The Gospel of the Font

Chapter 21

Is this my afterlife? Is there really an existence after you pass on? I'm aware of myself. I know who I am and that I exist. I have my memories and my emotions. I am still Faith Meade, but, where am I?

I have feeling in my body, if it is even my body. I can hear sounds, smell odors in the air, and feel a soft surface against my back. I must be lying down. The world is still black, but I'm pretty sure my eyes are closed. It's like I've been asleep and... Holy shit, have I been asleep?!

I rapidly sit up with a gasp. I'm awake, very much alive and in...my room?! I'm in my bed. My dirty clothes are scattered all over the floor. There is a poster of Albert Einstein sticking his tongue out on the wall by the door and my laptop is sitting on the desk covered in papers.

My eyes dart downward. I'm in my pajamas! I have on a silk, beige tank top and matching sleep pants. These are my clothes and my sheets. I'm definitely in my room, which is a pretty big change from staring down a gun in the middle of the woods. How did I get here? How long was I out? I died! I remember getting shot and the world fading to blackness, but I feel perfectly fine, almost as if it never happened, almost as if it were...

"A dream?" I whisper to myself. It can't be. There's no goddamn way that was all a dream! If that was all a dream, then where did it start? Did I really become the Font? Did I meet Lucifer? Fuck, did I even take that trip to Egypt?!

My head is swimming as I try to quickly sort my memories into fantasy and reality categories. If that was all a dream, then it was the most real feeling dream I've ever had. I really feel all messed up right now. Maybe if I get up and move around, I can sort it all out.

I swing around and place my feet on the floor. The carpet feels a little cold after my feet have been under the covers. I stand slowly, stretching my muscles along the way. My hands rise above my head and I stand on my tiptoes. How do I know for sure if it was a dream? Do I call someone? Do I turn on the news? I feel foolish for even thinking this, but I'm really having trouble distinguishing real from dreams now.

The mark! Of course! What better way to tell than to look for the mark. I take five, quick steps to the other side of the room where the door to my bathroom is. I'm halfway into the room before I even reach for the light switch. My fingers find it on my way and the dark room is suddenly illuminated under the bright lights of the five bulbs above the mirror.

My eyes squint at the sudden influx of light hitting them, making my vision momentarily blurry. Regardless, I turn to the far wall where the mirror is and place my hands on the sink. I see all my hair, makeup, and hygiene products scattered haphazardly around the tiny sink as my eyes get used to the light. The base of the sink is stained since I never clean it and the soap pump is knocked over inside of it. With my vision finally clear again, I look up at my own reflection.

It's not there.

I just stand there in shock. I don't know what to think. Could I really have just dreamed all of that? That was over a year of my life, but it didn't happen? That can't be!

I close my eyes as I lower my head. I feel myself starting to cry; the tears are stinging the backs of my eyes on their way to the surface. I know it sounds foolish, but I don't want it to not be real. Even with all the terror, all the heartbreak, it felt right. The work I was doing felt important. It gave my life meaning. I should be happy that life can resume business as usual, but I'm not. How do I go back to my regular life after a dream like that?

"Good, you're up," Tim says as he appears behind my reflection.

I about jump out of my skin at his sudden appearance. My heart skips a beat as my right-hand rushes to my chest to calm it. My head snaps around to look at him. Why is he here? How long has he been here?