Dark-wrought thoughts and midnight terrors catch me, toss me, hold me. I'm lost in a sea of starless night, waves thundering around me, my screams silent.
Just as suddenly, I leap into open air, and I fall, past the clouds, through the never-ending sky, twisting and writhing as I count the seconds till my doom, when the world will come crashing around me, when heaven meets earth and when I am finally, fatally reminded that nothing good on this world can stay.
Only I land without pain, without agony, and I don't know if I am alive or dead, but there is no pain, and it is bright. The grass is soft beneath my bare feet; my skirts make only the faintest noise as it swirls around my legs. A soft, sweet breeze - scented of roses, of grass, of life - brushes across my bared shoulders, twines through my hair, caresses my face like a lover. There are birds singing softly, musically, off in the distance, and the soft rustle of grass acts as a steady rhythm to which I could dance.
Off in the distance, by the mist-shrouded treeline, I see a figure, and in a dreamlike manner I know that this figure holds answers, and make to move towards it. With my first step I feel energy and life flood through me, so strong I cannot do anything but run. And run I do, feet barely touching the ground with the speed, and never feeling weary or out of breath. My eyes see only the figure, growing larger as I speed towards it.
I recognize the posture, the stance, the manner of movement, before I see the face, and I come to a halt. He is familiar, but puzzlement makes the smile on my face falter.
Another step forward, and then he looks up, and I meet his eyes and recognition sends my mind to a jarring halt. Before I know it I'm in his arms, weeping with joy and wonder, unknowing if this is real, knowing it cannot be, and yet soaking in every moment.
My father wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, whispering quietly in my ear, telling me that he loves me, that he's so proud of me, that he's sorry he couldn't be there to help me as I grew into the woman I've become.
I shake my head, tears turning sorrowful, struggling to push away, because he doesn't know what I've done, who I'm with, what I've become. He sees only what he wants to see, doesn't know the flaws, doesn't understand what the rest of my family seems to see so clearly. I want to tell him, because I can't live in the lie of his love, love which should be conditional if it's to make any sense. He can't go into it blinded.
He puts his hand under my chin, and I hesitantly meet his green-eyed gaze. He only whispers two words. "I know." There is sorrow there, grief shared, pain understood. But there is love, too. Love and pride so great that I have to turn my head in awe.
Gently he takes me by the hand, tugs me along the line of the forest. My head is cast down, but I walk as close to him as possible, trying to memorize the manner of his step, the scent of his clothes, the feel of his warmth. My father. My father. I feel as if I'm five again, and at the same time, I feel my age, and yet again older. I feel wise and foolish at the same time. We stop.
"Rachel," he tells me in his rich tenor, "my daughter. Look up."
I do so. And the first thing I see is another man standing not five feet away from me. My heart jumps. A face I know well. I need the gentle nudge from my father to get me to start moving, but once I take that first step I'm running, and I can't run fast enough, and he's moving to me at the same speed, and I can feel the joy written in his body as strongly as I can feel the joy in my own.
Charles spins me around, and for a dizzy moment all I can do is cling to him, but it's alright, because I know he won't let me fall. We hold each other for a long time, wonderment and happiness as strong and pleasantly warm as the sun caressing us. After the passing of decades we both turn to face my father.
The moments it takes to turn remind me of every fear and every bit of hesitancy I've felt in facing anyone I know with Charles at my side. Dark thoughts seem so out of place in this sunny world, but I can think no other, for being hurt too many times makes it difficult to trust. Father walks forward, and I cannot tell what he is thinking.
He stops a few feet from us, Charles with his arms wrapped around my waist. I can feel him tensing behind me, ready to defend, to step in and be my shield from what we've both come to expect. Retribution. Scorn. Hatred. Father observes this, and I know he can see the readiness, can see my bone-deep desire to protect the one I love. And I know he knows how much it would hurt to have him rebuke me for my choice. A sudden cool drop on my chest makes me look down for a brief instant. I see the cross necklace, glittering in the sunlight. And I meet my father's eyes when I look up again, but this time I can feel the strength that I have felt so often before, strength that makes me feel like hammered steel, flexible but unwavering.
"You are welcome to me, Charles." The formal words cross my father's lips, and a moment later he smiles warmly. Disbelief and shock radiate from both of us, but wonder soon takes my breath away. Acceptance.
And then I understand. For here there are no ages, are no scars of the flesh. We are refined forms of ourselves; those darkened would be moreso, those bright multiplied until diamonds. Here there is only what is in the heart and the soul brought to the surface. Here is where Charles and I meet, here is where we see, here is where all lovers see. It is the playing field of love, and it is a place untarnished by the darkness of the world.
The dream fades, but the thoughts remain. And so they shall be.
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