I opened my eyes to a dark bedroom. Heavy curtains covered the windows like the wood covered the walls. They were almost successful on keeping all the light outside but for one small crack in the dark where the sun crawled in. It smelled weirdly sterile for a house as old as this seems to be with the dust dancing in the small spot of sunlight. Nothing about this room seemed antiseptic. I sat on the side of the bed I was previously lying on and it was painfully slow. Still it didn't feel like I moved my body at all. I still felt the pressure of the mattress on my back. It was at this moment that I recognized this was a dream. A very lively one for sure but still a dream. I smiled. My feet touched the floor and I was positively surprised that my foot didn't hurt. Nothing hurt. I couldn't wait to see what this house would look like. I merely always dreamed of this one room of our future home. Strange that it was always the same dream, almost like Mariah's dreams. If it is always the same dream then it's not just a dream, she used to say. At least that's what she believed in.
I didn't realize I walked across the room before I reached the door. The possible future lies beyond it and I wanted to take a glimpse so badly. I wanted to see what the colours of our future would be, what pictures would hang on the wall, I wanted to see where we would live, what the outside was like. I chose to ignore the fact that in my last dream Patrick had told me that he didn't want me. It was just once. So it's not true.
Somehow I knew the rules of this reality. The curtains couldn't be opened. So I didn't. Instead I opened the door to a brighter empty corridor and I walked down the stairs slowly as I reached the only picture that hung on the walls so far. One faded picture of Danny in front of a Ferris wheel. It once had brighter colours with more life in them but it seemed like that life was long lost. I continued my way downstairs with my fingers on the handrail, feeling every small bump until the downstairs area opened up beneath the first floor walls. It was one big open room. Couches scattered to the right. Big shelves full of books covering the walls. To the left an area that I couldn't really see. I also didn't want to. Because there was the entrance door. A blank door to the outside and I went straight towards it. My hand already on the doorknob when I realized it was slippery. I winced as if little needle pricks stung my fingertips and pulled the hand back. There was red all over it where I had touched the doorknob. It was a special kind of red. Deep and shiny. Almost warm. The more I tried to rub it off, the more it seemed to spread, never really losing its shine. I shivered even before things changed. The curtains I didn't realize were closed before, now let all the sunlight from the outside in, blinding the eyes from looking at the world beyond, but never hurting. Nothing here hurt. I heard shuffling behind me. Turning around I didn't see anything different. Just the kitchen, too new for the rest of the old house. Like from another time. Something fell. I knew I heard it fall and hit the ground but I couldn't see it. Like it didn't want to be seen. Suddenly I felt something caress my hand and when I looked at it, the red was gone, only leaving my sweat behind. I ignored my frantically beating heart to look up the stairs. The door to the bedroom was closed, other doors barely existed. Nothing had changed.
My heart pounded as I turned around again.
"You visit me again.", a somehow familiar voice said. Familiar but different. And I really had to concentrate to see where it came from. When I looked hard enough, I saw him lying on one of the couches or sitting on the kitchen table or slouching on a not so comfortable looking chair. It was Patrick but older. Familiar but not really.
"You don't have to imagine me. I'm right here.", he said again now standing right next to me, comfortably uncomfortably close, looking at where the other images of him had been. "Although you did a very good job. They all looked almost like me."
I stared at him. He had small creases on his forehead and around his eyes. The creases that in reality only appear when he smiles. Although his eyes are the same, he seemed to have change a lot. The Patrick I knew would never wear a suit, but he already has his hands in his pockets whenever possible.
"Am I not imagining you, too?" I ask, looking at the empty room, hoping to see what he sees.
"How old do you think I am?" He doesn't look at me. "Maybe 40ish? We will see if I look like this when I really am. It wouldn't be that bad at least. You imagined me very good-looking."
I chuckled while all he did was smile to himself.
"Do you know what I will look like when I'm older?" My question was shyly spoken because if this Patrick is anything like mine, he would see through my attempt to lure some information out of him.
He turned to me and explored my face with his eyes. Not giving away anything. Patrick will obviously get better at that too. "Well you have always been the prettiest girl with your small freckles and bold probably won't change once you're a woman."
I frowned, not really content with his answer.
