Laterna
Dream-Weaver
- 74
- Posts
- 15
- Years
- Sunyshore City
- Seen Apr 9, 2011
Yes, it's back!
After constant thinking about reworking it, it's finally happened and back on the boards it started on!
Rated PG-13 for mild swearing and violent themes.
Under a tree, I find myself... I'm walking slowly through dense golden foliage... it is not Autumn by my mind, but then, can one really tell within the world of dreams? Nevertheless, it is not the season that is deciding whether these trees are green or golden... it is the fires... the fires of war... it has taken everything... my friends... my family... myself..."you do not belong"... an angry masculine voice speaks... this beautiful world is falling apart before my very eyes and I am powerless to stop it... "you are the cause"... that deep masculine voice echoes in my head... it causes the earth to shudder, the earth begins to crumble beneath my feet and a new being is born... I feel its rage, I know its power and I can not defend against it… I watch silhouettes of my mother and daughters crumble away in the flames and am left with the knowledge that I alone survive on an earth of nothing beyond fire and hate… nothing could win… it was all my fault… I should not exist…
I gasp for breath as I sit up sharply, clutching my chest, wanting to rip out the pain I feel inside. Feeing weak and sick, I feel more fore-head to see if I have a fever, although I know I suffer from no such affliction. It feels like burning pins under my skin, all constantly pricking into me causing sweat to dribble out. I can't breathe. Everything around me appears so disjointed and out of focus. God, please, God, please, help me! I struggle to take in breaths, but do all I can to force myself.
"Calm down," I whisper with my eyes squeezed shut. "Deep breaths, deep breaths, no need to worry, right?"
Holding both hands to my chest, I force myself to breathe in and out, in and out, in and out. I feel my racing heart slow to a steady pace and my body begins to finally settle, no longer trembling, no more sweating, no more tears. Relax.
"It was only a dream, it was only a dream," I tell myself, rocking back and forth.
However, I know it was so much more than "only a dream"... This nightmare has plagued my existence every night for almost three weeks now. I know that if I turn around to face the blinking green numbers of the clock by my bed, I know that it will say 2:32 because it always does. Regardless, I turn around anyway because I have to see it. I have to hope against all hope that it does not show me those dreadful numbers that have been there staring at me every damn night since these bloody nightmares began!
I look around my room: always seeing a shadow on the light blue walls out the corner of my eye, thinking I see a shape crawling across my rose-patterned bed-sheets, a noise tapping at the double-glazed window opposite the bed, someone rustling behind the green curtains... but I know it is just my imagination, it's all in my head and yet I can't shake the images and go back to sleep. I can't help but cry in this situation and so I breakdown as I have done every time this has happened. I smother my face with my hands so that my mother and daughters won't hear me and come through and worry. I know it seems strange to acknowledge the thought of breaking down, it usually just happens uncontrollably, but I fear I am not myself anymore. I feel like every time I have one of these nightmares, a part of my soul is ripped away. They know not of this dream, but only because it is "only a dream" and all I can hope to do for them is to make sure that it stays that way.
Suddenly it is morning, the pure light of the sun has transformed every inch of my room, turning it from the hellish nightmare world of 2:32 to my oceanic sanctuary. I never remember falling asleep, I am just grateful that it happens because, in this light, I feel safe again. Even though if safe means lying propped up against the headboard in a position that goes way beyond uncomfortable. However, this discomfort is nothing new of late - it has become a part of my daily routine. With that, I sit up and stretch out my limbs, kicking off the covers and setting my feet down on the fluffy pale green carpet. It feels so soft as my toes snuggle into it. Wonderfully soft, warm and inviting... so tired… my eyes close and I fall to the floor, the thud of my body against the hard floorboards underneath the carpet fully waking me up. I just lie there though, nuzzling into that fluffy carpet as I enjoy "five more minutes" of pure bliss.
There is a flurry of padded steps from another room and a knock on the door, someone naturally responding to moment of weakness. It does not stop me from hazily getting to my feet. I take a minute to channel a response. So tired. If I don't say something, whoever it is will just come barging in, presuming everything is not alright. Better respond and deal with it on my own terms then.
"Yes?" I respond to the knock groggily.
The aging voice of my mother calls through. "Are you alright in there dear?"
"Yes mom," I speak to her through the door as I am afraid to face her out of sheer embarrassment more than anything else.
