The ENTOURAGE

10: s u r r e a l

I watched my dreams through my fingers.

Fallen into the warped visions; I was semi-conscious. They were so real, so distorted like memories made only seconds ago in the next life - I couldn't shake the déja vù that clung to every surreal second that passed, possessing the same quality life did - in which I walked through on autopilot, unsure as to where the truth lay.

Inexorable but early, fall had settled in. Edith, being more susceptible to the cold than I, always closed doors behind herself. She hated when doors were left open and the draught followed through the big old house in which we grew up. I could hear her over my dreams' piano playing, scolding me for leaving it open yet again.

A door slammed, and I finally peeled through layers of alcohol-induced exhaustion to place reality, but reality offered no clarity, no relief. The covers were at the bottom of the bed, my arms goose-pimpled in the early morning chill.

When I lifted my head to investigate, I was in my new bed, new dorm, suddenly acutely aware that there were people sleeping in rooms either side of me - I wondered if a door actually slammed.

I pulled on a hoodie from one of Edith's open suitcases as I peeked out of my room, padding out into the common room of the Haunt, careful to silently slide shut the door behind me.

Wandering out, the curtains were drawn to make flowing room dividers. Now it was in effect, the idea was, while aesthetically appealing, rather creepy and dysfunctional as far as walls went - I figured whoever was last out here never drawn them back. Someone had also left a lamp on and a window open. The low light poured beneath the breathing curtains, the shadows sliced into by the light as it pooled further form the source.

In my mind's eye, Edith grinned at me - in the kitchen late a night, I could clearly see the yellow light from the fridge lighting up her face as she grabs the chocolate. Because she liked her chocolate cold, to be eaten in contrast with a hot chocolate drink. It was a simple image, but it's one never captured, never made tangible, something I knew I would never see again. It existed purely in my memory, prickling behind my eyes.

To bring it to some semblance of fruition, I took one of the chocolate bars out of the candy cupboard and placed it in the refrigerator door with the milks, the cold white light disenchanting my memory. Over at the trio of windows, inspecting the high rise buildings against the night, I saw only an orange New York glow against a blanket sky, no stars, no moon.

Something in me expected the moonlight from the dream to pool across the floor and paint the room in its eerie blue, instead, save for the lamp, I was left disillusioned in the dark. The upright keyboard sat alone against the wall, untouched and cold. Its keys were hidden beneath the lid to keep them safe from the settling dust, but the shallow groove in the timber implored I open it as I traced my fingers along its sanded edge. Back and forth, back and forth.

What could I play?

Pieces of the dream still swam before my minds eye, distorted memories plaguing my vision.

The lake was ever-present, that I knew. I could feel it; it was there after we escaped one of the Hotel Launch parties, each with a bottle of wine stolen from behind the bar; it was there when we were running and yelling into the acres of unlit vines under a full moon, still in our stupidly expensive endorsed outfits; it was there when we were just walking the block from school to meet Wes to take us home.

It was there when Edith told me, but she didn't tell me, she just sent the knowledge to me without even opening her mouth to tell me the thoughts are back, the words sinking into my skull like a stone.