Dreams are answers to questions
we haven't yet figured out how to ask.
-X-Files
...Arty's Story...
I opened my eyes and hastily cupped a hand over my mouth, holding back the wretch my stomach wanted to give. Twice in as many hours I had been unconscious and woken, not in my comfy, warm bed but on the hard, unforgiving ground. And I was getting annoyed about it.
Though technically, I wasn't on the ground. I was sort of...floating. Yes, floating, that was the right word for it. I was lying down and yet wasn't as well. How peculiar. I glanced around and mentally gave myself a smack. Of course, I was in water! Stupid person. I smiled and flipped onto my stomach, propelling myself forward through the crystal water. It was pleasantly warm and incredibly clear and completely deserted.
I turned around and began to swim in a random direction, panicking slightly as I glanced around me to see where on earth I was. Or under sea I was, if you want to be technically correct. I was so busy panicking that I didn't see the end of the water, though that really wasn't my fault. I mean, who seriously expects me, Me! who is hardly the most observant person in the world, to see straight through completely clear water and realise that the completely clear glass bowl I was in signalled the end of the see through water and the start of see through glass? It wasn't like there was anything after the glass either - just whiteness. The same colour as the kitchen was painted at the cottage back home. Just white, but somewhat grubby.
So it totally wasn't my fault. Not that my skull, which was still throbbing from the impact on the glass, seemed to agree. But the pain reverberating around my head was nothing to the shock of seeing a suspicious figure suddenly looming up through the grubby whiteness of 'outside'. It came closer and now I could see that 'It' was in fact a 'He', an older human 'He', with overlong brown hair and brown eyes, just like mine. He was skinny too, and overly tall and could tell that he probably spent a lot of time knocking things over and walking into walls.
Just like me.
"Dad?" I whispered, but all that came out was bubbles.
He smiled at me and rested his hand against the glass. I reached up and placed my hand on his, through the sheet of glass. It was cold and smooth under my fingertips and I pretended it was his skin I could feel. He smiled at me and said something but I couldn't hear what.
How long we stayed that way, Hands pressed against the glass, I don't know, but it seemed a really long time. And yet, it was too short too. I'd never met my father but my mother always said that I was his daughter in every way and I could see that it was true. His eyes were identical to mine, the same size, the same shape, the same colour. He had the same slightly uncontrollable hair, those his was streaked with grey and it flopped over his forehead just like mine did. He even had my knobbly knees and sticky-out elbows.
Tears were rolling down my face, even as the water around me merged with them, mixing pure water with salt. Tears were streaming down his cheeks too, tears of joy or tears of sadness, I didn't know. He was speaking again, but the glass stopped all sound. He tried again and I strained to hear. His lips formed the words but I heard nothing. Now, I was crying harder, tears of frustration and I banged my fists against the glass. He smiled sadly at me and shook his head.
'I love you Artemis,' I saw him mouth and then he was turning away, sliding his hand from the glass.
"DAD!" I screamed, though no sound left my mouth. "Don't go..." I whispered. He paused and turned back to me one last time, as though he had heard.
In his face there was something I didn't understand, there was great sadness there, but another, almost stronger emotion too. Almost happiness and yet not happiness, a world-weary pain and such a wild joy.
"I'll always be here." His words drifted over me like the current, soft and unearthly. He touched his chest, just over his heart and he smiled one last time.
Then he was gone, vanishing into the whiteness leaving me alone.
And, for the first time, the water didn't sooth me. It didn't clear my mind, help me forget... I curled up, resting on the bottom of the bowl and wrapping my arms around me. I cried until I could cry no more and then I lay there feeling my stomach clench, my heart squeeze. I could stay here. I could stay and live with the strange joy and the terrible sadness wracking my body, stay and hope...hope that someday I'd see him again. But I would see my father again, someday, when my time came.
So, for now, I pushed off from the bottom of the bowl and began to swim towards the surface, a strange peace helping me rise.