"Wake on my air plane

wake on my airplane

my skin is bare, my skin is theirs…

wake on my airplane, awake on my airplane

my skin is bare, my skin is theirs…

I…feel like a newborn

I feel like a newborn

awake on my airplane, awake on my airplane I-

feel so real"

-Take a Picture by Filter

It was cold the next morning, and I slid out of bed, sucking in my breath at the drop in temperature. The sky was streaked with pinks and reds, and for some odd reason the sunrise gave me hope. I padded down the hallway and into the kitchen as a realization struck me. Today was October 2nd, today was my birthday.

" I wonder if anyone will remember?" I asked the silence, " I wonder…if they'll care?"

As always, there was no answer; just me alone in my kitchen, talking to myself, searching for answers. Finding nothing appetizing in the refrigerator, I went back to my room to dress for…I didn't know what.

I rifled through my closet pulling out a pink sundress, and slid it over my head. Running a brush through my hair, I finished off my morning routine and grabbed my art supplies.

I was in the mood to paint, for something had been on my mind, haunting me. In my dreams I saw the shadowed figure of someone, always the same someone, always when I closed my eyes. A tall lithe figure, blond hair catching the sunlight. Try as I might, I could not dismiss this image, or erase it from my memory. His face, always the same, somehow I knew that-the only problem was, I never actually saw it. There were always shadows in the dream, hiding him from me.

No matter, my subconscious would remember what my conscious mind forgot. Climbing into my battered car I drove for a while, in search of someplace where I could have solitude to paint. I smiled, thinking of one place where I could find this sought after solitude; the forest.

There weren't many of them left, and this saddened me. They were killing the earth slowly, like a cancer. Soon it would be no more…What would happen when the trees were all gone, the rape of the earth complete. It wasn't as if I wasn't participating in it, burning exhaust into the already filthy air, crushing grass with my tires and spending wasting paper…I shook my head, it was my birthday, a day for celebration, a day to erase all bad thoughts…and to remember.

Yeah.

I pulled my car near a tree and parked. Green, lush green as far as I could see; the forest, my first love. I slid out of the car and brushed strands of tangled black hair out of my eyes. The forest never questioned, never judged. It didn't care who I was, where I came from, what I looked like. Maybe that's why I loved it so.

I went deeper, smelling the rich foliage, carrying my paints and easel. The woods were full of life, I felt it all around me, and the trees greeted me with their warmth.

Suddenly I was hit by a familiar scent, drifting along the breeze, washing over me. A woodsy smell unlike these woods, sweeter I suppose. I had smelled it before, perhaps, in a dream.

I quickly set up my easel and began to paint, almost unseeing. Everything escaped my vision at these times. I was swallowed up in the strokes of yellow, the flashes of green, seeing only the figure from my dreams.

When I had finished, the sun had come close to setting and I stepped back, admiring my artwork. My figure had a face, a face I didn't know I knew in my heart.

"You have captured him," a voice said, jolting me out of my thoughts of confusion. I spun towards the direction of the sound. An old man stepped out of the shadows, cloaked in white. He felt very old, and yet not old at all. The expression in his blue eyes was one of mirth, and it somehow calmed my rattled nerves. He smiled at my expression, and then turned his attention back to my painting. " You have him utterly Linwe, it is as if I am staring him in the face." He came closer, "you have changed my dear."

"I know you…" I marveled at his sudden familiarity, "but I don't know how. Who have I painted? To you he is someone, but to me, he is only a figure from my dreams."

" You will remember," He smiled again, gaining my trust.

"Will I?"

"He is your husband Linwe."

"My…my husband?" I blinked in shock, as my mind recalled this old figure.

"I am"-

"Gandalf the white," the words left my mouth before I knew them.

"That's quite right," it was his turn to be surprised.

"How? Why? I don't understand."

"Those are things I will allow the prince to explain to you, but now…we must return" The sparkle was back in his eyes.

"Return to where?"

"To Middle Earth, to Mirkwood, your home."

There was a flash, then a blinding white light…