I listen carefully as my mother wanders down the stairs, breathing out a heavy sigh of relief. I have to love moments like this, in which the last twenty or so years of my life mean absolutely nothing and, between my own clumsiness and my mother's authoritative voice, I feel like a ten year old again… I wonder how Empoleon would feel in such a situation? Whould he be reduced to feeling like a teeny Piplup again? Thinking on it, he'd probably just not bother - he is his own man after all, so to speak.
Unfortunately, none of this can rid my mind of my nightmares. Thinking on such things may provide momentary distraction from the dangers I truly face, but they cannot erase them. If only I could make their lives' easier. I feel the strong urge to leave, to take myself out of my life, out of everyone's life... I feel I should not exist. I look at the faded blue door - it is the only thing that keeps everything in, it keeps me locked away in my own world. Even so, I scan back across the rest of my room, recalling the shadows that terrorised me during the night. I feel this place no longer is mine, my life is not my own any more.
The faces of my twin daughters suddenly pops into my head - Twila, who is older by about five minutes, and Skya, who is arguably more mature. I close my eyes and study their faces and remember their lives - going to the newly built Trainer's School run by Lucas, with Skya having to drop out upon reaching the age of ten while Twila gets to live that Pokémon Master dream… Skya remained behind to help me care for mother. Someone had to and Twila was already half way out the door before Skya got a chance. That is one of my biggest regrets. I feel that I have given Skya a very large and difficult burden. Maybe things would be better if I…
"No," I say to myself as I tightly grip the door handle.
I have to stay here, I have to stay strong... for my girls. I can't begin to second-guess absolutely every decision I have made over the years and I won't. We all made our choices and, whether it was for better or for worse, I won't take the easy way out. I take in a huge gulp of air, hold it in for exactly five seconds and slowly exhale and then repeat this deep breathing motion a few more times, clearing my head, pulling myself together. I know, deep down, the real reason I am so shaken is because of that damn dream. That voice, telling me I do not belong. I can't let it get to me like this. I have to stay strong for my mother and daughters.
"It was only a dream," I tell myself as I do every morning before heading downstairs.
Opening my bedroom door has never been, nor will it ever be, the hardest part of my day, nor will going down the cream-coloured hall and the stairs, or turning left at the bottom and heading into my bright yellow kitchen slash dining-room. No, all of this, while each step hurts, it is easy and it has to remain easy and simple. I will not let whatever the hell this thing is make me hate my very existence. I am better than that and I damn well deserve better than that.
I enter the kitchen slash dining-room and let the warm glow of the yellow walls and the heat of my mother cooking breakfast welcome me into my life again. I stare for a few moments at my daughter, sitting on the end of the dining table eating toast.
"Good morning," I say to the room.
"Good morning, mom," Skya smiles, noticing me, and gets out of her seat to hug me.
I wrap my arms around her and stare blankly at the have-eaten toast sitting on the table... she abandoned it for me, she abandoned food, life... for me... am I really that important? I pull away from her and shake my head, running my fingers through my short Prussian blue hair, which I inherited from my mother and passed on to both my daughters.
"Are you alright?" Skya stares at me, her face filled with concern.
My mother also approaches, her faces filled with an equal worry.
"Yes," I smile and laugh, looking from one to the other and then back again. "Yes, yes, I'm fine, no need to worry."
They all smirk, my mother and daughter saying together, "when you tell us not worry, that's when we worry the most!"
I embrace my daughter and kiss her head gently, listening to the pair of them laugh at their little joke.
"Whatever," I smirk, "I'll just go have breakfast outside with Empoleon if you two," I laugh as I prod their sides, "are just gonna make fun of me!"
"You'd better eat up fast," mother says to Skya, completely ignoring me, "or else you'll be late for work."
My daughter hurriedly finishes her breakfast and coffee and runs off through the backdoor, situated behind the table. I feel the need to make a mental note of her appearance: Skya is wearing a lovely dark dress-suit, her hair all neatly tied up on her head and her glasses glimmering in the light. A strange sensation has begun to overcome me. I get a strong feeling that something will happen and I may not see her again.
"Hey," I pull in for another hug, "Be careful, okay?"
"Of course," Skya throws me an inquisitive look and shrugs. "Just another day watching young kids live my dream."
I kiss her once more on her head and watch as she walks quickly - or as she says, efficiently - to the Trainer's School. Skya may have dropped out when she was ten, not going on her own journey, but her father allowed her to stay and teach other children. At least, in some small way, she is living her dream and I wish she could see that and the good she does for those kids.
