The door to his heart

She walked into dreams unannounced.

Sometimes, she just sat quietly. Watching the walker. That’s how she called them.
Sometimes she would guide. Lightly. Gently. They never saw her. They never knew she was there when following her subtle touch, when taking that liberating leap off a cliff...and flying.

She also opened doors. Those doors they faced startled when finding themselves in some unrecognizable hallway in a place they grew up in, and thinking to had known that entire place like a back of their hand. It was her world after all. And it was their dream. She could calm their thoughts. She could sense their conflicts. She could see their struggles trying to come to terms with everything they faced in their world before entering hers.

She would walk them through a morning forest, filled with a tingling silence of dense branches covered with crystals of dew.
She would show them the sea cove neatly tucked into the purity of white sand right under the shadow of a sea cliff.
She always knew what they were looking for. She found it amusing they never did. Walkers never knew what could bring them that peace of mind they all wanted so much.

There were also the darkers. That's how she called them. Their long shapeless shadows creeping from the crevices between the dreams. Sensing the fear. Feeding off the desperation. Catching a walker at times, holding him down, skies changing to bloody purple, before falling into the starless darkness. The skies of her world. The world of the walker's dream. She fought for each of them. Tearing away from the shady tentacles. Breaking the doors open. Shoving the walker out for some rough awakening. A nightmare, as they called it.

One time she called for a rain. She felt it was the right thing needed for that walker. Too many doubts. Too much cloudiness. There were taking a stroll through some old park filled with spring senses and his memories. Faces. Feelings. Colors. Sounds. There were no smells. A walker loses all smells when stepping over her threshold. He was right besides her. Living his day in her world. First heavy drops started to fall marking the dark spots on a dusty path. The rain was quickly gaining its strength making shapes, and figures, and colors smudge as all were running for cover. He started running too. She felt he was always running from something. Running from the rain. Running from his life. There were under the crooked branches of an old oak tree, she so meticulously recreated from the glimpses of his consciousness. A shade. A protection. A sense of stability.

It happened then. There was a touch.  A definite sense of a touch.  An unmistakable connection of two minds expressed in the most simplistic form - his hand gently laying on her shoulder.

She froze.

She knew he was looking at her. She knew it was impossible.
Nevertheless, her walker stretched his hand and touched her shoulder. She felt the warmth. She felt his heart resonating through the pulse of the rain. She turned. Their eyes met. She never look at her walkers before. Not that close. She never felt their warmth. She felt their emotions of course, the ways of their feelings needing her guidance. She never felt those emotions directed at her. And that's when she realized she never FELT. Not really. Not as this burning sensation striking through her soul like a lightning in the storm she just created.

He stepped closer. Now so close, she could sense the excitement, the emotional stirring, and his genuine surprise in meeting someone here, under his tree, in the place he always believed to belong to him, and to him only. She felt something else. A connection so strong it seemed they had met before, ages ago, or just yesterday, or will definitely meet again, in this place she always believed to belong to her, and to her only, or maybe that was the place she saw reflected in his eyes, some place from his past lives, or his dreams. She could no longer tell the difference. Nor could she restrain the breaking skies, falling heavily through the leaves now.

They didn't seem to notice. His fingers brushed her cheek, running through the wet hair. She closed her eyes. She felt the gentle pull on her lower lip, the kiss on the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her neck. Their lips touched, passionately, fervently, affectionately. She felt her balance wavering. Blinding flashes striking. She was ready to let go. To loose her control in the embrace of his passion. A walker lost in a dream wonders there forever, she was taught. No, not him. Not because of her.

She opened her eyes. But that's impossible, ran through her mind, seeding a grain of doubt into her clouded vision. But then,
everything happened so far she never thought could be possible either. She broke the door open pushing him out.

He woke suddenly. Head spinning. Cold sweat breaking like the drops of rain. The rain. It was raining hard. Hitting the window with a desperation of a lost stranger looking for a safe place to hide from the cold of the night.
He got up.
He looked out into that night. Raging. Forceful. Lightning opening bright glimpses through the darkness as if looking for something, or someone. But for some reason he felt calm. He felt safe. It happened then.

There was a touch.  A definite sense of a touch. 

He turned...