Isabelle.
The name emerged in the back of Simon Lewis' head as he woke up from another dream. He blinked, slowly noticing the posters on the walls and the mess that surrounded him. He sighed. He wasn't falling to eternal darkness in hell; he was in the safety of his bedroom.
He inhaled deeply and rested his head on the pillow. Isabelle. The girl that had appeared in his latest dreams, the girl that lived only in his dreams. He didn't think about her during the day, she was just a distant memory. But at night, when he placed his head on the pillow, he dreamed about her. The girl with long dark hair and very dark eyes — but oh, how they lightened his dreams. Her body was curvy and covered in tattoos, partially covered by the dark clothes.
Simon knew that it wasn't normal to dream this often with a girl he'd never seen before. But that was the question: he knew her. From the deep of his heart, he could feel he knew her. He saw her fighting with a silver whip and he just knew her history with the weapon. He saw the red ruby pulsing on her neck and he knew his lips had been there once. The dreams didn't feel like dreams — it felt like memories.
He once saw her, sitting on a messy bad, clothes all over the dark room, the trail of tears drawn in her face. She held something — he couldn't see what — but it didn't matter because in the next second he was with her, her lips seeking his and he could remember how broken she was that day and how she burst in tears one moment after. He stayed with her and it was one of the best sensations he had ever experimented and having to wake up without that hurt.
But he also saw her on her best — fighting with all her heart, the whip on her hands, slaying every ugly creature that came in her way. She was heavenly pretty, every movement seemed calculated, and above all she was fearless. You could see in her eyes how she was willing to do what she had to do to save the ones she loved.
He saw her dancing, graceful, the deathly movement of her hips, the red color of her lips. And she was dancing with him. His body moved along with her and they were kissing. And it was heaven, he thought.
Simon was in love with a girl that only appeared to him in his dreams.
And now he knew her name. He remembered her name. The whole thing just seemed more real now. He had a name. It has passed more than thirty minutes and he hadn't forget the dream like usual. His heart ached — he felt an urge to get up and go look for this girl. Isabelle. Go look for Isabelle. He didn't want to wait any longer. He wanted to found her as soon as possible and recover the part of him that was with her. Because that's how he felt —like something had happened to him, taken away a part of him that know he had found. It would explain why he felt like part of his memory had been wiped out.
He was a hundred percent more motivated now. Simon picked his notebook and noted everything —he didn't want to wake up in the morning not remembering all of this — and put a post it on the cover.
He closed his eyes. He had a plan for tomorrow, more than just play with the guys and go to school. He was going to find Isabelle. He was going to confirm that she was real and he had experienced things with her. It was 4 am and he looked at the cloudy sky as he made this promise to himself.
He was going to find her.