Lucid Dreaming

A Story by papermush08

A Twin flame phenomena short story inspired by a dream.

“Her Soul and his Soul both go to this one place-a frequent rendezvous the earth can’t watch and even they can’t touch…”

-The Universe at Heartbeat, 2016

“Lucid Dreaming”

A Short Story

by Nicola An

Not quite a long moment ago, it was like all the heaviest things in the world were heaping on my chest, and my head-"while it’s cozily tucked between my favorite pillows-"was brutally throbbing because of my uncontrollable sobbing, with an effort not to be heard, the worst and most painful silence I must say because it’s filled of a trapped cacophony. But…

But then here comes the-" I don’t know the fitting word to describe it-"it feels so far removed from the world, and by world, I mean the day-to-day anxiety and crisis. This silence right now is the kind that is like the ending part of the fading out of a good mellow song, but longer, or the soothing part between inhaling and exhaling, but again longer.

I don’t understand, I can see lucidly but it’s like I’m just seeing through my mind. Am I dead? Is this heaven? And oh, I’m confident that I deserve heaven when I am not sure sometimes if I believe in its existence. Anyway, whatever’s real or not, I am sure this right now is. I swear I won’t be shocked if I ever cross paths here with an angel, a fae or some enchantress, and most of all, I don’t mind staying here at all. Even if it’s a solitary sojourn in an unfamiliar nowhere, I have this odd certainty that I’ve always been here.

“Yes, you have, you’re probably remembering now because you’re dying to feel better before you made it here…again” Am I talking to myself? Now I’m all the more perplexed, startled but not frightened when someone else had responded, yet the sound seemed to come from me too.

“Remembering?” I dare ask.

“Like when you’re little, and now as an adult you can’t tell if those are your memories, or memories of some dreams of yours as a child...” Again, I seem to be conversing alone but what sort of conundrum am I babbling about?

“Am I actually talking to myself like a lost, mad vagrant?” I panicked, a bit, I hope.

“Yes, we are talking, though I know it would put you at ease if I’m someone you can see separately. I mean, generally, people would rather want to be with company, would always need someone else’s words more than their own. That’s basically why they fail to be there for themselves.”

I can’t argue against the voice. Actually, I can’t be against anything at the moment, so I choose not to say another word, just waiting for the next peculiarity to transpire. All of a sudden, going fast forward, time seems to significantly skip and there’s a play of magnificent light, encompassing and I’m drifting in an abstract fashion. This is kindness to my heart, like the inexplicable bliss washing over me when I spend hours and hours painting.

“Are you alright?” the voice talks again, and although it’s echoing from me, it’s also reverberating from someone who appears beside me in a blink of an eye, a diaphanous masculine figure with a presence that is so gloriously poignant. Is he an angel? But he also feels like an otherworldly friend, a lover, a brother. I am not completely sure about what or who he is but he’s the safest I could ever feel. I wonder if he’s a figment of my hopeless romantic imagination. He’s strange but just like this place, he doesn’t feel new or overwhelming.

Time skips again along with a shaking montage of movie-like scenes, I feel even more far away, I am screaming, soundless and I can’t move, breathless and helpless for a few seconds until I gasp and wake up. I find myself running towards our backyard, and I’m welcomed by someone giving me a bouquet of perfectly blue hydrangeas, I am beyond words to receive such beauty. I look up to the same diaphanous masculine figure, he seems to be smiling even if he’s a complete haze. I can’t help questioning the gift though.

“Why blue? Are you sad? Or is it because I’m the saddest person on earth?”

“Does one thing always have just one meaning? Free your mind.”

“I apologize, I sometimes forget that as an artist, I should be more open to all interpretations.” I laugh coyly. “Thank you anyway, I think I’ll always remember these flowers with a huge smile on my face.”

“You can always think of me, in fact, I’m always around. You’re never out of my sight.”

“But why can’t I see you clearly? It’s almost like… you’re not made of flesh but you’re so real… I could really use a hug now, you know? But I can’t even touch you.”

“What would you need a hug for?”

“I am not feeling my best self, really. Aren’t you a guardian angel sent to comfort me?”

“Doesn’t my presence give you enough comfort?... You don’t really need something to hold on to forever to constantly feel good, but you can always bring this very present moment with you to remember. Like I said, I’m always around.” His voice is the softest to ever embrace my heart.

“Why are you here really?”

“I’m always here, you just don’t see me because you’re often not loving yourself.”

“I’m sorry, truth it, I know what I’m capable of. It’s just that I can’t help feeling as a loser because I can’t find doors for me to open. My life doesn’t feel like it’s making any sense when I keep doing something that will eventually become pointless. It’s exhausting staying as a struggling artist.”

“You deem yourself a failure because you think nobody else appreciates your art?”