"Something is bothering you," my mother speaks from behind me, startling me.
I spin around and gaze at her as she washes up some of the dishes. She is standing in plain clothes, hunched over the silver sink, the warm water flowing over her hands, washing everything away, like it never existed...
"No, it's..." I pause as my mind fixates on the junk being washed down the drain.
"Earth to Dawn," my mother calls as she turns around, giving me her full attention.
"What?" I ask blankly, my eyes refusing to move away from the flowing water.
It takes me a few moments to focus my mind, but I eventually pull away and throw her a forced smile. Her face tells me that she doesn't buy it, I can see in her eyes that she knows I have lied, the way she purses her lips tells me that she wants to speak but dares not to for fear of upsetting me. I know she knows something is wrong, but I also know that she knows that I need to tell her in my own way and in my own time.
"It's nothing, I just need to make some calls," I stare blankly at the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. "Will you be alright by yourself for a little while?"
She comes closer, placing an aged hand on my shoulder, her tired eyes tell me her real feelings while her lips spew lies, "I'm fine, don't let me be a burden, go on."
I smile and nod and walk back through the kitchen, snapping up the last slice of toast on one of the counters. A trail of crumbs follow me as I wander on through the hall, past the front door and into my wine-coloured living room. Immediately to my left is a black leather sofa, sitting just under a window that looks out on the front lawn. The dark colours call to me, their lifeless essence seemingly pulling me in closer...
"Shake it off, shake it off," I tell myself and look towards the video-phone at the back end of the room. "Really don't have time to wander about," I growl at my mind.
I go towards, pick up the green receiver, dial a number and stare intently at the green-rimmed screen, willing it to switch on and display my friend's comforting face.
"Hello?" the soft voice of my fellow Co-ordinator is heard before her picture appears.
She has not changed in ten years. Her brown hair remains parted at either side under a green bandanna, her shirt a contrasting rosy red.
"Hello May." Tears fill my eyes.
"Dawn?" she asks. "Wow, it's been a while, how are you?"
"I'm fine," I smile at her warm face, her blue eyes filled with compassion as well as passion. "And you?" I return the gesture out of politeness.
"Yeah, I'm doing good," she laughs nervously. "My son just got back from Kanto so things are pretty busy around here."
"Is he still stuck between Contests, Gym Battles and general research?" I make a point of taking an interest in her life before unloading my problems.
"Well, he's struck out research, says he doesn't wanna be like his father..." she pauses.
"What?" I grow concerned. "What is it?"
"I think... I think he's leaning more to Gym Battles, probably my fault for telling him all those stories about Ash when he was growing up, you know?" my friend responds, her voice a little saddened at the thought of her son not following in her footsteps.
The image of Ash, our dear friend, crosses my mind. "Have you heard anything?"
"No... not since..." she chokes up, she begins to sob. "God, I'm sorry..."
"It's alright..." I gaze upon her concerned face and decide not to burden her with my issues at this time. "I'm sorry to have upset you, I'd better go just now..."
"It's okay..." May wipes her tears on her white-gloved hand. "Tell me, what's on your mind?" she forces a smile, but her voice is still trembling.
"Bye," I say awkwardly, unsure of how to even begin to answer that question, thereby deciding that it is best to just end the conversation.
The phone then clicks off as I hang up and I become disconnected from her. I hang up my receiver to reset it and then pick it back up, dial a new number and wait anxiously for the voice and the face of another friend.
"Hello? Hello?" the gruff, manly voice of Brock sounds through and his face soon appeared on my screen.
"Hello old friend," the smile on my face this time is not forced, I feel happy to see someone I was so close too.
His hair is longer than when I last saw him, coming down around his neck. His eyes and face remain so strong looking, so confident. I know this man and he knows me...
"Dawn," he says my name in that voice and my head is flooded with memories.
I cry as it all hits me - everything that has happened since I met this man, all the pain, all the problems, all of my life... And that day, the day he disappeared and... the day all our lives ended and we became the people we are today.
"Hey, hey, hey," he says softly. "Come on, sweetie, tell me what's wrong."
"Brock," I choke out, "I don' t know what to do... I fear that something bad is going to happening, that something bad is happening!"
"Hey," he leans closer to the screen. "Do you want me to come over?"
