FADED PHOTOGRAPHS

A Sohma Kana Narraration/Narrative Recount

Sohma Kana SO doesn't belong to me, and neither does Hatori/Faceless man. Jiro does, but I don't want him. You take him. (not really . )

Ktfoo Inc.

PS- HAPPY B-DAY KEHZ!

PPS- This is one-shot only.. sorry!

My eyes opened wide, but I closed them quickly. I didn't want to lose the after-image dancing on my eyelids. My dreams had returned.

I gathered myself up so I was sitting, cocooned by my comforter. It wasn't a reoccurring dream, technically, because different things happened every night. But the same man always appeared in it, the same man whose face I could never see. They didn't seem quite like dreams in the first place- a dream always seems vivid when you wake up, and then it fades over the day. With these, it was almost like they had already faded once they came to me but I always remembered every fuzzy detail. It was like looking at old newspaper photographs, where everything was just blurry enough that you had to read the whole article to figure out what the picture was. The only difference was that I didn't have an accompanying article and could only try to make sense of my photographs.

The first time I had a dream with that man, I was in a place I couldn't quite recognize. I couldn't make out my surroundings, only seeing a wall with a window. Outside there was a beautiful winter scene, with snow beginning to fall. It was so pretty; I couldn't help but smile wide. The man stood behind me, the space around him like an old army tank- tightly locking away anything vulnerable inside.

"What does snow become when it melts?" I asked. The most dream-like quality of these dreams is probably my absence of thought. I say and do things without knowing why. But, at the same time, what I do always ends up being something that I would do normally, which never happens for me in dreams.

"It becomes water, of course," The faceless man replied. He sounded indignant. "No, silly, it becomes spring! I think spring is my favorite time of year."

That was the end of that photograph.

I'd actually gotten to know the faceless man really well. He was shy, and sweet, and had to spend a lot of time with his family. He always knew what to say when I felt terrible, and he cared so much about other people, and he greatly disliked the color yellow. I got a weird feeling sometimes like he knew me, too, even though my medical training told me he was some fragment of a dream in my subconscious.

There was another time in a dream, when my boyfriend broke up with me. I actually had been with Jiro, but my mind altered the events a little. I had been crying nest to the same window as the other dream. The faceless man told me to come one, we'd go to lunch. I opened up about the break-up at my favorite sushi bar nearby. Jiro had told me that I wasn't good enough, wasn't giving him what he wanted, and a bunch of other generic crap. The faceless man listened to me wail a while and told me that often people give away the best things in their lives because they're afraid, and that people who can't see how good they have it often push it away harder, and without realizing. I smiled as another tear escaped.

It was obvious after that dream that time had passed in my subconscious, because he seemed much more comfortable around me. He was less stoic and spoke more often. Though I couldn't make out his face, I could tell when he was smiling. The air around him seemed to soften and lift its protective barrier, letting a little light shine through.

I had a few more dreams after that, although none of that length for a few months. The things I remembered most were his easy smiles. Even without seeing them clearly, they were always the most vivid part of my dreams.

The next long dream I had was in the same room as the first one, and where the other began. We were both sitting in roll-y office chairs, but the rest of the room was still invisible. I was watching the faceless man in what felt like anticipation, waiting for something important. He opened a book or a binder, I couldn't tell which. Although his back was turned to me I could still feel him smiling. He spun in his chair, revealing my grinning face. In his hand he held a still-wrapped gift. "Happy birthday!" I squealed. He deftly unwrapped that paper, but I awoke just before he opened the white box. I was just glad to have felt his smile.

I dreamt almost every night after that. Sometimes it was just a flash, sometimes more. Last time I went to that sushi bar I found myself sitting at that table where me and the faceless man often talked. I kept reminding myself that it was a dream, something my mind entertained itself by creating, but somehow that thought grew less and less important.

The dream I woke up from just now was more vivid than ever before. The photograph had barely faded. We were next to the window, once again. This time we stood next to each other, not in front or behind, gazing out together. Our fingers were interlocked tightly.

We spoke quietly for a long time, mostly of light topics. Then somehow Jiro came up. The previous night he had asked to talk to me at my apartment door, to which I responded by slamming said door in his face. Eventually, after he whined enough, I let him in. He begged me to come back to him, to let me in his life again, and finally I got him out by telling him I would think about it and call him back. The faceless man looked at me, strait in the eye. His face was clearer than it had ever been, and almost familiar, like looking at a friend through pool water. He told me he hoped I would never be with someone like Jiro, who couldn't care about my heppiness. I smiled, trying to look reassuring, and told him that I had severed that relationship and wasn't going back to it. For a moment he looked at me so intensely I could almost make out his eyes. "I just want you to be happy, Kana."

I wasn't sure how it happened after that. I felt him take my hands and pull me closer, and I could feel his body heat. A face I couldn't quite make out leaned close to my own. The second his lips pressed against mine I woke up.

It was crazy, I was about to get married and I was in love with a person all my schooling told me wasn't real. But it was almost like I could feel him with me sometimes, just past my reach. I could feel myself lift when I saw him at night. It's like if I weren't missing one part of a puzzle, the faceless man would've be alive and breathing in front of me. I love my fiancé, of course, and we make each other happy, but it feels like we're marrying each other because it seems right, not because we want to. I was afraid my fiancé would never be that missing piece to the puzzle, the one I can truly want to be with forever.

Did I pass that chance to have that up?

Did I ruin the good was in front of me, because I was afraid, without realizing it?

The sun glinted through my bedroom window, and I looked outside.

The snow was melting.

Tah-dah! This one began writing itself around midnight and lasted hand-written until 1:45, then I typed it up the next day... and here it is! Te gusta?

Reveiws, as always, appreciated.