Between Wake and Dreaming

"I remember being in this state of drifting between wake and dreaming. This went on for a while I imagine, but time didn't exactly feel 'existing'. I remember waking to stiffening darkness countless times and hearing his voice somewhere far, sometimes close and sometimes hers too. It carried over into these blizzard dreams of mine that didn't make any sense to me at the time. Dreams that would slip back into the dark soon after I tried to recall them. I do, however, remember the first time I opened my eyes and saw a light instead of the dark."

It's bright when I come to. So bright I hardly notice the environment and the warmth mixing with scents I can't distinguish, even after clarity reaches my eyes. Colors so vibrant, so strange yet so beautiful- and smells more sweet than bitter overcome my starved senses. And...there's strange-scary even, but curious all the same, sound playing in all directions. Numerous sounds, all unique and unusual, echo almost and I can't decide whether or not to flee or investigate. Then the memory of my mother hits me all over again. I can feel every ache and pain from coughing. Even my eyes are sore from crying too, but that's it. The memory is still too painful to confront but I can't ignore it either, and yet I don't react to it at all. I can't seem to at least. Immediately as I roll over I notice how different my body feels, and then I see my hands. Hands like that of the storytellers. Hands of my own I remember seeing back in his dreamscape.

"How are you feeling?" His voice carries strangely here, less strained than the last time I heard it, and even his appearance looks different somehow. Strange yet familiar all the same. His black hair is a lot shorter than I remember, and more brushed back rather than a feral mess. A few heavy curls barely touch his shoulders now, and his cloak is gone, replaced with odd black and white clothing. Maybe I'm dreaming again.

"I'm not sure," I eventually tell him and it's true. I can't say that I'm ok if I don't even know what it is that I'm feeling. It's like there's a hole inside me. It's not painful besides the aches, but it still doesn't settle quite right. I can't frown nor can I find a reason to smile. I'm just here, existing. I don't think a dream could make me feel this way, but I've never felt anything besides curiousness in my dreams. Even after seeing such strange creatures. But this, this feels wrong.

His eyes study me carefully as I attempt to stand on my own. My legs feel restless. Maybe I should start running. The earth beneath me feels soft and lively. It's short and weird in touch but feels nice between my toes. It's a feeling I can't really remember outside. Nothing was ever this soft on my paws and warm all at once. His troubled gaze eventually softens when I ask a question truly out of curiosity, if not worry from what happened before. Maybe to also help distract me from this...feeling.

"Is this another dreamscape?"

His lip twitches, "Yes."

"Is it safe here?"

"She won't bother you here. No one will unless you want them here," he explains, and a weight I didn't realize I had lifts as light as breathe.

I try to smile, I really do, but it doesn't take bloom. Instead, I glance everywhere else but his eyes, focusing on the plants that are richer in a color I faintly recognize. They remind me of the dreams I used to have when I was younger where I was walking through a forest that was alive and endless. Even there, though, I could not feel the ground like I do now. Reaching out a few fingers I brush them on the leaves dangling off a branch and gasp by their delicate yet lively touch.

"Is this the normal color for trees?" I breathe and look over my shoulder meet his eyes again.

He grins at that and nods.

I turn back around, exploring a little further feeling something familiar. Something good. I ask,"The other plants too?"

"Yes," he laughs softly, and I realize I've never heard him laugh or anyone besides the creatures in my dreams, but their laughter didn't sound as pleasant, "the color is normal. Green is the name for that color. Green means healthy, for plants anyway."

"Healthy..." I touch one of the trees, mesmerized suddenly by the soft green patches growing between the bark. It kind of felt like cub fur... "The bark is a lot lighter than the ones back home..." I withdrawal my hand quickly, suddenly shaking from the not-so-distant memory. I can still hear her screaming, such an unnatural sound chills me to the bone. And all that blood...I can smell it again just now. The smoke and the ash, the decay...

I feel his touch, warm and comforting, as he grasps my hand pulling me away from such nightmares, "Hey, nothing will hurt you here, as long as I breathe I promise you that. This place is whatever you make it to be. Watch," his gaze shifts towards the sky, and suddenly the forest surrounding us is gone along with the sunlight that shown through the trees. Another kind of light glows from above. Countless tiny moons flood the night sky as we stand together in a field without end. And the actual vibrant moon rests in the sky as one vast king amongst thousands of little moons. Even beyond the moons, I see splashes of colors and lights I've never seen in the dark before.

"Whoa...," I gasp, "so many moons. How many do you think are up there?"

He laughs again harder than the last. I tilt my head up at him, keen to ask why he was laughing at my question. He just shakes his head.

"You need a proper teacher, little cub."

"Will there be stories?"

"Perhaps," he smiles.

I play with my fingers shyly, unsure about myself in this body. I feel a little strange. An odd thought comes to mind making me wonder if staying in a place like this could actually be a good thing. Besides, what's left to go back to? Shyly I ask, "Can I stay here then? With you?"

"Always. This is a place only we will see, and only we will know. A safe place if you will."

I smile partway until I glance down at myself, remembering the dreamscape in the crystals. "And can I stay this way? Or can I become other things too or create stuff as you can here?"

"You can create here just as I can and become whatever you dream of or imagine. I'll teach you." Still holding my hand, he leads me towards a little structure I don't think the trees made naturally. Sunlight casts rays in our path as we walk. The field of moons and night disappears behind us as the rich green forest consumes it. Rocks of different sizes mark the path leading to the structure he explains is a house. Similar to that of a den but what he refers to as 'man-made' or in this case he made it.

"Do storytellers live in houses?"

I notice his lips part, ready to speak, but no words follow. Instead, he just shrugs. I push a little further and to my wonder, he confesses, "I've never really stayed in the same place for very long."

I tilt my head again curiously, "Why's that?"

"Never had a reason to." To that, he opens the door and motions me to step inside.

Warm colors and mouth-watering smells temp me surly, but I have to ask, "Is it bigger inside than it looks out here, just like the cave?" He smiles down at me before vanishing before my eyes. A sweet scent reminding me of a field of wildflowers from another dream engulfs me. The name whispers to me once more. Vesper flower.

His voice captures my attention from further inside the structure, feeding into my curiosity even more."Well, here we have no limits. What falls down can fall up if you wanted it to. The same goes for here in this house."

I tread inside, following his voice through colorful hallways until I find him in a cozy-looking room lit with fire on sticks, some shorter than others I think are called candles. I remember seeing them in one of my dreams. They rest on shelves stacked with vast objects, most standing upright in the same posture while others lay flat on top of one other. Then there are odd-looking shapes resting against the walls parallel to each other, that somewhat feel familiar too, but I can't seem to recall their name. I see him resting on one, all sprawled out on his back staring up at the ceiling.

"What are you laying on?" I ask and again he's smiling. I wonder why.

His eyes find me and he once again motions for me to step forward, "Come here little cub. Let me tell you a story."