"No," the feeling in my heart lightens. "Don't be ridiculous, you live so far away."
"Just say the word and I'll be there, I'll find a way..." his voice is shaken.
"No," I repeat, "I'm okay... just had myself a moment there is all... stress and stuff..."
I didn't want him to come, it would be too hard... I couldn't... not after all this time.
"I'm sorry to have bothered you," I bow my head and hang up.
We become disconnected without even saying goodbye, not that I ever could say that to him. Well, maybe once…
Thinking of Ash and his disappearance, of what Misty did, what May did, what Brock and I did… him going away was the catalyst for everything. When I look back on all the years that have passed us by since then, I cannot help but wonder if something more happened on that day that, in some way, fractured everything that has come after, even up until this very moment. None of us have ever been truly happy since then and that's not just considering those who were really close to him - it took Paul and Gary so long to give up the search for him. They looked longer than I and found nothing, not a shred of evidence that could lead them anywhere near whoever the hell he might be now.
If it is all linked, if there is some deeper connection that we are all missing, maybe finding Ash is what is needed to solve everything. He always was the glue that kept us all together. His disappearance happened on Mt. Coronet, near the Spear Pillar. We know there is a deep connection to Arceus there. Maybe… maybe that is the voice in my dreams. Maybe Arceus is somehow trying to warn me with these visions that somehow, without Ash, the world is in danger. But then, isn't that just my mind wandering a bit too far? Trying to link a problem in the present with events of the past? Am I just grasping at straws? What if they're not connected? What if they are two completely separate things altogether? My mind is just swimming with so many questions and not enough answers. I clutch my pounding head and pulling my hair right back before letting it fall loose. I should've just told them what was going on, maybe they would've had some answers. Brock always was fantastic when it came to seeing things that others could not. I should've told them.
"Dawn?" my mother's voice calls gently from the doorway. "Are you alright dear?"
I stand up swiftly and turn around to face her with a smile on my face.
"Everything is good," I walk across the wine-red carpet to her. "Just… reminiscing."
"Try not to cling too much to the past," she says softly as she "fixes" my hair. "Always move forward, always try harder and get to where you want to be."
She's right… as always…
The rest of the day more-or-less crawled in until night reared its ugly head and it was back to bed and, for me, more than likely back to that nightmare. Every night, the thought of "maybe this time will be different" always enters my mind. But maybe this time I would be different - I have a plan this time. I have an idea of where to go from here now. I need to find evidence. I need to connect the elements of the dream together. No more running away from it. I need to face it and conquer it and get my life back!
Although, that is always easier said than done…
Under a tree, I find myself... I'm walking slowly through dense golden foliage... it is not Autumn by my mind, but then, can one really tell within the world of dreams? Nevertheless, it is not the season that is deciding whether these trees are green or golden... it is the fires... the fires of war... it has taken everything... my friends... my family... myself..."you do not belong"... an angry masculine voice speaks... this beautiful world is falling apart before my very eyes and I am powerless to stop it... "you are the cause"... that deep masculine voice echoes in my head... it causes the earth to shudder, the earth begins to crumble beneath my feet and a new being is born... I feel its rage, I know its power and I can not defend against it… I watch silhouettes of my mother and daughters crumble away in the flames and am left with the knowledge that I alone survive on an earth of nothing beyond fire and hate… nothing could win… it was all my fault… I should not exist…
My body suddenly snaps into an upright position, I claw at my chest because something inside is not right, something inside me is wrong. I feel like I cannot breathe and my body is drenched with sweat, like I have a fever, but I know that is not the case for I have been here before.
"It was only a dream, it was only a dream," I tell myself, rocking back and forth.
However, I know it was so much more than "only a dream"... This nightmare that has plagued me has not changed since the last time I experienced it. I know that if I turn around to face the blinking green numbers of the clock by my bed, I know that it will say 2:23 because it always does. Regardless, I turn around anyway, hoping against all hope that it doesn't... but it does... it always does...
I look around my room: always seeing a shadow on the light blue walls out the corner of my eye, thinking I see a shape crawling across my rose-patterned bed-sheets, a nose tapping at the double-glazed window opposite the bed, someone rustling behind the green curtains... but I know it is just my imagine, it's all in my head and yet I can't shake the images and go back to sleep.
Nothing has changed... I carry on within my own personal nightmare... it feels like nothing I can do will ever make this go away…
Hope ya'll enjoyed it ^.^
*mwah*
After constant thinking about reworking it, it's finally happened and back on the boards it started on!
