A Waking World

I. Wheels Within Wheels

Tim Feller stared at the little feather floating about the air. It glided and swerved in the breeze of the dusk that was creeping in from outside his window. It took Tim a few seconds to realize this wasn't some insect dancing sporadically in the air before him, but only a fragment of some black feathered bird. This solemn piece of nothingness only pretending to live. But why should it not be deemed a living thing, that which when pulled by the the universal strings and spheres of space might still betray the laws that name it 'not alive'.

There it floated, feigning life by defying gravity, caught adrift in a perfect wind. Who is to say that is not its life. Its life apart from its origin. Not just a feather but a ghost of some kind. Alive with secret stories of the places it's been. At last it came to a stop. A gentle landing at the desk beside his window.

This disarray of thought had become a progressive thing. Tim's mind had become a juxtaposition of fear and confusion fastened by a fading sense of rationality. First came a new found sense of awe and clarity acquired through his sessions with Dr. Treel. The dreams had receded slowly, from endless wars with the three faced demons of his guilt and shame, to his victorious battles against his festering fears. It was his newfound focus(thanks to the good ol head doctor) on the beauty of the mundane world that found him his refuge from his sleepful visions, from the shadow ridden faces and the static voices of that dark realm.

"Hey kid," the sudden voice broke his catatonia. Vicky Stella leaned outside his open window, a look of curious amusement painted on her face.

"Oh,... hey, " Tim mumbled.

She had begun climbing through his window now, "Geeez, ya looked like a frickin zombie for a sec there,.." she dusted herself off. "What were you doing?" she asked.

"Just thinking," he replied passively.

Vicky judged him for a second. "No one is ever, just thinking. When someone says it like that it's something," She was looking at him with concern now. "I hope you were thinking about me," she jested.

They looked at each other for a moment, Tim smiled, "Well now you're on my mind, looking at me like that."

"Well," Vicky said, " if you'd like it to stay that way. Tell me what's wrong," She walked towards the bed where Tim sat and took his hand into hers.

"Are you having the dreams again?" she asked, knowing it was a potentially hostile question. Tim didn't like to talk about the dreams anymore. He said he could deal all by himself if he had to. And although he seemed well enough now, she would sometimes catch him staring away at nothing. With a troubled and frightened look on his face. He would always change the subject. But Vicky persisted this time knowing that the trauma of such horrific episodes as he had been through could not just vanish. She asked again, demanding this time. "Well?"

A momentary flicker of anger shifted into a painful expression on Tim's face, "The dreams are always here Vic... I've learned to ignore them, just like Treel said I should. He said I would soon forget them all together if I pretended they didn't happen. That my mind would erase them. But I still feel the dreams Vicky. The shadows just sit at the edge of my sleep. And I wait for them to come and they never do. It's like they're waiting for me ya know. And its not like the dreams I had back then, nothing happens here,. The creatures are just there, even in my regular dreams."

"What do you mean just there?" Vicky asked. "Isn't that still dreaming?"

" I mean they're just there," he struggled to find the right words. " It feels like they shouldn't be there. Like they invaded my dreams. Maybe they're waiting for me to come to them, or maybe I've just lost it!"

"They're still just dreams Tim. It sounds to me like you're scaring and torturing yourself. It's been over three years. You never grieved for your mother then, and Treel said that was the root of it all. And you never have since. You just jumped up and went on your merry way. Loving everything so much you forgot to deal with your problems, again," Vicky knew she was being an instigator, but he had scared her this time. Still, she tried to ease the conversation before it got too heated. There will be a better time for this talk. "Maybe, ... maybe you're just thinking too much."

Tim had also grown weary of the conversation and saw his chance to deviate. " Maybe I am, so tell me. Since you're the expert, how does one just not think?"

"You're lucky I love you kid, otherwise I'd call you an asshole. Asshole." They threw affectionate smiles at each other and Vicky pushed Tim back onto his bed. " I'll make you stop thinking all right, you just watch."

And if only for a few burning moments he did forget his nightmares. They melted into each other, their breath rising and falling with desire, turning into a tempest between their dancing lips. Her kiss had the taste of honey to his tongue and she felt like heaven to him. And him to her. Vicky let her ecstasy escape from her throat, and with every sound she made Tim fell further into her. Their flames feeding of each other in circles until they could take no more. Every muscle in Vicky's body tightened for a lingering eternity and then relaxed into a stillness she understood as bliss. At the climax she saw a world of white which held within it every other color perceivable. Tim too saw color. When his breathing reached its peak his world became enveloped in red. The red that had spawned his dreams. A red veiled in passion that promised fields of roses for lovers but only spoke in flames. The color mistaken for love which truly belongs to blood.