Sometimes, I have this dream where all the color in the world is missing and all that is left behind is an empty nothingness that is both black and white at the same time. There nothing as far as the eye can see, but I can hear the sounds of the world around me; the bustling people on sidewalks; the powerful thrum of cars on the road; and the thin, distant whisper of wind as it slips between everything else. It splashes against my face as it passes, cooling my cheeks and letting me breathe in the fresh scents of the world, it's how I know that everything really is there and I just can't see it.
The realization is always scary, knowing that I can't see anything brings fear to me and it wraps me up in its sticky embrace. I begin to think I can't breathe, like all the oxygen in my lungs has been ripped out and I can't pull any in. it's agonizing and horrible and it feels like I am going to die; and then it is over and I am left alone in this empty-but-not-empty place.
I feel drained, the fear having taken all I have when we parted, and I fall to my knees. The weakness is bone deep and startling, pulling to the ground with all its might until I am lying face down on a cold floor, gravel and dirt mixing in my mouth. Time slips by, passing quickly and slowly all at once, but no matter how much time goes by I still can't move. People continue to move around me, feet crunching the ground near my head as they pass. It's as though they do not see me and I begin to wonder if I am even here or if I am some kind of ghost, an apparition being punished for some past transgression.
It is here, when this thought begins to flow over the whole of my mind, that I feel something soft and warm graze my cheek. The heat rests there for minute, poking at my skin, playing with me. I start to wonder if this is the instigator of my torture, though the notion is quickly dismissed: no demon could feel so comforting – even if they are a bit annoying.
A tinkling sound, like metal chime blowing in the wind, fills the air, lilting and carefree. It feels like joy and summer rain- cool, refreshing- filling me with peace and contentment. The weakness leaves me. Hands come to my shoulders, gently peeling me from the ground until I am standing on my knees, it feels like an eternity has passed since I've used my body and everything lights up in excruciating pain. I cry out, my voice scratchy and small from disuse, and try to run from the pain, to get away from it. Struggling and flopping I push against the pain, making it hurt worse in my attempts escape.
The hands are there running over inch of my body and soothing the worst of the aches, until I am still again, cradles like small child inside invisible arms. That tinkle fills me again-laughter I realize- washing over as it had before. I move my mouth to speak even though I have no idea what to say, I feel something urging me to talk. Before I can speak, however, the figure does it for me.
"Everything's okay." It says, voice familiar and girlish, it is a voice of youth and happiness. Though only two words are spoken, I feel calmed, my fears and anxiety crushed beneath the feather soft weight of kindness.
And then I wake, eyes heavy and crusty from sleep and I look over and see your picture on my nightstand and I remember your voice. I remember everything we have ever done together and I recall all the times I secretly relied on you. You were my best friend, the first person to ever show me that there was more to the world than what my parents needed of me. If not for you, I would have never climbed that tree when we were kids and witnessed the world from its staggering height.
These thoughts make me sad, but I am not that sad, because even though you're not here to pull me along anymore, I've grown enough because of you that I can keep going with the momentum you left me.
So thank you Honoka. Thank you for coming to me whenever I need you most and thank you for being with me for all those years. I love you.