Alice wakes suddenly with tears swelling up in her eyes.
I dreamt of him again.
For the past few days, she had been dreaming of a mysterious man. A hat maker with caring warm eyes and a shy smile. She had no idea who this being was. But every time she woke up she felt an agonizing sadness over realizing that he was, in fact, a dream.
She sighs, placing her head in her hands, shaking away the drowsiness. After a few moments, she reaches into her bedside table drawer and pulls out a small tattered notebook. She opens it on her lap, where a rough drawing of him lies, unfinished.
His eyes. There was something about them.
She begins to draw the man's eyes, careful to include every detail. She had noticed how the flecks of gold in his irises reflected the moonlight, especially when he smiled at her.
She pauses.
What's the point?
But she knew very well what the point was. She wanted to find him. And if she couldn't, she wanted to find a man that looked at her like he did.
She suddenly throws the sheets off herself and begins to tie her hair.
I need to go outside.
She begins to wander in her father's gardens, admiring the white roses. She suddenly has a strange thought.
Those roses should be red.
She stops at a willow tree at the very end of the path. Then, hiking her dress up to her knees, she carefully climbs until she can no longer be seen beneath the foliage. She perches herself between two branches and looks over into the vast garden. This is the spot where she can hide from the world, or sometimes try to enter the world in her dreams, the one where he lives.
Mother says I need a husband…In fact, I have to meet another suitor today. But I don't want them. I want him.
She chuckles to herself.
Oh yes, that would go very well with mother, having a husband that doesn't exist…
…But he is real. I know it.
Pensive, she looks down at her dirty nightclothes. Then she sees something past it, on the grass, a few feet from the tree trunk. A large hole is there. Surprised she hasn't seen it before, she jumps down from her perch and kneels on the grass. Placing her hands on each side of the hole, she leans in for a better look.
Imustbecrazy, she thinks, because, for a second, she catches what she thinks is a glimpse of a faint light in the depths of the never ending hole.
This just doesn't make sense.
Yet, she has a vague feeling of deja-vu. Leaning in even farther, she feels her grip slipping. She desperately tries to grab on to loose ends of grass, twigs, anything…
And then she falls. Headfirst, she feels herself slowing down, until she feels like a leaf, swaying in the wind. Softly, falling…