"You know what also won't change? You trying to trick me into saying things I actually wanted to keep from you. You will also get better at that. But I guess that's what you needed to do with someone like me." Shame clouded my brain for a short time until it was chased away by his following smile. He walked towards the couches and sat down. I followed.
After a long time of silence while he only smiled at me, I finally said: "I have so many questions."
"And I can answer none of them." He stretched his arms and laid them to rest on his lap again.
"Why are you here then?" Normally I would get annoyed but this time I was too intrigued to be anything but that.
"You summoned me here. I know why, actually, but I won't do any of that. That's what the other one is for. You should explore together, not cheating like this." His grin made me blush. And suddenly the reality of what I was doing hit me. I was not talking to him, only to a subconscious thought. Nothing was real. That's when his face went blank and he stared at something behind me, further down in the kitchen. Something shattered and the shock of it made me jump to my feet. Nothing was there, but this Patrick didn't stop staring.
"What are you staring at?" My voice was noticeably shaking. He didn't answer. His eyes tearing up.
"Patrick, what are you looking at?" I couldn't slow my rapid breathing. If anything was normal here, I would run to the door but nothing was normal and I couldn't move.
"You know I must go!" His voice was angry now.
"I know. But why now?", I answered. He didn't react, angrily pacing the room.
"I have told you about this a month ago and only now you say I shouldn't do it? The moment I was going out the door. Are you serious?" He pauses as if he waited for an answer.
"Please, try to understand. This could be it. This could make me famous. We will never have to worry about anything again!" He grabbed and shook the air lightly like it were someone's shoulders. Silence. And he let out a sigh, shaking his head, letting go of whatever he thought he was holding.
"Patrick, you're creeping me out." I almost whispered and he didn't react.
"Don't be ridiculous. Nothing will happen and I need to do this. For us. - I want to do this."
He turned around and for a moment it seemed like he was looking at me but actually he was heading to the door, not granting me one glance. Out of his suit's inner pockets he pulled a single match. Something crashed again. He looked back at me, ignited the match out of nowhere and threw it in my direction. I couldn't move. The moment the match hit the ground, the whole room lit up and he was out the door.
For a moment I was scared to death, afraid to burn, afraid of pain.
Nothing is real, I murmured to myself over and over again, closing my eyes, trying to wake up. I felt the heat on my arms. Just a dream.
No one ever tells you how to wake up. If my future will be like this it could very well stay a dream please. Or I didn't want to know. Wake up.
I concentrated so much that it hurt, or was it the imaginary flames? Imaginary flames that smelled nothing like flames but all like disinfectant and I concentrated on that, on the real world.
I woke up.
With my eyes fluttering, there was light. Bright light reflected by faint yellow walls. No one else was here but me. Suddenly I was wide awake. Trying to sit up, feeling dizzy. A monitor beeping loudly. They couldn't have left me here alone, could they? Tears welled faster than my thoughts went on.
I didn't know our next destination. -
The show never stops. -
The travelling can't be delayed. -
How long have I been here sleeping? It was daytime already. They wouldn't leave me here, I tried to tell myself. Pictures of me trying to survive on my own flooded my mind. Trying to earn money with a normal job. I didn't know anything about normal life.
A nurse came rushing into my hospital room.
"Don't get up just now, dear. You've been unconscious for a while.", she said in a comforting tone but it only made me even more upset. I almost couldn't speak because of all the sobbing.
"Did they leave without me?"
"No, dear. Two handsome young men took turns watching over you while you slept. I'm sure they will be back soon. They would surely never leave you alone. I just shooed them away for a few hours so you could get some real rest." The nurse gently guided me to lie back down again and tapped on the monitor, instantly calming the beeping noise.
"How long have I been unconscious?"
"Not even a whole two days. Your accident was only the day before yesterday." Her smile seemed so nice that it was hard to be upset when she was talking. "You hit your head quite a bit. I will leave you a basin in case you feel nauseous."
"When can I go home?" I tried to dry my tears but they wouldn't stop.
"I don't know. It will take some time to get you back on your feet again, after what happened." The nurse turned and was out the door before I could ask how serious it was. I was alone again, left to watch the sun go down for hours.