Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
So I make way for some chaos.
The ripple on the surface sends me secrets,
and I keep them.
Like a reoccurring dream
Max Planck by Something for Kate
I was skimming the surface between sleep and wakefulness, the ocean of repose rose and rose until it finally washed me into the calm waters of a deep sleep. The same sleep that had gripped me every night for the past few weeks. Stuck inside visions that felt far too real to be labeled mere dreams. I knew I was not awake, in the forefront of each of those 'dreams' was the knowledge that I was simply asleep, and my subconscious was displaying these fantastically detailed movies of lives that I longed to live. Lives in which I was constantly loved and honored by a man who's face remained out of sight.
That night's dream began in a forest. The dark green of the leaves on the trees surrounding us contrasted sharply with the deep magenta of the long silk ball gown I was wearing. The neckline of the dress kissed my collarbones, sweeping out along my shoulders to caress the top of my arms with a small flounce of fabric. The bodice of the gown cinching tightly to my waist, then flaring slightly down to the ground where a fishtail train swept behind me.
The Man was there. Tall, broad and lightly muscled under my hands, he guided me around the forest floor in a waltz to no accompaniment other than our own heartbeats. The feel of his crisp black tailored jacket felt so real in the palms of my hands, as did the grass beneath my bare feet. Inexplicably in a dream of such luxury my small feet were unprotected from the forest floor. I was not worried about it though, I knew that he would shield me from all harm, even as I did not know who 'he' was. Again and again I was frustrated by being unable to focus on his face. Each time I felt close to revealing his identity, I would find myself looking in an unexpected direction. He held me so tenderly, as though I was made of blown glass, drawing me so close that I could rest my head on the top of his chest.
I turned my face into his shoulder, smelling the rich, ripe scent of vanilla beans, warm caramel, and a slightly musky scent that I couldn't quite place. The succulence was overwhelming, I had smelled it before, the aroma was the reason for my addiction to heated caramel topping on plain vanilla ice cream. The very familiarity made me relax further into him; I was home, I was safe, and I was loved. The visceral pull of his scent wrapped me in an embrace every bit as toasty and strong as the arms that surrounded me and guided me around in whirling circles as we danced with abandon.
Gliding around the forest in his arms, he effortlessly maneuvered us around the trees, over rocks, and deep into the sheltering, forgiving green. I could feel his joy, and mine echoed it. We were celebrating, it was a big occasion but I was unsure what it was exactly. I knew that there were others around us, but no one was close enough to hear or see us, they were deliberately giving us privacy. My sister was there, but that didn't make sense, I didn't have a sister, I was an only child. But, somehow I knew deep in the fabric of my soul that my sister was there, and it came to me that we were celebrating her marriage. To a man who loved her just as deeply as mine loved me. The joyous occasion was touched by a small stain of unhappiness, for as glad as I was that my sister's dreams had all come true, mine would and could not.
I was still trying to make sense of this strange thought when I felt him press his soft, sweet lips to my forehead. He leaned a little closer as if to whisper in my ear but I could not hear him, the quiet whisper having been lost in the shrieking of an owl overhead. I looked up to follow the owl's trajectory, losing my balance in the giddiness accompanying the sudden movement of my head, and I suddenly found myself in what could only be described as a ballroom.
The room was lit by two large candle chandeliers. The walls were fashionably covered in elegant cream wallpaper decorated with soft blue flowers. A small group of musicians were located in a corner of the room, they did not appear to be professionals, rather they were other guests of the house. The joyful clamor of their music echoed the youthful exuberance on display on the hastily cleared dance floor. All around a sea of generic faces, nothing distinguishable about any of them, a disconcerting blur as though I were in need of glasses.
I was clothed in the most uncomfortable corset and dress arrangement. The feel of coarse material under my hands enforced the change in location. I stood to the side of the dance floor watching the couples dance their promenades. I was enjoying the view of someone who was close to me out dancing with a man who was considered a 'good catch.' I felt more comfortable watching the dancing than I should have felt being out on display in front of all the town's people.
She was radiant, the warm glow on her face reflected back at her by the man with whom she was dancing. As restrictive as the dances were, and as little as they were able to touch, they seemed to be moving as one, weaving around one another and the other dancers in a world solely their own. It was disconcerting that while I was able to see their faces, their expressions, and the warmth radiating from them, I was unable to retain any idea of the likeness of either of their faces, the very moment their faces turned away they were lost to me. It didn't seem fair that the face of one whose welfare I held so dear to my heart was lost to me as quickly as it was found. I couldn't understand why their faces were the only ones I could see clearly, but even those I couldn't retain.
