The night envelops me in its embrace, and I find myself slipping into the familiar realm of dreams once more. This time, however, there's a clarity that eluded me before—a lucidity that brings the scenes into sharp focus.
I stand before the imposing facade of the grand house, its ornate details illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. As I approach, the door swings open, revealing the radiant woman with her warm smile and twinkling eyes.
"Welcome back, Layla," she greets me, her voice tinged with a hint of knowing. But did I hear her correctly? Did she say my name? how does she know my name. yes I told them multiple times but they never called me that. Only miss...
I shake it off and nod in acknowledgment, my curiosity piqued by the anticipation of what's to come. With a gesture, she leads me inside, and I follow, my steps echoing in the cavernous foyer.
Moments later, he descends the staircase, his presence commanding attention as always. Like always his features are still obscured, his face shrouded in a veil of shadows.
As he approaches, a sense of anticipation grips me, a feeling of apprehension mingled with excitement. I watch as his figure draws nearer, the details of his face remaining elusive.
But then, unexpectedly, he extends his hand towards me, his touch gentle yet firm. "Come with me," he says softly, his voice carrying a note of urgency. What is happening? Why is everything changing. This has never happened before.
I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what awaits me outside the confines of the house. But something in his demeanor reassures me, a sense of trust that compels me to take his hand and follow him into the night.
Together, we step outside into the garden, the cool night air washing over us like a soothing balm. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting its silvery light upon the lush foliage that surrounds us.
And then, as though echoing the enchantment of the moment, his countenance began to sharpen, though not entirely – just his eyes. My gaze drifted downward to his lips, vividly discernible, but then his eyes blurred once more. I lifted my gaze to meet his, and in an instant, clarity returned to his eyes. Each aspect of his face became distinct, crystal clear, but only the one feature upon which my attention lingered.
"And your name?" I press, the urgency palpable in my tone. Hooping he would give me one now that I could see him just a little.
He chuckles softly, as if amused by my persistence. "My name is Gabriels," he replies, his gaze unwavering.
The weight of his words hangs in the air, and I struggle to comprehend the significance of this revelation. Alex—the name resonates within me, stirring a sense of familiarity that defies logic.
"Gabriels," I repeat, the syllables rolling off my tongue with a sense of recognition. "It's... it's nice to meet you."
He nods, a sense of understanding passing between us. "Likewise, Layla," he replies, his voice gentle and reassuring.
And in that moment, as we stand together in the heart of the dream, I feel a connection.
As the dream begins to fade, I cling to the memory of his eyes, the sound of his voice echoing in my mind.
YOU ARE READING
Mister Blurry Face
RomanceNight after night, Layla meets a mysterious stranger in her dreams, their bond growing deeper each time. But there is one thing: his face is always blurred, leaving her yearning for answers. As their connection strengthens and his features gradually...
