Dream of Me

November 16

I assumed that she was Korean and felt instantly at home as if I was with my own family. Later, I found out that she was half Japanese and half Korean.

"Is it too nosy if I ask how old you are?"

"No, I don't think so," she hummed, "I'm 23. You?"

"23 as well," I answered, "but it doesn't feel like it. I feel like my mind never accepted the fact that I got older than 18. I don't know. It's weird. I have to remind myself that I'm not in high school anymore. That I'm actually an adult. In theory, at least. I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time." This conversation was different from any other I'd ever had. We each spoke, but there was no need or desire to immediately respond. There was no pressure to show off or prove ourselves. We sat in honesty and sincerity, looking around, still in awe of the surroundings, and growing into a comfort and familiarity with each other. Even after only knowing her for a few hours, or however long it actually was, I felt a connection, like a deep friendship, something like the past relationship with Irene before it got tangled into a big mess. After minutes, comfortable minutes, she replied. Everything seemed so whimsical and peaceful that I almost forgot what I had said.

"I know what you mean. Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing either. The world gets more and more complicated as I get older. I don't know how to handle it anymore." She trailed off, and I understood what she was saying even before she said it. In an age where humanity was allegedly at the peak of knowledge and advancement, it felt that no one and no thing made sense. People were suffering all around the world and we felt helpless to stop it. Fear was growing, rumours were spreading, injustice was at an all time high despite so many warriors attempting to eradicate it. And here we were. Hiding from it, from our lives, from our responsibility and our own individual stresses. She banished the silence: "I read The Last Man a few weeks ago. Have you read it? It haunted me for days afterwards. I think because it seemed so entirely possible." I had not read it or even heard of it, but she explained it to me in detail and I immediately felt my heart drop. However, we continued.

"I don't really read that much. Well, besides my textbooks. I don't know, I'm not that invested in books. But maybe if you recommend one I'll read it. What do you suggest?"

"Hm," she sunk into deep thought at the request, immediately weighed down by the immense responsibility she had to convert me. "I really loved Life of Pi. My all time favourite growing up was The Chronicles of Narnia. Recently I started the A Song of Ice and Fire series. I guess it depends what you're interested in."

"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. But I'll try reading one of those at least. If I get a break from homework. I'm graduating this year and the workload is more than it's ever been. I can barely see the light at the end of the tunnel."

"That's okay," she smiled, "I use reading as an escape from all that. But you don't have to. Everyone deals with overwhelmpsion in different ways."

I laughed, "I don't think that's a word, but I know what you mean."

"It's a word now."

Chapter 11

That morning I woke up in a trance. I couldn't remember what had happened the night before. I opened my dream log, but nothing came to my mind. I simply wrote "Fuzzy. Pink. Soft and peace?" and closed it once again. I knew there was something important, though, and it drove me insane the entire day. Had I met someone? What world had I visited? I assumed it was a new one, and that didn't happen often. Ever, recently. I was very confused at my lack of recollection. I went to my classes, unable to devote all of my attention to the lecturer. There was something important... but what was it? I felt at peace with the chaotic world, a feeling that had been very foreign as of late. I knew something of great importance had happened that night. I felt myself going almost insane at my forgetfulness.

My usual after-class study session in the library offered relief. As I was making my way to the study desks near the back, my eye caught a display. Popular books that had been made into movies were resting on a turning shelf. I went over to it, strange, since I had never really given interest to books or movies, and turned it about. The Hunger Games, Divergent, The Fault in Our Stars, The Giver... then, at the very bottom of the display, I caught sight of a brightly illustrated book cover. The background was orange-red with water waving across the bottom. A roaring tiger head was in the middle, beneath "Yann Martel" and the title, Life of Pi. I thought nothing of it at the time, but decided to check it out. I brought it to the desk and, having to renew my membership, I took the book, still observing the bright cover. Then it hit me.

I rushed home, opened my dream log, and began to write in a flurry. "Pink, galaxy, live colour, swirling light, pool, dark ground, bright water, tall, thin trees... Ember." The conversations flooded back. I saw her face. I attempted to sketch it in my notes but did not succeed. I felt as if there was still something I was forgetting. But I remembered her face, and that was enough to sooth me, to some extent.