Dreams

Michael could never grasp the concept of sleep. Unconsciousness puzzled him; he had never truly experienced it. Nexia once told him that she both loved and loathed sleeping, but that just confused him further. It made her feel vulnerable, she had said, but it was too refreshing to not enjoy.

 

He liked to watch her sleeping form. He would kneel next to her feathery bed, and observe the pensive look engraved into her face. Some nights she would toss and turn and groan. On restless nights, he’d watch her eyes flick back and forth; this, she had explained, meant she was dreaming.

 

“Now dreams, I understand,” he said to her one day.

 

She simply smiled, shook her head, and mumbled, “Human dreams maybe, but not mine.” Michael didn’t know what she meant, but it fascinated him.

 

He had watched her thousands of times before, but this night was different. She was talking strangely, speaking in tongues, saying incoherent words. He hesitantly reached out to grasp her. He’d never woken her before, and he wasn’t sure what would happen. His palm connected with her silky shoulder blade. He was still for a moment before he decided to follow through.

 

“Nexia,” he said, as he shook her slightly. She didn’t wake. “Nexia,” he tried again, louder.

 

She rose quickly, breathing heavily. Michael stayed silent, as he waited for her to acknowledge him. Finally she calmed her breath, and tilted her head to the side in his direction.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked him, with an inquisitive look in her blue-speckled eyes. “Is everything all right?” she moved closer to him, and placed her right hand on his arm.

 

“You were behaving…unusually,” he said awkwardly.

 

She dropped her arm. “How so?”

 

Michael bit his lip, and locked his gaze to her bed sheets. “You were talking, but I couldn’t understand you. You sounded nervous. Afraid.”

 

“Oh,” was all Nexia said. A strained look came over her face, like she was trying to remember something. She stroked her cheek, while Michael waited for her to speak.

           

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for minutes, until Nexia finally spoke. “It was just a dream,” she said gruffly, as she climbed out of the bed. A dim sunlight filtered into the room through the window.

           

She walked across the cold stone floor, stopped at the end of the bed, and tightly grasped the mahogany post. “You shouldn’t worry about it,” she quietly told him.

Michael nodded his head and kept his eyes downcast. When he looked up Nexia was nowhere to be seen, and he was left alone in her small piece of heaven.