The Life of a Daydreamer

#3

I keep on walking. I fear that if I open my eyes I would go blind, that is how I fear the light. Even though it helps a lot in our modern life it also holds danger that of which we don't know.

After what feels like walking through nothing, my sense of touch awakens my brain. I feel thin strands of silk. But since my encounter this morning, I've learned that it's grass. I can tell that it's much taller than the ones before. It reaches up to my waist. I reach out my arms to feel the tingling sensation. I am in euphoria. The wind is stronger here. I must have gone out of the woods, but to where?

"Who are you?" says a voice

I immediately stop. Someone spoke to me.

"I asked you a question. Who are you?"

I can tell it's a male voice. His voice is like hot soothing cocoa for my ears. I have fallen in love with his voice, just his voice. "I mean you no harm, okay? I'm just lost. Could you help me find my way back to Port Lake High?"

"I don't know that place you speak of miss. And why are your eyes closed?"

With every word that escaped his mouth, I am more enchanted. "Oh sorry, my bad."

I slowly open my eyes and it was bright. All I see is pure white until it began to slowly fade away, revealing what looks like a round clearing. The grass is definitely up to my waist. In the middle of the clearing is a pile of giant rocks. On top of that pile stood a sillhouette of a male. I couldn't see him clearly because of the sun. He comes down and walks toward me. I too did the same.

As we near our approach towards each other, I notice on his shoulder the squirrel I came across earlier, must be his pet or something. I don’t know why this is happening, but my heart seems to go on a marry-go-round. Butterflies are invading my tummy. This is such an unnatural feeling. Maybe I’m just nervous because I am meeting a stranger.

We are now a few feet away from each other. Closely, he seems to be about my age but older. Since I'm sixteen, he must be about sixteen to eighteen years old. I find him beautiful not handsome.

His eyes are like the colors of the sunset, somehow merged together. I can feel them burning, i don't know if he can feel it too. His hair is a gorgeous shade of black coal. It gives him a serene and mysterious look. He reminds me of a Modern-day Leonardo DiCaprio. His face seems like it’s been taken out of a magazine. The projection of his body from the waist up is not too skinny and not too muscular. I notice he is wearing a maroon-colored sweater. Doesn’t he feel hot? The sun is out and it looks like it could burn us yet he does not sweat, so do I. He matches his sweater with a pair of dark jeans. I couldn’t tell what his shoes are because the tall grass is hiding it. I cannot say he is handsome because he is not handsome. For me he is beautiful, so beautiful.

We stand there in silence, letting the wind be our only noise at it blows unto the clearing. I wonder who will speak first; it’s either me or him. The situation is beginning to look awkward, so I made the first move.

“Hi?” I say to him, raising my arm half-way and swaying it from left to right. First an awkward situation where none of us is speaking a word, now, another awkward situation where instead of saying a normal hi, it came out as if I’m asking a question.

He slightly tilts his head and looks at me. I can see that  the color of his eyes are moving, as if he is not content with the color and is mixing them to pure perfection. I am being hypnotized into his realm.

“You didn’t answer my question. Who are you?” he says but something is odd. When he spoke, his lips didn’t move, not even an inch. It’s as if his mind is the one that is speaking and I can hear his thoughts.