Rated PG-13 for mild swearing and violent themes.
CHAPTER 01 // Two: Thirty-Two
Under a tree, I find myself... I'm walking slowly through dense golden foliage... it is not Autumn by my mind, but then, can one really tell within the world of dreams? Nevertheless, it is not the season that is deciding whether these trees are green or golden... it is the fires... the fires of war... it has taken everything... my friends... my family... myself..."you do not belong"... an angry masculine voice speaks... this beautiful world is falling apart before my very eyes and I am powerless to stop it... "you are the cause"... that deep masculine voice echoes in my head... it causes the earth to shudder, the earth begins to crumble beneath my feet and a new being is born... I feel its rage, I know its power and I can not defend against it… I watch silhouettes of my mother and daughters crumble away in the flames and am left with the knowledge that I alone survive on an earth of nothing beyond fire and hate… nothing could win… it was all my fault… I should not exist…
I gasp for breath as I sit up sharply, clutching my chest, wanting to rip out the pain I feel inside. Feeing weak and sick, I feel more fore-head to see if I have a fever, although I know I suffer from no such affliction. It feels like burning pins under my skin, all constantly pricking into me causing sweat to dribble out. I can't breathe. Everything around me appears so disjointed and out of focus. God, please, God, please, help me! I struggle to take in breaths, but do all I can to force myself.
"Calm down," I whisper with my eyes squeezed shut. "Deep breaths, deep breaths, no need to worry, right?"
Holding both hands to my chest, I force myself to breathe in and out, in and out, in and out. I feel my racing heart slow to a steady pace and my body begins to finally settle, no longer trembling, no more sweating, no more tears. Relax.
"It was only a dream, it was only a dream," I tell myself, rocking back and forth.
However, I know it was so much more than "only a dream"... This nightmare has plagued my existence every night for almost three weeks now. I know that if I turn around to face the blinking green numbers of the clock by my bed, I know that it will say 2:32 because it always does. Regardless, I turn around anyway because I have to see it. I have to hope against all hope that it does not show me those dreadful numbers that have been there staring at me every damn night since these bloody nightmares began!
I look around my room: always seeing a shadow on the light blue walls out the corner of my eye, thinking I see a shape crawling across my rose-patterned bed-sheets, a noise tapping at the double-glazed window opposite the bed, someone rustling behind the green curtains... but I know it is just my imagination, it's all in my head and yet I can't shake the images and go back to sleep. I can't help but cry in this situation and so I breakdown as I have done every time this has happened. I smother my face with my hands so that my mother and daughters won't hear me and come through and worry. I know it seems strange to acknowledge the thought of breaking down, it usually just happens uncontrollably, but I fear I am not myself anymore. I feel like every time I have one of these nightmares, a part of my soul is ripped away. They know not of this dream, but only because it is "only a dream" and all I can hope to do for them is to make sure that it stays that way.
Suddenly it is morning, the pure light of the sun has transformed every inch of my room, turning it from the hellish nightmare world of 2:32 to my oceanic sanctuary. I never remember falling asleep, I am just grateful that it happens because, in this light, I feel safe again. Even though if safe means lying propped up against the headboard in a position that goes way beyond uncomfortable. However, this discomfort is nothing new of late - it has become a part of my daily routine. With that, I sit up and stretch out my limbs, kicking off the covers and setting my feet down on the fluffy pale green carpet. It feels so soft as my toes snuggle into it. Wonderfully soft, warm and inviting... so tired… my eyes close and I fall to the floor, the thud of my body against the hard floorboards underneath the carpet fully waking me up. I just lie there though, nuzzling into that fluffy carpet as I enjoy "five more minutes" of pure bliss.
There is a flurry of padded steps from another room and a knock on the door, someone naturally responding to moment of weakness. It does not stop me from hazily getting to my feet. I take a minute to channel a response. So tired. If I don't say something, whoever it is will just come barging in, presuming everything is not alright. Better respond and deal with it on my own terms then.
"Yes?" I respond to the knock groggily.
The aging voice of my mother calls through. "Are you alright in there dear?"
"Yes mom," I speak to her through the door as I am afraid to face her out of sheer embarrassment more than anything else.
