The Perfect Solution
An Alternate Universe – Phantom of the Opera Story
Nyasia A. Maire
© 2007
DISCLAIMER: I do not hold the rights nor did I create any characters found in The Phantom of the Opera or Phantom, nor have I received monetary compensation for writing this story.
The Dream
Dear love, for nothing less than thee
would I have broke this happy dream;
it was a theme.
For reason, much too strong for fantasy.
Therefore thou waked'st me wisely; yet
my dream thou broke'st not, but continued'st it.
Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice
To make dreams truths and fables histories;
Enter these arms, for since thou thought'st it best
Not to dream all my dream, let's act the rest.
As lightning, or a taper's light,
Thine eyes, and not thy noise, waked me;
Yet I thought thee—
For thou love'st truth—an angel, at first sight;
But when I saw thou saw'st my heart,
And knew'st my thoughts beyond an angel's art,
When thou knew'st what I dreamt, when thou knew'st when
Excess of joy would wake me, and cam'st then,
I must confess it could not choose but be
Profane to think thee anything but thee.
Coming and staying show'd thee thee,
But rising makes me doubt that now
Thou art not thou.
That Love is weak where Fear's as strong as he;
'Tis not all spirit pure and brave
if mixture it of Fear, Shame, Honour have.
Perchance as torches, which must ready be,
Men light and put out, so thou deal'st with me.
Thou cam'st to kindle, go'st to come: then I
will dream that hope again, but else would die.
John Donne 1573–1631
Chapter Seventeen – To Make Dreams Truth
Slowly, so as not to startle her, Erik lifted his hand to her face and brushed away an errant lock of curls. She surprised him by not drawing away, but leaning into his touch. Drawing her close to his breast, he lowered his lips to hers and bestowed upon her a kiss full of promise for all of their tomorrows.
It seemed to the couple that the afternoon had started only moments ago, but as the lowering sun began to shine into their eyes, no longer shielded from them by the trees overhead, they knew it was time to pack up their basket and leave their private retreat of the afternoon. As Christine moved about, the sparkle of the diamonds on her finger caused her eyes to return continually to the ring she now wore upon her finger. Each time her eyes glanced upon her ring, she smiled and sighed. Caught between elation and guilt.
"How is it that I should come to know such happiness? Surely, I must be dreaming."
As if to dispute her silent doubt, Erik placed his arm around her waist and drew her into a warm embrace.
"I shall never tire of holding you thusly, my dear. Never did I imagine I would find love and be loved in return.¹ You make me feel like spouting poetry and sonnets. I feel capricious and lighthearted. These are feelings I never expected to use in describing myself. With you by my side, I can ignore the scornful eyes of the rest of the world."
He drew back then lifted her up and spun her about him, laughing. She found his joy contagious and soon found she could not help but laugh along with him. After a moment, he lowered her to the ground and rested his forehead upon hers.
"How is it, my love, that you look upon me and see a man when the rest of the world only sees a monster?"
Surprised by the sudden seriousness of his words, she looked up into his face. He saw only confusion in her eyes and he sighed wistfully.
"Even now, my dearest, you do not understand, but you will. I wish it were not so, but you will. When we encounter crowds, you shall know firsthand the evil that men do.²"
"Erik, I do not understand you. Why would anyone think you a monster?"
She paused.
"Do you say these things because of your face?"
He nodded and she shook her head.
"Well then, do not feel too badly. People always fear that which is different or that which they do not understand. If they fear you, they fear the difference in the form of your face, not in the substance of the man who wears it. They fear me because they do not understand me. We are as alike as peas in a pod. You wear your difference on the outside and I wear mine on the inside. Perhaps, together we shall heal one another."
Her voice softened.
"I often wonder … how my life would be different … if, well, I just wonder."
"Christine, what is it that you wonder?" He placed his index finger under her chin and lifted her face. "Please? I wish to know everything there is to know about you. If we are to heal each other's hurts, we must not keep secrets." He smiled sweetly to soften his words.
She sighed and nodded. Pausing for a moment, Erik could see that she held some kind of internal debate before she sighed once more.
"Yes, too many secrets solve nothing. Very well, I will tell you ... I often wonder how different my life would be if my Papa had not died. There is something else. Something stranger. Something that I have never told a single soul … not even my Papa …."
"Wait! Do you mean that you have kept this thing you mean to tell me a secret for more than 12 years?"
"Well, longer than that actually. This is something that has been with me as long as I can remember. I have the same dreams over and over and over again. Would you like to hear about them?"
"Absolutely, my dear. Please continue, but we must return to the carriage for the sunlight is failing. I do not wish to incur Madame's wrath by keeping you longer than I promised."
Christine smiled at his words and nodded. He extended his arm to her and she happily entwined hers with his. The pair began to retrace their steps back to the carriage.
"Well, they are not frightening dreams. Rather, I have always found and taken comfort from them. There are several different variations. The one I find most comforting is the one where I am sitting in a small, black boat. The boat is in the dark, yet it is not night, nor is it completely without light. The surface of the water has a veil of thin mist covering it and just as I begin to wonder how I can see the mist, I notice that there are candles and torches ahead in the distance. The boat is moving steadily towards the light, yet I am not rowing the boat. I feel an overwhelming curiosity as to how the boat is moving and turn to look behind me. There is a tall man standing on a platform on the stern, holding a black pole. He looks down at me and I can see his mouth smiling at me. A black mask covers the rest of his face from my sight. He speaks to me softly, yet commandingly. He tells me to sing. It is the sound of his echoing voice, which causes me to notice we are in a cavern. I turn and straighten my posture as best I can, after all singing while sitting is not proper form but then I cannot deny the man's voice. I begin to sing. There are no words to my song; it is almost as if I am performing strange warm-up scales. My voice soars higher and ever higher as the man continues to urge me to sing. Just as we reach the shore of the lake, I sing the highest note I have ever sung and the purity of the sound stuns me into silence. The man says no words of praise to me, but I can feel his silent approval of my voice and it fills my heart with happiness that I have pleased him. Then, as can only happen in dreams, the scene suddenly shifts and I am standing next to a beautiful, black grand piano. The same man sits upon the bench playing Elissa's aria from the third act of "Hannibal." Do you know the one? The name of the aria is "Think of Me." I can feel myself singing only for this man and yet, I can never see his face. I know him and, yet, I do not. I have always thought he was my Angel of Music, but now …."
She stopped speaking and looked away from Erik. He turned and saw the edge of her cheek colored scarlet with embarrassment.
"My God! She has dreams of caverns and boats! She dreams of a man in a mask! I dream of a woman singing for me and then leaving me. Could it be her? Will she leave me for another? Please God in Heaven, do not let it be! I love her!"
Erik hesitated a moment before succumbing to his desire to know. He hesitantly whispered and felt an awkward surprise at the raspy sound of his voice.
"What is it that you think now, my dear? Who is the man in the mask?"
"I think he is you, Erik. He has always been you."
¹ "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." – "Nature Boy" – Words and Music by Eden Ahbez, 1948
² "The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones." William Shakespeare