“I do have a great friend who supports me but of course, it’s a lot different when some people I don’t know will do too. I mean, is that too much to ask?”

“It took you so long before coming back here, but here you are now recognizing us. Just because you’re not arriving at the time you expect, doesn’t mean you’re left behind and stuck waiting for nothing. And sometimes, it takes a heart being broken before seeking solace, right? Like you breaking apart before finding your way here. I tell you what, someone out there may find that solace in your creation too, in who you are.”

“Why do you believe in me?”

“I just…do.”

“Seriously, why?”

“Why do humans always want reasons for everything before believing?”

“Wait, so, you’re not human at all?”

“Let’s say, we are beyond what humans can comprehend…or what they refuse to understand.”

“I think I love you, though I cannot see you well, nor know your name.”

“Stay that way, okay? Love yourself beyond what you see or know about yourself.”

And then I feel like crying, the good kind like I’m being born again, and without a second thought I ask him “Do you love me too?”

“You just said it…” He answers reassuringly.

I can hear the familiar chirping now at the crack of dawn, but my body is paralyzed, I can no longer tell where I truly am but I can still hear him talking to me, I know I’m about to be awake again.

“Please remember that I always love you and I am never gone or away, I am both in your trying moments and victories, but mostly I am alive in all the best things in you and for you. Now that you’ve come to me, I will be more present, think of me as your lover, not necessarily, romantically yours. Just yours and all of you, that when the physical world feels heavy again, I am that place where your love for yourself is never out of place…”

I want you to keep loving yourself unconditionally-"I hear myself say but the last ebbing sound of his voice seems to merge with mine.

When I fully awaken, I realize I’m hugging myself as a tear kisses my cheek.

_____________

That’s how I can vividly recall everything, like I want it to be my every moment, and what I find so bizarre and intriguing is that I remember every word that he said as if I said it myself. I have no idea who he was or he is but I know that he’s in me now, like a hidden treasure, and as much as I find it hard to believe in heaven’s existence sometimes, meeting him is the closest I have to experiencing heaven.

I go on wondering if I ever see him in person, if there’s an actual human version of him I might end up with, a special someone made for me, but ironically I also cling to what he said that I don’t really need something to hold on to forever to constantly feel good, and he’s giving me the assurance that he’s always around. Maybe he’s a guardian angel, maybe I should believe now that heaven is real, that heaven is experiencing Love miraculously without questioning it.

I gaze up at the clear sky and all I can think about are the flowers he gave me. I am both happy and sad, disturbed and comforted as I pick up my pace, deciding to go to my best friend’s café on autopilot, a habit whenever I am mentally and emotionally inundated.

When I approach, there are about four customers and another one at the counter area chatting with my best friend. My best friend is exhilarated as she introduces me to the woman she’s chatting to. “Hey, flower lady, she wants to talk to you about you art. She loves it.” My best friend winks at me.

The woman happens to see my painting piece mounted on the feature wall of the café, it’s a painting of assorted garden flowers I gave to my best friend as a birthday gift, she’s not much of a flower lady like me but it’s always her pleasure to support me. But wait, someone else finally appreciates my work? I literally pinch myself in the arm to check my reality. I awkwardly give my thanks, a little teary-eyed as I am both delighted and reminded of my dream, about what my spectral lover and I had talked about my art.

“The thing is, my mother and I came here, I think thrice already…” the woman plaintively informs. “And every time, she’d mention how beautiful this painting is…she’s all that I had in my life and now that she’s gone, I try to surround myself with a lot of things about her, she used to tell me stories about the garden she had when she’s still in her youth, her core memory perhaps, I guess that’s why she loved your painting… I couldn’t keep a garden like she did, let alone make time to remember buying flowers because of my job, but I miss her everyday and I thought, maybe I could find the artist of this painting she admires…so dear, here you are…” She gleefully said despite her grief.

I’m at a loss for words.

“I’d like to commission you to paint me a bigger piece, something that will grace the wall of my bedroom, but it’s gonna be her favorite flower so she’ll be happier.”

My heart couldn’t understand what feeling I should feel first, but I manage to compose myself and I ask a question with anticipation “What flower do you need me to paint ma’am?”

“Oh, it’s the uh…blue hydrangeas... yes specifically blue hydrangeas, she said that they look so heavenly.”

“…it takes a heart being broken before seeking solace…someone out there may find that solace in your creation too…” I almost faint, I’m like back to having an out-of-body experience. I am not sure whether I cry for the great news of a granted opportunity, or for the possibility that his presence isn’t just existing in my dream and that he’s true to his words that he’s mostly alive in all the best things in me and for me. I understand now that I don’t need something physical to hold on to forever to constantly feel good, it’s just the knowing even without fully understanding. Maybe like faith in God, even without complete sight, this is how I will go on. I guess this Love beyond reasoning is heaven that I deserve.