She walks in beauty like the night with firelit eyes and a wandering mind her dreams she says are of cloudless skies, yet I know her dreams are mine. Her dreams of the world far beyond here where there is beauty beyond her raven tresses beyond her silken dresses beyond the colours and the words and anytyhing but this strange empathic acceptance of the feelings we both share. As I turn to look at her, only, I already was, my mind focuses in on hers and we laugh as we are ever twirling in this state where there are no bodies, there is no individual only us.

The words stick in my throat as I try to whisper sweet nothings in the fraction of consciousness that I perceive as her ear, yet I have no throat at the same time. The words don’t come to me, only the emotion that I wish to portray, but that is all I need; this place transcends the trivialities of physical displays. There is no need for a voice as long as you have a soul, a heart, emotion to drive you forwards and backwards through time. Time doesn’t even affect us. Our lives are occurring all at once, yet nothing changes, we just be, float in this colorful yet colorless void, this pocket in the path of time, this nothingness.

The world returns to normal, traffic passes us by, we stare longingly into each other’s eyes as the crowds separate us, knowing we will never see each other again. The mindless sheep drive me away from my one true love, the crowds thrive, they run around in circles chasing their tails trying to achieve their patriotic dreams, have the nuclear family. But the world is not the same, we need change, and that’s what we could have been. Her beauty shines through the dark void in my soul to awaken my long forgotten dreams, to kindle the fire in my soul, to set me on my path.

Time passes by, she is lost, ever distant. Will I ever see her again I wonder, will I ever feel that bliss, that ecstasy again? Or was it just a dream, another foul trick my mind has played on me, but it can’t be. It was too real, too passionate, too impossible to be a dream, I cry at night when I think of her. Time passes still and I remember her memories, I remember her childhood like it was my own. Or was it? I can’t even tell them apart anymore, day by day I lose more of my individuality I feel myself becoming a part of her, I can sense her. I can see what she sees. I can control her, and she can control me. We never speak, or acknowledge each other; we just co-exist, in a twisted sort of symbiosis. We avoid each other, yet without thinking about it. We complete each other’s tasks. She sent my mother flowers for her birthday. I picked up her dry cleaning, and dropped it off at her place. I had a key but I don’t know where it came from.

I haven’t looked in the mirror in weeks, I know I haven’t slept, yet I feel alert. I go up to her room and look into the mirror to find that I look just the same as always, yet different in some subtle way. She smiles back at me through the mirror, and then it’s all gone. I find myself back on the busy sidewalk, walking to nowhere in particular, yet in a hurry all the same. I wonder where I’m going, it must be important because I find myself in a business suit. Is it mine? I don’t remember, I don’t remember anything except that I’m in a hurry. An old woman drops her purse and two young kids run away with it. I know I should do something, but I’m in too much of a hurry, my body is steering itself, left than right, left, left, right. Where did this suit come from? It’s more than I could ever afford, yet it seems natural to be in it, to be in such a hurry. Should I question it? Should I just give in and go along? Do I have any control, no; I know that I am helpless to stop what fate is bringing me to.

Three men in black suits reach out to grab me, I don’t know who they are, I don’t know what they want with me, yet I act instinctively. I grab the arm of the first guy and dislocated his elbow in one smooth motion. The second comes at me, he swings at me, as if to hit me in the face. I duck, and punch him in the stomach, yet my fist hits nothing but air.

Suddenly they fade away, I am back on the crowded streets and people are staring. I wonder how I know all this. I’ve never fought before in my life, yet I felt as if I’d done it a thousand times before. Am I losing my mind? I begin walking again, I’m going to be late, but where am I going? It seems as if I have been walking forever. People passing me by, fake trees litter the sidewalks, an attempt to dissipate the gloom created by the tall looming office buildings. Built like jails they held us in 9-5. But that’s not important, I’m going to be late, but I’m almost there. But where am I going? Why? I still don’t understand it. Suddenly I slow down, and I know this is it. What is it? I begin to wonder why I’m here, but then I see her.

She is beautiful; she embodies all that’s best of light and dark, her eye’s twinkling in the fading sun. She sees me and she presses me against the wall, only its not a wall it’s the window front of a quiet little coffee shop full of old women. She presses me against the wall, and she kisses me, dark, and mysterious yet fulfilling in every possible way. I can do nothing but give in to her insistence and her passion. Then, she lets me up, I see her take her hand out of my coat pocket, empty. Then she walks away, she just walks out of my life again.

I can’t feel her anymore, the connect is gone, I am all alone again. I am crushed by the emptiness I am left with. I sink against the window-wall, and sit on the sidewalk. I sob, I don’t know how long I cried for, no one seemed to notice. It was as if I had become invisible, suddenly I feel an insatiable need to find a mirror, to make sure I that I’m still me. So I go into the coffee shop, I ask where the bathroom is, the young girl behind the counter snickers and shows me where it is. I walk in, there is a slight smell of disinfectant, a small window sheds broken light on the bare while walls. I look in the mirror, to find that I’m still myself, but again, there is that subtle difference that I can’t see. I begin to wonder. What is all this, why am I here, who is she. In all the time we co-existed I never understood who she was. I walk outside, thank the girl at the counter, and toss her a couple coins for helping me. I don’t know where the money came from it was just in my hand.

I walk down the street, I recognize this part of town, but I don’t think I’ve ever been here before; maybe it’s one of her memories. I walk down the street; the wind blows little flurries of leaves around me, the cold piercing wind of autumn. The sun is slowly disappearing behind all the buildings around me, storefronts glow a faded bronze. I put my hands in my pockets to warm them up, and I remember a fleeting glance of her hand leaving my pocket. I realize I am holding a piece of paper in my hand, I hold it up. It was written hastily on a piece of hotel paper, corners folded over, and ripped. I read it. It is an address, 1600 Hazel.

That is my own address, why should someone give me that. I begin to wander home, but I find myself not at my home, but hers. I don’t know how I got here, but I walk up the steps, and notice the numbers over the door. 1600. I turn around and a street sign down the road tells me I’m on Hazel. Then where is my home? I stand there and stare at the sign for what felt like hours. I can’t remember where my home is. Slowly I turn around, forcible drawing my eyes away from the sign.

I find the door open, and there is a man in the doorway. I am afraid, is this her husband, is he going to beat me up? Somehow I know that I don’t need to fear him, but I am still worried, why is this man here. I don’t remember him, from what I remember of either of our lives. He smiles and lets me in. He is not as menacing as I had first thought. He is average height, lean build, black hair and a suit. I find myself attracted to him, but not in a sexual way. He gestures for me to follow him down the hallway. So familiar and yet so different, did she paint it, something is different.

“We’ve been waiting for you”

My mind races, it’s a trap! What am I doing here, they’re going to kill me. What have I done to deserve this; I search our collective past and find nothing. She is not there, I don’t understand. I frantically search for an escape, but the man who led me in is blocking the only door. Finally, I admit defeat, and I look at the man who has spoken to me. He is old, very old, yet he seems so young at the same time. There is this aura of vitality around him. He wears a heavy golden robe, with red trim. He sits on a pillow of fine embroidered silk. There are other men in the room, but they don’t seem important.