I listen carefully as my mother wanders down the stairs, breathing out a heavy sigh of relief. I have to love moments like this, in which the last twenty or so years of my life mean absolutely nothing and, between my own clumsiness and my mother's authoritative voice, I feel like a ten year old again… I wonder how Empoleon would feel in such a situation? Whould he be reduced to feeling like a teeny Piplup again? Thinking on it, he'd probably just not bother - he is his own man after all, so to speak.
Unfortunately, none of this can rid my mind of my nightmares. Thinking on such things may provide momentary distraction from the dangers I truly face, but they cannot erase them. If only I could make their lives' easier. I feel the strong urge to leave, to take myself out of my life, out of everyone's life... I feel I should not exist. I look at the faded blue door - it is the only thing that keeps everything in, it keeps me locked away in my own world. Even so, I scan back across the rest of my room, recalling the shadows that terrorised me during the night. I feel this place no longer is mine, my life is not my own any more.
The faces of my twin daughters suddenly pops into my head - Twila, who is older by about five minutes, and Skya, who is arguably more mature. I close my eyes and study their faces and remember their lives - going to the newly built Trainer's School run by Lucas, with Skya having to drop out upon reaching the age of ten while Twila gets to live that Pokémon Master dream… Skya remained behind to help me care for mother. Someone had to and Twila was already half way out the door before Skya got a chance. That is one of my biggest regrets. I feel that I have given Skya a very large and difficult burden. Maybe things would be better if I…
"No," I say to myself as I tightly grip the door handle.
I have to stay here, I have to stay strong... for my girls. I can't begin to second-guess absolutely every decision I have made over the years and I won't. We all made our choices and, whether it was for better or for worse, I won't take the easy way out. I take in a huge gulp of air, hold it in for exactly five seconds and slowly exhale and then repeat this deep breathing motion a few more times, clearing my head, pulling myself together. I know, deep down, the real reason I am so shaken is because of that damn dream. That voice, telling me I do not belong. I can't let it get to me like this. I have to stay strong for my mother and daughters.
"It was only a dream," I tell myself as I do every morning before heading downstairs.
Opening my bedroom door has never been, nor will it ever be, the hardest part of my day, nor will going down the cream-coloured hall and the stairs, or turning left at the bottom and heading into my bright yellow kitchen slash dining-room. No, all of this, while each step hurts, it is easy and it has to remain easy and simple. I will not let whatever the hell this thing is make me hate my very existence. I am better than that and I damn well deserve better than that.
I enter the kitchen slash dining-room and let the warm glow of the yellow walls and the heat of my mother cooking breakfast welcome me into my life again. I stare for a few moments at my daughter, sitting on the end of the dining table eating toast.
"Good morning," I say to the room.
"Good morning, mom," Skya smiles, noticing me, and gets out of her seat to hug me.
I wrap my arms around her and stare blankly at the have-eaten toast sitting on the table... she abandoned it for me, she abandoned food, life... for me... am I really that important? I pull away from her and shake my head, running my fingers through my short Prussian blue hair, which I inherited from my mother and passed on to both my daughters.
"Are you alright?" Skya stares at me, her face filled with concern.
My mother also approaches, her faces filled with an equal worry.
"Yes," I smile and laugh, looking from one to the other and then back again. "Yes, yes, I'm fine, no need to worry."
They all smirk, my mother and daughter saying together, "when you tell us not worry, that's when we worry the most!"
I embrace my daughter and kiss her head gently, listening to the pair of them laugh at their little joke.
"Whatever," I smirk, "I'll just go have breakfast outside with Empoleon if you two," I laugh as I prod their sides, "are just gonna make fun of me!"
"You'd better eat up fast," mother says to Skya, completely ignoring me, "or else you'll be late for work."
My daughter hurriedly finishes her breakfast and coffee and runs off through the backdoor, situated behind the table. I feel the need to make a mental note of her appearance: Skya is wearing a lovely dark dress-suit, her hair all neatly tied up on her head and her glasses glimmering in the light. A strange sensation has begun to overcome me. I get a strong feeling that something will happen and I may not see her again.
"Hey," I pull in for another hug, "Be careful, okay?"
"Of course," Skya throws me an inquisitive look and shrugs. "Just another day watching young kids live my dream."
I kiss her once more on her head and watch as she walks quickly - or as she says, efficiently - to the Trainer's School. Skya may have dropped out when she was ten, not going on her own journey, but her father allowed her to stay and teach other children. At least, in some small way, she is living her dream and I wish she could see that and the good she does for those kids.
