Morning? Has it all been a been a beautiful dream? Surely that's the only explanation. The angel of music is a shy spirit, and would not reveal himself to me so suddenly. Of course it was a dream, and so was the lake, and the music... and I am a chorus girl. Not a Prima Donna.
I feel my eyelids growing lighter as a soft melody draws me deeper into consciousness. My bed has never felt so soft and comfortable. Slowly, I manage to open my eyes. Before me sits a music box, a figure of a monkey playing symbols. Faintly, he performs a tune we often sing in the Palais Garnier. What is he doing here? What am I doing here?
A glance around the room answers me immediately. It wasn't a dream! Heart pounding wild as a racehorse, I rise. He's here, the Phantom of the opera: a guardian angel sent by my father. He has taught me and protected me since I was very young, but tonight was the first time he graced me with the sight of him. Well, most of him.
It was all real... he revealed himself to me in my mirror and brought me to this strange world of music, down in beautiful darkness below the Palais Garnier. Here he is before me, sat at his organ. Mind and logic abandoned, my heart slowly draws me to him.
"I remember there was mist... Swirling mist upon a vast glassy lake. There were candles all around, and on the lake there was a boat... And in the boat there was a man." Sitting at the organ, the Phantom slowly turns... No longer the seductive opera ghost he was before. Gently, his eyes meet mine, before he turns back to his music. In a way, he almost looks vulnerable, striking me with a feeling I don't understand.
"Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask?" I cradle his face gently, and he sighs. It's as if he is starved for touch, lonely Phantom. My hands caress the poor angel, as I think of everything and nothing. What is he hiding? Could it be...
Screaming. I hear screaming. The Phantom is striking me. I collapse to the floor, shocked. My angel, protector, guide, and guardian has never been this angry with me. His wrath fills the room as he continues to cry out in a desperate rage. Before I could think, my fingers had slipped away with the mask, and now I am bearing the consequences. Have I commited such grave a sin that this is the judgement I deserve? From my own angel? For the first time, I silently question his divinity. But I see what I crave to know. The proof lies beneath his shaking hands. His face is a horror, as if burned by the fires of hell in his mind. Shaken, I realize that perhaps, he will truly know me. Perhaps, this terror will let him love me, as no other could in full... And know me as fully as I have dreamed.
Meekly, I hand him the mask.