Convergence

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The Meeting

I woke up in a state of panic. Beads of sweat formed wet lines on the back of my neck. It took me a moment to realize that it was a dream, not reality. I sat upright in my bed for a moment, churning over the quickly fading details of my nightmare in my mind before getting up and walking over to my bathroom. The fluorescent lights were blinding. I stood in the doorway waiting for my eyes to adjust. I leaned over the sink, and looked in the mirror at my tired face. When was the last time I slept through the night? It must have been weeks, and it was obvious. My usually hazel eyes had faded to a muted brown color, accompanied by dark bags. My hair even looked affected by my lack of sleep. It fell in long lackluster bundles down my back and shoulders. The discolored puffy lids that hung over my bloodshot eyes contrasted with my pale skin and freckles, only making my sleep deprivation more obvious.

I turned on the faucet and let the water run for a few seconds, absentmindedly running my fingers through the stream. Leaning in, I splashed the cool water onto my face. I grabbed a hand towel from under the sink and patted my face dry. What is with these dreams? I thought as I flipped the light switch back down, and walked over to my bed

            I lay down and let the warmth of my red sheets and white down blanket engulf me as I sunk into the memory foam topper on my queen sized bed. Closing my eyes tightly I thought keep it in mind, just remember. A bright pair of green eyes was all I held onto from my dream. They were perfectly in focus, but their owner was not. They looked like two emeralds suspended in a shadow, but they weren't the scary part of dream, they were comforting. After another few moments of thought I remembered that there was a scream, it averted the emerald eyes from me. I felt suddenly cold. I quickly pulled out my journal hoping that if I wrote down what I could remember, more would come. Small details began to return, and the faded memory became more in focus. After I wrote until no more new memories came I put my journal back in my faded wooden nightstand drawer and lay back down. I stared up at the speckled white ceiling trying to pull more of the dream from my memory. Upon closing my eyes once more the fuzzy remnants of a room appeared.

It was a pale yellow room, not unlike my own, but instead of a TV, night table, and modest queen sized bed inside it, there was a huge white canopy bed with no other furniture. Next to the canopy, stood a blurry figure, the one with the green eyes, but the figure wasn't the only person in the room. The subtle sounds of quick breaths were drawing nearer behind me, but for some reason, I didn't turn around. That was when I woke up.

I immediately sat back up in my bed, pulled out my journal, and triumphantly wrote down my memory. Satisfied with myself, I lay down once again with the intention of going back to sleep. It took only seconds for my tired body to drift back into sleep mode after my head hit the pillow.

I had no problem falling asleep; it was the staying asleep part that I had trouble with. After what seemed like a second I shot back up, sweat beads on my neck, heart racing. Great. I sighed grumpily and turned to look at the clock on my nightstand. The glowing numbers read 3:47. It had only been an hour.

I figured I might as well stay awake since my dreams wouldn't let me sleep anyway. I got up off of my bed and walked out of my bedroom into the hallway and into my tiny insufficient kitchen. The linoleum floor felt cold and sticky on my feet so I walked quickly to the office. The "office" was just a tiny alcove in the kitchen that my mom designated as the "computer area." She had fit a clear glass desk into the nook, but instead of a wall behind it, there was a large paneled window that overlooked the backyard. The only item on the desk was my massive, outdated computer. I contemplated chucking it in exchange for a laptop as I slowly traced the outlines of the smooth keys with my fingers, but that thought was fleeting. I looked up past the computer and stared out of the window, or at the window. I couldn't see anything but my own reflection, but I still tried.

I pressed the glowing on button on my computer, watched it change from red to green, and waited for the screen to awaken. I opened up my browser and clicked on my email. No new messages. It wasn't surprising; I had only last checked it a few hours ago. I opened up my music player and turned on a slow melodic song. Ignoring my empty inbox I typed dream symbolism into the search bar at the top of the page. After about an hour or so of reading about archetypes and the inner-self I gave up and resorted to watching TV.

I groped the wall in my living room for the light switch but all I could feel was the family picture of my parents and me from their business picnic two years ago. Ah, found it. Even though I'd lived there for two years I was always a little shocked by the red walls. After a moment of adjustment to the new light I admired the picture. Seeing my mom and I together in a picture just made me look even more like a tiny clone of her. I had her thick black curls and hazel eyes. I didn't really look like my dad though. He was tall, blue eyed, and about a hundred pounds overweight. As I contemplated the strength of genetics I walked lazily over to the fire place and turned on the gas. The inside left corner of the fake wood always lit before the rest. As it did, quickly sweeping from the left corner over to the right with a sizzle, I began to feel its heat emanating from the barrier of glass in front of it. I decided not to watch TV. I was content with my warm little fire so I lay down on my back, put my feet up to the glass, and tried to unwind. My tired mind began to daydream and I relaxed my muscles in the warmth of the fire. I placed my hands behind my neck and my head fell into my left palm as I looked out onto the balcony.

There were the eyes.