quietly attempted to shield my already burdened mother from my trivial problems. My heart ached with a sense of loss as I stared at the broken strings of the guitar. I'd brought it to school for show and tell, only for someone to destroy it despite how hard I fought to get it back. That overwhelming sense of helplessness constricted around me, a tangible, suffocating force.

The starkness of that memory in the dream, so vivid and raw, laid bare the roots of the man I'd become. It was a huge reminder of why I'd closed off my emotions and display so much indifference to what's happening around me. It's also why my rockstar persona was more than just an image – it was a survival mechanism, shielding the vulnerable child inside me from a world that had once seemed so unforgiving and cold.

The dream shifted, and I was at school, a place where I should have felt safe but didn't. I was the odd one out – the kid with worn-out clothes and unkempt hair, the target of relentless teasing and bullying. I remember trying to blend into the background, to become invisible, but the taunting found me anyway.

The dream was all too much!

Waking in a cold sweat, my heart racing, I lay there in the dimly lit room, struggling to calm my tumultuous breaths that mirrored the chaotic memory of my dream. The glowing orange numbers of my alarm clock cutting through the darkness – 3:34 am. As my eyes gradually adjusted, they drifted towards Aria's bed. There she was, in a world of peaceful slumber, her breathing soft and even, a stark contrast to my own restless state.

I shook my head, as if the motion could physically shake the lingering dread bubbling in my stomach. Those haunting scenes from my past, so vividly replayed in my dream, were the very reasons I'd constructed the facade I wore daily – the easygoing, carefree rockstar persona that didn't give a shit about anyone. It was a mask, a carefully crafted shield against the raw emotions that nights like these brought to the surface.

In the stillness of the room, with Aria's quiet presence unknowingly grounding me, I couldn't help but reflect. It had always been simpler, more straightforward, to lose myself in the company of women – transient, emotionless encounters where I didn't have to confront the deeper, more genuine parts of myself. But lying there, in the aftermath of my dream and with the reality of Aria so close, I began to think about our last conversation in the bathroom. Aria thought she had me all figured out but she didn't. And for some reason, her opinion of me was beginning to bother me. I began to question whether the facade I clung to was as impenetrable as I had once believed.

Efforts to find sleep again proved futile, as I tossed and turned, slipping into nothing more than a fitful, restless slumber. Each time I closed my eyes, fragments of the dream replayed, leaving me more drained than rested. By the time the alarm blared at 7:00 am, signaling the start of a crucial day, I was already feeling worn out and on edge.