Dreams and Love--
I was sitting in Susannah's room, reading. Suddenly she cried out in her sleep, as she'd been prone to doing lately. I stood up and walked over next to her bed. I watched as Susannah tossed around in her sleep, as she cried out again, trapped in yet another nightmare, a reoccurrence of the same nightmare she'd been having for weeks, ever since Paul Slater came and left her stranded in that place--the shadowland--and ever since I'd kissed her that singular, forbidden kiss.
A few moments later, she rolled over again. Her face contorted into an expression of anguish and fear. Seeing this, I felt a pang of sadness, for I longed to be able to hold her, to be able to tell her that everything would be all right, but I could not have done that. In one moment of weakness, I had kissed her, and I hadn't even know whether she felt the same way about me as I did about her. I would have given anything--anything--to know, but I had nothing to give. To be honest, that was good. A relationship between Susannah and me could only end in heartbreak. That was the last thing she ever needed.
I should not have stayed there with her in her bedroom. My staying there only made everything worse for both of us. For me, I would be there with her, seeing her and knowing I could never have her; and for her, I do not know how she was affected, but I do know that she most likely did not want me around.
Just as I was reflecting upon this, staring down at her sleeping form, Susannah mumbled something in her sleep that I couldn't quite understand, but for a moment, she looked much calmer than she had in some time since the nightmare had begun. I felt relieved to see her finally relaxed. She remained calm for a few minutes, then her calm expression was replaced by yet another expression of fear, and maybe even pain.
What was she dreaming that scared her so badly? Was she dreaming of the shadowland?
Scared for her and wishing I could protect her, I reached out and brushed her cheek with my hand. Her skin felt very warm, entirely too warm for her to have a restful night of sleep. The nightmare was taking an effect on the rest of her body, as well as stressing her mind.
I suddenly found myself wanting to kiss her again, wanting to hold her, wanting to make her safe from the nightmares that plagued her nightly, as if kisses and embraces could protect her.
Giving in to weakness once again, I leaned down and kissed her softly on the cheek. By that point, the dream had ended and she was still, her breathing even and calm. She was finally in so deep a sleep, I doubted she'd ever know I had been there, but as my lips brushed against her skin, and I looked down at her again, I could have sworn she was smiling.