A movement closer to me caught my attention, the scent wafting over to me, and I turned to see The Man again, dressed similarly in a formal suit. He was conversing with a third-party who was encouraging him to ask someone to dance, and I worried that the someone would be me by virtue of the fact that I was still standing here rather than dancing myself. Curiously, he remained faceless, however, this time I was treated to the warmed honey tones of his voice uttering the most biting words.
"She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men..."
The rage rose within me, that the man could be so full of his opinion of himself that he could speak so rudely in front of me. A conflict was building inside me; the self whom I inhabited in this dream found it rather amusing and was casting about for the best words to frame this tale for the edification of my sisters. But the me who knew I was still sleeping was about to launch into a tirade directly at him when a loud thump jolted me awake.
I woke to find myself upright in my bed, but having experienced this for seventeen nights in a row, I knew better than to attempt to go back to sleep. My heart was racing, and I could feel sweat raised on my brow, despite the chill of the early morning air. I turned to look at my nightstand to find that my alarm was set to go off in less than an hour; I would simply have to find something to occupy my time until I needed to prepare for the first day at my new job. I swung my legs out of the bed, and directly felt my left foot hit something hard and angular. Hopping off the bed, I retrieved the copy of Pride and Prejudice I had been reading before falling asleep, no doubt it's falling off the bed had been responsible for my startled awakening.
Perhaps the book was also the culprit for the strange location shift in the dream. That was the first time that I had heard the man speak to me after all, and I was almost certain that his words were the first of those uttered by Mr. Darcy. The voice sounded familiar though, I couldn't quite place it, and despite never having heard him speak in my dreams before I was certain that I knew that voice. Shaking my head to clear it of those thoughts I decided that I needed to stop reading that book.
Flicking the book open, I tracked down the neighborhood ball in which Darcy insults Lizzy, and found that they were his exact words. I had definitely been reading this book far too often.
I slipped my feet into my favorite warm slippers. Grabbing my robe from the foot of the bed, I swung it around my shoulders and shuffled out to the kitchen to start the coffee brewing. Even with such a jolt to start the morning I would still require a fair bit of caffeine in order to be semi-coherent by the time I was required at work. While waiting for the coffee to do its thing, I took the book and crammed it firmly into the bookcase, deciding that it would stay there for the foreseeable future. I knew I needed a new book for my bedside table and having decided that Ms. Austen should be relegated to the shelf, I had to choose another. Running my finger across the spines of several books that had failed to capture my interest, I came to a stop at a book I had purchased several months prior on the life of Lewis Carroll. I had yet to actually read the book, and was very interested in the new theories that had surfaced regarding his friendship with Alice Liddell and the circumstances surrounding the writing of Alice in Wonderland. I pulled the book from the bookcase and took it into my bedroom, placing it on the night stand in preparation for the coming evening.
This was a great opportunity, a fresh new apartment, a new job, a new life. My apartment was the first place that I could call my own. Well, the bank very definitely owned a lot of the apartment, but I felt certain that I could at least call the front door my own. Possibly even some of the hallway given the size of my deposit.
My small inheritance from the death of Nana Higginbotham had been expended wisely. Not only had it provided a sizable deposit on the cost of the apartment and paid my legal and moving costs, there had been some left over to replace the carpets and paint the apartment. Since the previous tenant had lived in here with animals, the flooring and walls had definitely shown signs of wear.
I wanted to put down roots in this small community that held such appeal for my father. I had hoped to truly get to know him now that I had the opportunity to see him for longer than two weeks over the summer. I was overjoyed at having a place where the length of my tenure was decided solely by me. My apartment could remain mine for as long or as little time as I wanted. No one could gainsay me on what color to paint the walls, and the soft cream color I chose felt both warm and friendly to me. Between purchasing my new home and performing some renovations on it I had met some lovely people, all more than welcoming, an encouraging sign that I had made the right choice.
The new school didn't seem to present too much of a challenge; after all, children are much the same wherever they are. I had met the principle at Forks High a few times over the last months as I made my decision to move to be near Dad. The school was everything I was hoping for, progressive, interested, and small enough for me to really get to know the students. I wanted to feel as though I was contributing, making a difference in my student's lives and I wasn't getting that in the big schools. I often felt as though I was simply a number, and that the students didn't feel any more valued than I did.
After everything fell through with Christopher I knew I needed to move. I was fast approaching my thirties, with no discernible relationship with my father. A rather checkered history with romantic relationships, and a mother who depended on me far too much. Knowing that something had to change, I took control of my life and started with my location.