"Something is bothering you," my mother speaks from behind me, startling me.
I spin around and gaze at her as she washes up some of the dishes. She is standing in plain clothes, hunched over the silver sink, the warm water flowing over her hands, washing everything away, like it never existed...
"No, it's..." I pause as my mind fixates on the junk being washed down the drain.
"Earth to Dawn," my mother calls as she turns around, giving me her full attention.
"What?" I ask blankly, my eyes refusing to move away from the flowing water.
It takes me a few moments to focus my mind, but I eventually pull away and throw her a forced smile. Her face tells me that she doesn't buy it, I can see in her eyes that she knows I have lied, the way she purses her lips tells me that she wants to speak but dares not to for fear of upsetting me. I know she knows something is wrong, but I also know that she knows that I need to tell her in my own way and in my own time.
"It's nothing, I just need to make some calls," I stare blankly at the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. "Will you be alright by yourself for a little while?"
She comes closer, placing an aged hand on my shoulder, her tired eyes tell me her real feelings while her lips spew lies, "I'm fine, don't let me be a burden, go on."
I smile and nod and walk back through the kitchen, snapping up the last slice of toast on one of the counters. A trail of crumbs follow me as I wander on through the hall, past the front door and into my wine-coloured living room. Immediately to my left is a black leather sofa, sitting just under a window that looks out on the front lawn. The dark colours call to me, their lifeless essence seemingly pulling me in closer...
"Shake it off, shake it off," I tell myself and look towards the video-phone at the back end of the room. "Really don't have time to wander about," I growl at my mind.
I go towards, pick up the green receiver, dial a number and stare intently at the green-rimmed screen, willing it to switch on and display my friend's comforting face.
"Hello?" the soft voice of my fellow Co-ordinator is heard before her picture appears.
She has not changed in ten years. Her brown hair remains parted at either side under a green bandanna, her shirt a contrasting rosy red.
"Hello May." Tears fill my eyes.
"Dawn?" she asks. "Wow, it's been a while, how are you?"
"I'm fine," I smile at her warm face, her blue eyes filled with compassion as well as passion. "And you?" I return the gesture out of politeness.
"Yeah, I'm doing good," she laughs nervously. "My son just got back from Kanto so things are pretty busy around here."
"Is he still stuck between Contests, Gym Battles and general research?" I make a point of taking an interest in her life before unloading my problems.
"Well, he's struck out research, says he doesn't wanna be like his father..." she pauses.
"What?" I grow concerned. "What is it?"
"I think... I think he's leaning more to Gym Battles, probably my fault for telling him all those stories about Ash when he was growing up, you know?" my friend responds, her voice a little saddened at the thought of her son not following in her footsteps.
The image of Ash, our dear friend, crosses my mind. "Have you heard anything?"
"No... not since..." she chokes up, she begins to sob. "God, I'm sorry..."
"It's alright..." I gaze upon her concerned face and decide not to burden her with my issues at this time. "I'm sorry to have upset you, I'd better go just now..."
"It's okay..." May wipes her tears on her white-gloved hand. "Tell me, what's on your mind?" she forces a smile, but her voice is still trembling.
"Bye," I say awkwardly, unsure of how to even begin to answer that question, thereby deciding that it is best to just end the conversation.
The phone then clicks off as I hang up and I become disconnected from her. I hang up my receiver to reset it and then pick it back up, dial a new number and wait anxiously for the voice and the face of another friend.
"Hello? Hello?" the gruff, manly voice of Brock sounds through and his face soon appeared on my screen.
"Hello old friend," the smile on my face this time is not forced, I feel happy to see someone I was so close too.
His hair is longer than when I last saw him, coming down around his neck. His eyes and face remain so strong looking, so confident. I know this man and he knows me...
"Dawn," he says my name in that voice and my head is flooded with memories.
I cry as it all hits me - everything that has happened since I met this man, all the pain, all the problems, all of my life... And that day, the day he disappeared and... the day all our lives ended and we became the people we are today.
"Hey, hey, hey," he says softly. "Come on, sweetie, tell me what's wrong."
"Brock," I choke out, "I don' t know what to do... I fear that something bad is going to happening, that something bad is happening!"
"Hey," he leans closer to the screen. "Do you want me to come over?"
"No," the feeling in my heart lightens. "Don't be ridiculous, you live so far away."
