Ocean Kisses

Dreams

Tango Pov

I always had these dreams, dreams where I floated weightlessly in the vast, endless ocean. The water embraced me, cool and soothing, and something coiled around me—soft, yet powerful. My eyes were always closed, surrendering to the rhythm of the deep, but every time I opened them, there they were: eyes. Not just any eyes, but the most enchanting shade of purple, so rich and full of secrets that I could never look away. They beckoned, like stars pulling me closer, like I was meant to drown in them, and for some reason, I was okay with it.

Even though I could breathe, the sensation of sinking deeper didn't frighten me. It felt right. I let myself drift, as if the water and the eyes were one, wrapping me in their pull. I remember the feeling of their presence, the lightness in my chest as I stared up. The water was dim, but there, floating just beyond the surface, I saw them. Dirty blonde hair, floating gently around a face I couldn’t fully grasp. Webbed hands, delicate yet strong, gliding through the water with ease. And ears—finned and crimson red—so striking they almost glowed in the dim, oceanic depths.

I was okay with it. I was okay with being taken deeper into the unknown, wrapped in the peace they offered. I don’t know why, but each time, the calmness of the ocean, of them, washed over me like a lullaby. The haunting purple eyes, always pulling me, always bringing me back to that place of surrender and quiet. When I woke, I wasn’t scared or anxious. No, instead, there was a profound peace within me, a sense of calm I couldn't place but knew unmistakably.

Every time I dreamt of them, I woke up whole, content, as if I had touched something beyond the waking world—something serene, something eternal.

Normally, these dreams would only visit me after a period of great stress—like the kind of pressure that comes from school, or the weight of traveling overseas. And right now, as I prepared for a flight to a place far away, that familiar tension clawed at me. The thought of stepping onto a plane, being trapped in a metal tube high above the earth, sent waves of anxiety crashing over me. I couldn't help but wonder if I should’ve taken a ship instead—something to be closer to the ocean, to the water that seemed to calm my soul when I sank into those dreams.

But that thought, as comforting as it was, didn’t stop me. I packed my things, not exactly with the peace I wished for, but with a steady sense of determination. The car was loaded up with bags, and as I pulled out of the driveway, I felt the familiar pull of travel—the anticipation, the nerves, all woven together like threads in a tapestry.

The airport was a blur of motion, faces rushing by, each one with their own story. But for me, everything seemed to slow down. I was already in my head, preparing for the turbulence I’d feel inside, long before the plane took off. Flying was never easy. It always seemed to bring out a storm in my chest, a knot in my stomach that wouldn’t loosen, no matter how many times I told myself it was just another part of the journey.

I tried to focus on other things, but my mind kept drifting back to the water, to the ocean where I would float freely, where I could close my eyes and feel safe. The purple eyes from my dreams seemed to linger in the back of my mind, offering a quiet reassurance. Maybe it was just a dream, but in that moment, it felt more like a reminder—a promise that even in the most stressful of times, there was a place of calm waiting for me, just beneath the surface.

I boarded the plane without any problems, the usual mix of anxiety and excitement swirling inside me. Everything seemed normal, routine—until it wasn’t. Eight hours into the flight, the calm hum of the engines suddenly shifted, an ominous vibration creeping through the cabin. The air around me grew dense, and the slightest tilt of the plane sent my stomach into a freefall.

My mind raced. I could hear the faint murmurs of other passengers, but they didn’t seem real, like echoes from another world. The plane shuddered, then buckled in a way that sent terror shooting through my veins. A sickening lurch. The lights flickered. The loud hiss of the oxygen masks descending only added to the panic, a stark reminder that something had gone terribly wrong. We were heading straight into the ocean, and I knew it in the pit of my stomach.