Adventures Without Maeve

4.

This is an updated chapter

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February 2011, last entry in Notebook 1.

'I wonder if H knows. About anything, and everything, really. For example, can he read my thoughts in the dreams? I've always wondered that, because a lot runs through my mind during them, and it seems like he answers questions I never ask out loud. I wouldn't be surprised if he could. If he can, that means he knows a lot. He knows how much I think of him, even when we aren't in the dreams. He knows I'm positive that I am in love with him. And that I'm always depressed when the dreams end because I realize I can't ever be with him, not really. For a few hours a night, that's all. We don't get long together. H knows every single question I want an answer to, but most likely will never fully get. Such as, why is it like this? Why do I only ever dream of him? What's the point in it? Will anything come out of this, or is it just senseless? H knows it all.

In every entry I write about the things we talk about in the dreams, sometimes small things like my day, other times I ask questions like I did above. And then I talk about my everyday life, outside of the dreams. But I don't think that I have explained how the dreams work, at least on my end. Every dream starts out different, sometimes we are in the woods, my room, places I've never been, it's always somewhere different. Sometimes I have to find H, other times he is just waiting there for me. I always know who he is, always. But in my mind, it's almost as if some of the information has been erased, it's as if I have a life with him outside of these dreams. As if I think that after this we will go home together. Stay together. But then he kisses my cheek, whenever he sees fit, and I remember that we are only ever together in the dreams. It's horrible, kind of. For those brief minutes, I think that H is real, that he is going to be there every day with me. And then it's ripped away. Every time. I can tell that he hates to do it. His eyes always well up with tears, I don't like watching that either. And at the end of every dream, which is usually rushed because H says he has to go quick, he dies. He always dies.

The dreams sound horrible when explained like that, don't they? Those parts are horrible, but the parts where we aren't focused on those facts, are the best. We talk about anything everything, we just get it. I've never met someone I click with like that, not even Indie. H seems to always know the right thing to say, he helps me with everything. Those parts, they're the best. It's like the world falls into place when I'm with him. Everything feels okay, feels right. Those moments are my safe place.

I still haven't told anyone about them. No one would believe me, or understand. I probably wouldn't either if I were them. It sounds crazy, but it isn't. H feels real in the dreams, everything feels real. I've been having them too long for them to just be typical dreams. They aren't typical. They mean something. They have to. They can't not. I wish I could tell someone and they could believe me, but also some part of me wants to keep this a secret. Part of me wants to have H all to myself, to be a complete secret. I think that H would be the same, at least for a while he would be.

On to normal day to day life. Mum didn't come home last night, I'm not surprised. It's the third time she's done it this month. I have to take care of Daemon most of the time anyway, so it's fine. I've always been the one to get him up and ready for school. I sometimes feel like he is my kid instead of hers. Daemon never says anything about it, I know he understands though. He frowns and sometimes tears up when we come home and find mum passed out on the couch, and even more so when I put a cover over her. Daemon would leave her be, I think. But he never got to see the mum that I saw for a good bit of my childhood. Mum used to be good, I swear it. She used to put me before everything, she loved me than anything, or that's what she would say. She took me to school everyday, played with me in the living room, took me out for ice-cream. I used to think she was the best mum ever. That's when I was 4. Then she had Daemon, and she kept doing those things with both of us for a good year or two maybe. And then dad left her, she never said why, and neither did he. But that's when things started going downhill. We started riding the bus to school, daycare for Daemon, a nanny would be waiting for us when we got home, we were lucky if saw before bedtime. Dameon would cry for her every single day. I remember thinking it was horrible. I would sit down with him and play for hours trying to make him forget. A six year old trying to fix her two year old brother. It shouldn't have been that way.