"Just say the word and I'll be there, I'll find a way..." his voice is shaken.
"No," I repeat, "I'm okay... just had myself a moment there is all... stress and stuff..."
I didn't want him to come, it would be too hard... I couldn't... not after all this time.
"I'm sorry to have bothered you," I bow my head and hang up.
We become disconnected without even saying goodbye, not that I ever could say that to him. Well, maybe once…
Thinking of Ash and his disappearance, of what Misty did, what May did, what Brock and I did… him going away was the catalyst for everything. When I look back on all the years that have passed us by since then, I cannot help but wonder if something more happened on that day that, in some way, fractured everything that has come after, even up until this very moment. None of us have ever been truly happy since then and that's not just considering those who were really close to him - it took Paul and Gary so long to give up the search for him. They looked longer than I and found nothing, not a shred of evidence that could lead them anywhere near whoever the hell he might be now.
If it is all linked, if there is some deeper connection that we are all missing, maybe finding Ash is what is needed to solve everything. He always was the glue that kept us all together. His disappearance happened on Mt. Coronet, near the Spear Pillar. We know there is a deep connection to Arceus there. Maybe… maybe that is the voice in my dreams. Maybe Arceus is somehow trying to warn me with these visions that somehow, without Ash, the world is in danger. But then, isn't that just my mind wandering a bit too far? Trying to link a problem in the present with events of the past? Am I just grasping at straws? What if they're not connected? What if they are two completely separate things altogether? My mind is just swimming with so many questions and not enough answers. I clutch my pounding head and pulling my hair right back before letting it fall loose. I should've just told them what was going on, maybe they would've had some answers. Brock always was fantastic when it came to seeing things that others could not. I should've told them.
"Dawn?" my mother's voice calls gently from the doorway. "Are you alright dear?"
I stand up swiftly and turn around to face her with a smile on my face.
"Everything is good," I walk across the wine-red carpet to her. "Just… reminiscing."
"Try not to cling too much to the past," she says softly as she "fixes" my hair. "Always move forward, always try harder and get to where you want to be."
She's right… as always…
The rest of the day more-or-less crawled in until night reared its ugly head and it was back to bed and, for me, more than likely back to that nightmare. Every night, the thought of "maybe this time will be different" always enters my mind. But maybe this time I would be different - I have a plan this time. I have an idea of where to go from here now. I need to find evidence. I need to connect the elements of the dream together. No more running away from it. I need to face it and conquer it and get my life back!
Although, that is always easier said than done…
Under a tree, I find myself... I'm walking slowly through dense golden foliage... it is not Autumn by my mind, but then, can one really tell within the world of dreams? Nevertheless, it is not the season that is deciding whether these trees are green or golden... it is the fires... the fires of war... it has taken everything... my friends... my family... myself..."you do not belong"... an angry masculine voice speaks... this beautiful world is falling apart before my very eyes and I am powerless to stop it... "you are the cause"... that deep masculine voice echoes in my head... it causes the earth to shudder, the earth begins to crumble beneath my feet and a new being is born... I feel its rage, I know its power and I can not defend against it… I watch silhouettes of my mother and daughters crumble away in the flames and am left with the knowledge that I alone survive on an earth of nothing beyond fire and hate… nothing could win… it was all my fault… I should not exist…
My body suddenly snaps into an upright position, I claw at my chest because something inside is not right, something inside me is wrong. I feel like I cannot breathe and my body is drenched with sweat, like I have a fever, but I know that is not the case for I have been here before.
"It was only a dream, it was only a dream," I tell myself, rocking back and forth.
However, I know it was so much more than "only a dream"... This nightmare that has plagued me has not changed since the last time I experienced it. I know that if I turn around to face the blinking green numbers of the clock by my bed, I know that it will say 2:23 because it always does. Regardless, I turn around anyway, hoping against all hope that it doesn't... but it does... it always does...
I look around my room: always seeing a shadow on the light blue walls out the corner of my eye, thinking I see a shape crawling across my rose-patterned bed-sheets, a nose tapping at the double-glazed window opposite the bed, someone rustling behind the green curtains... but I know it is just my imagine, it's all in my head and yet I can't shake the images and go back to sleep.
Nothing has changed... I carry on within my own personal nightmare... it feels like nothing I can do will ever make this go away…
END OF CHAPTER ONE
Hope ya'll enjoyed it ^.^
*mwah*
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