Her

Chapter fifteen: The Oldest

Chapter fifteen: The Oldest

Blue; like the endless abyss of the ocean. Brown; like the trunks of trees, standing tall and strong in a forest of greenery. Crimson; like the petals of a stolen rose. These were the colours that made up your face. I was having the dream again; the new version of the dream. I stare at you, my eyes taking in every detail; every freckle, every dimple and every single sparkle that exist in your eyes. But I am also consciously aware that I am holding something in my arms and that your arms are around it too, so we are both holding it. But the feeling is still there of fire crackers popping inside my stomach, one after the other in this fast rhythm that made my heart beat faster in anticipation. Birds still soar in the depths of my stomach and their wings still leave this breeze that sent goose bumps all over my body. But this time I want to ask, what is thing I am holding in my arms? Because I know who you are, I mean I know you name at least. But after having this dream over and over it does feel like I really know you, like I have known you for a long time.

But just like before like before, I want to ask, I even open my mouth to say the words... but nothing seems to come out. I cannot control it; this intervention, this first meeting. All I can do is stand there, staring like every other time and in reaction, your mouth stretches out and your lips separate to show your perfectly white, straight teeth and you smile at me, seeming to notice my frustration like every other time as well. It is the same teasing smile; the smile that makes your eyes twinkle and your cheeks go pink. But it also still makes my spirit soar. But this time I look away as though I am nervous but for what reason I am not sure. I know what is going to come next, I know because I had experienced it so many times before, but this time seems to be different. I seem to be acting more girlishly and nervous like I am shy and unconfident. I don't know if I like this new version of myself. But when I look down, I catch sight of the thing which is in my arms and I feel myself internally gasp; not my dream self, but my actual self because now looking at the thing in my arms I know exactly what it is and I know exactly what it is because I had seen it before and I had seen it before because I had given birth to one.

And even in my dream, a memory seems to flash through my head of how I had demanded to see the last baby I have birth to and how I had demanded to see it because I wanted to see it was like me... but moreso I just wanted to see that it was deformed. I remember how the nurses lifted this thing over the great divide. I remember how It squirmed and wriggled just like someone might imagine an alien to move and it's skin was so pasty, so white in fact that it didn't have any visble mark on it; not a freckle or a blemish or any type or imperfection and everything about it is tiny; tiny hands, tiny feet, tiny body and even a tiny head. This is what I was holding in my arms in the dream – a baby.

Why am I holding a baby? I think to myself inside the dream.

Breeders didn't hold babies; in fact they weren't even supposed to see them. I had broken the rules that day when I had demanded to see it. I don't even know why Patricia had agreed to it, probably because I was so antsy, so strong-willed with a voice so ferocious and strong that she probably didn't have a choice. But I knew I could never hold it. Holding a baby would be really breaking the rules and yet here I was in this dream, holding a baby with this person who had been in the same dream I had, had every night. But why was I holding a baby now? Why had it suddenly changed? It used to just be me and this person standing in a field and now it was we, holding a baby in the field. What did that mean? Was this change in the dream meant to tell me something? But I smile in the dream, because though the feeling was strange and unexplainable, I'm still not afraid.

I'm still not afraid when you lean your head closer to mine because, like every other time, I know what is going to happen. So it happened just the same as all those other times; you leaned in, your smile disappearing, your eyes fluttering closed and my body responded the same way it had all those other times as well; by my own smile disappearing, my own eyes fluttering closed and our two heads moving closer. My body seemed to somehow know what to do when my mind did not, when my mind couldn't even give a name to what we were doing. You pressed your lips onto mine ever so gently and my arms gracefully lace around your neck. Then our lips were moving against each other's in perfect sync like a bow moving against the strings of a violin.