reverie / hs

12

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across my room. . I stirred from my sleep, reaching instinctively for my phone on the bedside table as it buzzed with an incoming call. Disoriented from the lingering traces of my dream, I answered groggily.

"Hello?" I murmured, my voice thick with sleep. The dream of the blue-toned world, of Harry, was still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.

"Morning, sweetheart," Dad's familiar voice greeted me warmly through the phone. His voice was a stark contrast to the warmth of Harry's, but it brought with it a sense of comfort.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'll be heading out on a work trip for a few days." My heart sank slightly at the news. It was as if the warmth of the dream world had drained out of me, leaving me feeling empty and cold.

"Oh, okay," I replied, trying to shake off the disappointment. "When are you leaving?"

"In an hour," Dad replied. "It's a last-minute thing, but I'll be back before you know it." He sounded cheerful, as if it was a completely normal, even enjoyable thing to do.

"Alright, Dad," I said, trying to sound more awake than I felt. "Take care of yourself."

"I will, sweetheart," he assured me. "I'll call you when I can. Love you." It was a quick, casual exchange, as if it were no big deal, a normal routine. But it was a stark reminder that my real life was far from the idyllic world I had just experienced. I wished I could just close my eyes and go back to that world. To Harry's warmth, to the feeling of belonging.

"Love you too, Dad," I replied softly, before ending the call.

Lying back against the pillows, I stared up at the ceiling, thoughts drifting between the fleeting beauty of dreams and the reality of everyday life. The dream of Harry and our evening together lingered in my mind like a wistful melody, a reminder of a love that felt achingly real yet existed only in the realm of sleep.

With a sigh, I pushed myself out of bed, resolving to face the day ahead with a renewed sense of purpose. As I went about my morning routine, the echo of Dad's voice and the impending absence weighed on me, overshadowing the remnants of the dream that had brought such unexpected joy.

Downstairs, the familiar sounds of breakfast and Mom's cheerful chatter filled the air, grounding me in the routine of daily life. I joined her at the table, pushing aside lingering thoughts of dreams and fleeting moments.

"Morning, Elena," Mom greeted me with a smile, setting a plate of pancakes in front of me. She looked tired, her face etched with lines of worry, but she was trying to put on a brave face.

"Morning, Mom," I replied, forcing a smile as I picked up my fork. I wish I could tell her about Harry. I wish I could tell her about the beautiful world we shared.

Conversation flowed easily between us, the mundane details of everyday life weaving a comforting tapestry around me. Yet, beneath the surface, I sensed a hint of sadness in Mom's eyes, a reflection of my own melancholy.

"Dad's going on a work trip," I mentioned quietly, unable to shake off the heaviness in my heart.

Mom's smile faltered slightly, her gaze distant for a moment. "I know, sweetheart," she replied softly. "It's just for a few days."

I nodded, understanding the necessity of Dad's job yet wishing for more time together as a family.

Mom glanced out the window, her thoughts momentarily elsewhere. "I'm going to visit the art gallery downtown later today," she said, changing the subject gently. "Would you like to come with me?"

The invitation was offered with a touch of hopefulness, a silent plea for a distraction from the impending absence. I hesitated for a moment, torn between the comfort of home and the need to escape into the bustling world outside.

"I think I'll stay home today, Mom," I replied finally, meeting her gaze with a small smile. "But thank you for the invitation."

Mom nodded understandingly, masking her disappointment with a reassuring smile. "Of course, sweetheart. Maybe another time."

We finished breakfast in comfortable silence, the air tinged with a mix of anticipation and subdued emotions. As Mom cleared the table, the house seemed quieter than usual, the absence of Dad's presence already palpable. He was always such a presence, even when he wasn't here. I missed his laughter, his stories, his teasing.

Just as we were clearing away the dishes, a familiar knock on the door interrupted the stillness. Mom glanced at me questioningly as I rose to answer it, surprised to find Kelsey standing on the doorstep, her face bright with enthusiasm.

"Hey, Elena!" Kelsey greeted me warmly, stepping inside with a breezy familiarity. "Hope I'm not interrupting."

I shook my head, grateful for the distraction. "No, not at all. Come in," I invited her, gesturing towards the living room where Mom was now seated with a cup of tea.

"Morning, Mrs. Linden," Kelsey greeted my mom cheerfully, settling onto the couch beside her.

"Morning, Kelsey," Mom replied with a smile, clearly pleased by the company. "What brings you here today?"

Kelsey glanced at me briefly before answering, her expression turning thoughtful. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. Plus, I wanted to see if Elena wanted to catch up. It's been a while."

I nodded gratefully, taking a seat opposite them. Kelsey and I fell into easy conversation, reminiscing about our college days and sharing anecdotes that drew laughter from Mom. The morning passed in a blur of shared memories and lighthearted banter, momentarily easing the weight of Dad's impending absence.

As noon approached, Kelsey glanced at her watch apologetically. "I should probably head out soon," she said regretfully, rising from the couch. "But thanks for having me over, Elena. And Mrs. Linden, it was lovely seeing you again."

Mom smiled warmly. "Anytime, Kelsey. You're always welcome here."

After Kelsey left, the house settled into a quiet calm once more. Mom busied herself with preparations for her outing to the art gallery, while I retreated to my room, grateful for the brief respite from reality that Kelsey's visit had provided.

As I sat at my desk, thoughts of the dream and Harry lingered in the corners of my mind. I couldn't shake the feeling of longing that had accompanied the dream's end, the bittersweet reminder of a love that felt so real yet remained elusive in waking life. I wished I could just close my eyes and go back to that world. To Harry's warmth, to the blue walls, to the feeling of belonging.

With a sigh, I opened my laptop, intending to distract myself with work or maybe even dive into a book. But as I stared at the blank screen, the memory of Harry's voice and the warmth of his embrace flooded back, pulling me back to the dream world I had reluctantly left behind.

The afternoon stretched ahead, filled with the quiet anticipation of Mom's return and the gentle rhythm of everyday life. Yet, somewhere within me, a part of my heart remained tethered to the fleeting moments of happiness found only in dreams.