Dreamscape

two

I know he told me I could come back, but for some completely vague reason, I don't want to. I really thought I found that place first. I thought I was the first one to recognize it was special, and wanted to call it my own. It's completely irrational, and believe me, I don't understand it either.

I've been staring into space for the past hour, sometimes remembering to pull myself back into this quiet lecture hall. I haven't been very successful. I always wander off, my thoughts rushing to get themselves in line, the damned tangents. One minute, I'm thinking about this, the next it's about another barely related thing...but it always comes back to him and that bench.

"I want to go," I whispered to myself, remembering how peaceful I felt, sitting there, and reading to my heart's content.

"What?" Noah whispered back to me, frowning as he continued to pretend like he was listening to the seminar. Noah is my only friend in this class. We happened to sit together since the first day, and we kind of...talked. He always had these snide little comments or reactions to whatever the professor was saying, and one of them made me laugh once. It was loud enough that a few people around us heard, but the professor didn't. Sometimes, I wonder if that woman in front, teaching, actually cared about us, if she could hear us, or even see us. After that, Noah and I exchanged silent glances, and smiled knowingly to ourselves whenever we found something funny.

"Nothing," I dismissed him, pretending to care to the lesson for two seconds before giving up, and looking at him. "I want to leave," I told him.

"Well, no one's stopping you."

I had no answer to that. So I fell silent, and watched Noah sketching idly on his notebook. He leaned back on his seat. I stared as his hand moved steadily, and almost hypnotically, gliding along the smooth, crème-colored paper. He's creating patterns, like he usually does. Today, they're soft and fluid, like intertwining vines and tendrils, laced with words. I couldn't make the words out though.

"That's beautiful," I remarked. He didn't look up, but he smiled. I smiled to myself as well, because I knew I would receive it once it was done. I glance at the clock, and saw there was only a minute left. I felt movement all across the room, everyone is eager to leave, and already packing their laptops and their notebooks. Dr. Kim, our professor, dismissed us. There was a scramble to get to the door first. I let out a sigh of relief, glad that this class was over. Noah remained in his seat, intent on finishing this sketch. I waited for him. We were the only ones left inside, when he finally looked up at me, with his warm, almond-shaped eyes, and smiled – a smile that was so contagious, I could feel my lips doing the same.

The room was quiet, the professor was busy with the stack of papers littering the desk, and I could only hear the hum of the A/C, and that low static buzzing of the bright, cylindrical light bulbs. I took the piece of paper from his hands, and looked closely at the picture.

"Thank you," I said, truly grateful. "Now get up, we have to leave."

"Right," he agreed, and swung himself up from the seat, sliding the notebook across his table, and bringing it along as he walked with me to the closest exit. My shoes thudded across the floor with every step, and I held the drawing in my hand. As we walked along the halls, I looked at the picture again.

"Did you get this pattern from my dress?" I asked, looking at how the tendrils looked very similar to the print in my dress' skirt.

"Yeah," he answered. "I thought it looked pretty." That made me smile again.

"What are these words?" I asked, grabbing his arm without thinking, while I tried to read what he wrote. "Figure it out," he instructed me. I frowned, staring blankly at the words. We kept on walking, and I recognized some phrases – R.E.M. sleep, memory, retrograde – I looked up at him, and I knew my face tells him I got it, and that I am pleased.

"You need that, don't you think?" he asked, with that sly smile on his face, raising his eyebrows at me.

"I do. You should do this more often," I suggested, chuckling as I held on to his drawing. Laced within the patterns were the contents of our earlier lesson, summarized for me. It was incredibly thoughtful.

"Was it that obvious? That my soul left my body for an hour back there?" I joked, letting go of his arm and stuffing the drawing into my bag, careful not to crumple the paper. He wasn't saying anything, so I look up once more, only to be met with quite an eye roll. I only giggled at that, which was followed by a sigh.

"I'm sorry, I have... things on my mind."

"Clearly."

The cobbled pathways that lined the way towards the buildings interested me. I think I've seen Noah draw this pattern before, green brick tiles forming a cross, surrounded by red, overlapping and interlinking. It must be why it's so familiar, then.

A while ago, we've gone our separate ways – him to his favorite organization (for people who love photography), and me to find something to kill the time. So I walk aimlessly, still not sure where to go.

The bright sun rays touched my skin, comfortably warm, and the soft breeze ruffled my skirt. I wrapped myself in the music coming from my earphones, all the time thinking about Noah's drawings. Can he draw portraits? All I've seen from him so far are patterns, maybe I'll ask him next time...

I spent the next hour inside one of my favorite places: the café inside the campus. It's called Yellow Wallpaper, and I love it. Inside, there are books, pieces of art (no doubt works of the students here), and the walls were indeed yellow. The rich smell of coffee, the sight of art and literature around me – all of it was heaven. I continue reading this book called Uncertainty, which I also found in here. The bright yellow color of the cover contrasted with the navy blue wool chair I'm sitting on. I leaned back comfortably, the book in one hand, and my head resting on my hand, propped up against the chair arm. Time would pass this way, with the smell of coffee, hushed chatter, with books all around me, all of these wrapping me in a gloriously warm embrace.

I had been so comfortable, that I almost forgot I have another class left for today. I reluctantly get up from my seat, and stifle a groan. I start towards the door, bringing my book with me. Getting this one has been worth it.

As soon as I was out of the Wallpaper, my feet automatically take me to the building, where inside you'll find its uniformly-colored glossy white walls, and pleasant, brightly-lit halls. I pause for a minute, holding the door to my next class. I sigh once more, and resign to facing over an hour of this again – sitting and trying to listen – hoping that this time, I could get myself to focus.

Because, unfortunately, in here there's no Noah who's got my back.