Dreamscape

one

There is absolutely no reason to be happy today.

The day is so bland and monotonous. Same noises, same people, same colors. Most days are like this, though, so I can't say I'm surprised. Ten minutes before the time and I'm already headed to class. It's a rare occurrence. I expect I'll be the first one inside, being too early, but as soon as I open the heavy wooden door to the room, my eyes met another pair. I studied her face and knew instantly that this was that girl everyone loved to hate. I don't know her name, but god I do not want to be inside an empty classroom with her.

So I left. And in that moment, I decided I won't attend this class for today, since I've had enough anyway. I plugged in my earphones, and walked away from the entire building.

The music instantly made me feel better. Striding past the greenhouses, so familiar to me, something caught my eye.

Under all the ivy and the vegetation, there was something like wood, as thick as the wall it's attached on. With furrowed brows, I walked towards it, and pushed past it. It was a gate, I realized in delighted surprise. I kicked it close, and I found this garden. It seems like it used to be a greenhouse, but it was all ruined, though some of the plants remained.

I sat on a bench under this tall tree, with a thick, dark green canopy, and for the first time today, I felt alive. I found myself smiling, because the weather was so good, and there was a soft breeze touching my cheek. But the next minute, it wasn't the wind I was feeling in my cheek, but a quiet stream of hot tears, slowly cascading across my face.

It was only a matter of time before I started feeling stupid for crying. It was a beautiful day, so how on earth would I still resent it for being the same as it was yesterday? Or the day before that? Why am I so frustrated, and so deeply angry about this monotony? And while I was feeling sorry for myself, and thinking about how I've always dreamt the same thing, over and over, someone fills the seat next to me. I can feel their heavy weight dropping onto the bench, and I frown. I was crying about nothing in particular. I was crying about everything. I was crying, and I don't need anyone near me. I have never wanted to push someone, physically, away from me than at this moment.

My tears keep coming, and I can't stop them, nor do I want to. I turned to the other person, and with my tear-filled, bloodshot eyes, I said, "Please go away." Visibly confused, the person, who is a guy I have never seen before, told me, "no", and then turned away. I frowned, and started to wipe away the tears on my face. I was still frowning, and I wanted to be alone, but I didn't want to leave that bench either. I had already decided it was going to be one of my favorite places of escape. I'm not leaving, he had to. Ready to ask him again, I opened my mouth, only to hear him ask me something first.

"Why were you crying?" he asked. For a brief moment, I frowned, about to tell him it was none of his business. Because it wasn't. But I could only close my mouth, and think about the answer. Why was I crying?

"I don't know," I replied, weakly.

And we were silent for a moment. I'm thinking, he must not know what to make of my answer, and so do I.

"You should leave," I said, after a while. I take a moment before I look back at him again, and he met my eyes.

"No, I'm not leaving. Do you own this bench?"

"I don't, but can you please, just go?" I told him, this time, my voice is firmer. This made him frown, and he shook his head. "I'm not leaving. If you want, you can leave."

This frustrates me, and I start to tear up again. I grit my teeth, and say, "No. I like it here." I cross my arms, and turn away from him, my body stiff with annoyance.

"I also happen to like it here, so you can't make me leave," he told me. I let out a sigh. I felt as if all the tears left in me dried up, and I was silent again for a while. Another soft breeze came, drying the tears in my face. I started to smile, and my peripheral vision caught him doing the same. I felt my body relax, and I wasn't as annoyed as I was a few minutes ago.

I plugged in my earphones again, and the sound of the guitars and the drums, and the vocalist's quivering voice filled me. I feel a little happier now. I pulled out a book from my bag, drew my legs up on the bench, and started to read. We ignored each other for the next hour, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw he was writing.

The sky was changing its color. It's getting darker, and the sun was starting to set. I had to close my book, and watch the deep red-orange sun that was starting to hide from the world. Today, my sunset is beautiful, and not as empty as they used to be. I glanced at the person sitting next to me, and he hasn't looked up from his journal. I wanted to scream, because how can he not stop, and look up at colors around him?

I decide I will stay until I can see the sun. After it was gone, so am I. I stood up from the bench, and left without another word.

∞

It has been a week since I first started to come here. This bench was always empty and waiting for me. And I'm so thankful for it. I never saw him again after that first day, and sometimes I find myself hoping he'd come back here again. But he doesn't, and even though I shouldn't be, I feel sad about it.

I mostly read when I'm here. Sometimes, I write songs. I find a connection with this place that I haven't found elsewhere. For some reason, I feel like my emotions are magnified here. I have already decided that this is my place, my own personal space.

I yawn. The past few days drained me of energy. I was barely able to sleep last night, because of the nightmares. I shudder, thinking about them. This darkness starts to cloud my mind again, so I quickly plug my earphones in again, hoping to make these thoughts go away. But they don't, and for the second time this week, I find myself crying again. And I don't stop for a very long time.

It was getting dark when I woke up. I had fallen asleep from crying, and I still felt weak.

"You look like you just cried, again," someone said. It was his voice, I realized. "Why is it that when I happen to be here, you've been crying?"

His question was met with silence at first. Until I cleared my throat. "You've got great timing, I suppose," I replied, finally. "This is the only time it's happened again this week." I didn't intend to share as much, but I did.

"Why are you here?" it was my turn to ask questions, I believe. I turn to see his face. He was looking down at his lap, which had his open journal. I could see scribbles, and drawings in those pages. He closed it, and turned to me. "This place is so quiet. When I don't hear you crying, that is." That earned him a glare from me, but later I find myself smiling. "Last week, that's the first time I've seen anyone else here," he continued. "I've been coming here for a year now, it's kind of my bench."

That made me feel embarrassed. Here I was, thinking I was here first, and claiming it already. "I'm sorry, I should leave." I chucked my book into my bag, and was ready to get up. I hurried away from this place, my heart sinking. I felt like I shouldn't be here.

"You know what, me too," he said, and got up, slinging his bag over his left shoulder. I was already a few feet away when he called after me.

"You know, you can come back here again," he said. I didn't turn, so he asked, "Did you hear me?"

I slowed down, looked at him over my shoulder, and yelled back.

"I heard you."