For once, I had decided that where I lived would be my choice, not determined for me by the whims of my mother or her latest and greatest man. Phil had actually married her, but I still held very little hope of Renee settling down and enjoying life in Florida with him forever. I knew that sooner or later her itchy feet would set in, and she'd be off in pursuit of the next hobby, house, place, or person. Renee was not one to ever set down roots. Like a shark she had to keep moving to breathe. I had adapted and gone along with that life for long enough, it was time for me to try setting down my own roots and seeing how it worked for me.
The rich aromatic fragrance of the fresh brewed coffee brought me out of my musings long enough for me to grab a mug and pour myself a cup. Doctoring the coffee with lots of milk and sugar, I practically inhaled it and started again. First day in a new job, with all new classes of students taking English literature, required at least two mugs.
Once my second mug was fixed, I settled down at the table with a bowl of cereal and let my mind wander.
Charlie had been so overjoyed at the prospect of my coming to live in Forks that he had wasted no time in introducing me to the principal of Forks High. Michael Howard had been teaching for as long as I had been alive. A respected member of the local community as well as the teaching fraternity, it would be an honor to become a part of his teaching staff. Mr. Howard was a charming gentleman who ran the school with an iron fist. Even so, he retained a glimmer in his eye that suggested he was not averse to causing a few pranks himself back in the day. We had met informally at the start of the summer, after Charlie was convinced that I was determined to move close to him.
I thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon with Charlie and Michael, even if I was forced to fish with them in order to have their attention. An unconventional job interview, but then I wasn't formally interviewing for the position yet anyway. After spending a peaceful stretch of time with them both, stuck in a small boat with our lines languidly dangling in the water, Michael turned to me and informally offered me the position of the new English teacher.
"Bella, I'm going to be straight with you. I can't legitimately offer you the job yet as I haven't formally been notified of Mrs. Henderson's retirement. However, I do know that she's just biding her time, and the official round of interviews will have to be observed in a few weeks. There aren't many people who would even want to apply for the position out here, but I will have to run proper interviews, just make sure you show up to them." The glimmer in his eyes suggested that it would be less of an interview and more of a chance for me to see the school and find out the curriculum I should be teaching.
My return later in the summer yielded an official job offer, and after formally accepting, I took Charlie house hunting with me. I knew that I would like to stay here for awhile, but I wasn't really prepared to take on yard work so an apartment seemed like the best option. Being the chief of police Charlie knew what areas were safest, but I'm sure that proximity to his house, my job and the general condition of the apartment were also selling points for him.
"Bells, you will need to choose which one you want for yourself. These three are my top picks, as they all have something going for them, but it all comes down to personal preference of which one you actually want to buy and set up." I could see the gleam that hadn't left his eyes still evident, more proof that I had made the right decision in choosing to move to Forks. Despite the cold and dreary weather I would make my home here, in a place where my family had lived for many years.
Choosing the apartment I would then live in was simple, after walking through the doors I knew. Despite the work that needed to be done; there was just something about the very walls of this place that made me think 'home.' I knew that I could be happy here, so I signed the contracts that afternoon and soon became a proud new homeowner.
Finishing my breakfast, I moved back to the kitchen to tidy up my dishes and the coffee maker, before heading for my bedroom to straighten the bed and gather my things for a quick shower. In my still not quite awake state, despite two mugs of coffee, I stumbled over a throw rug at the foot of my bed. As if in slow motion, I could see myself colliding with the wardrobe. In an attempt to prevent my head from meeting it's doors, I threw my hands out, slamming one into the door at an awkward angle instead.
The pain was instantaneous, threatening nausea and blurring my vision for a few brief moments with the unshed tears. I had hoped that I could leave my clumsiness behind me on the other side of the country; however, it appeared my luck would not run in that direction. Knowing from past experience that I had not broken it, I chose to ignore the aching and grabbed some clothes to take to the bathroom.
By the time I was ready for school my wrist was a little swollen, but nothing I couldn't deal with. I grabbed the bags I had prepared the night before, knowing that my first day would go much smoother if I was all set and ready to go before I even got up. Ensuring that everything I would need for the day was within, I set off downstairs towards my truck.
Mentally going through my classes for the day, I revised my options for the class I had originally set Jane Austen for. Considering the content of my dreams, I was banishing her from my classroom for the year. As perfect as her books were, I truly did not need them dogging me during the daytime as well as at night.
Huge thanks to Britpacksuccubus who is an amazing beta, a wonderful friend, and doesn't yell at me for my abuse of commas.
Thanks also to Nostalgicmiss for all the hand holding, cheer leading, and question asking that always prompts me to think of something else that needs to be added. And for the most wonderful banners ever!
Lastly (but certainly not leastly), thanks to Miztrezboo for prereading, word spotting and WCs with the Goonies.