A Dream

Chase looked up from his screen and rubbed his eyes to adjust them to the sight of the dim room around him. He'd farther than he expected to today, which would hopefully make up for his complete lack of progress a few days ago. He often joked that making art for a living was like following the tides of the ocean. Some days the tide was high, others it was low; but today was a high, and he'd learned to ride the high waves when they came.

He stood up, feeling his back pop as the straightened his posture for the first time in a few hours. He reached down and picked up his water glass and placed it in the sink before filling it with soapy water and rinsing it out for fresh use the following afternoon. Chase rummaged through his fridge, coming away with a strawberry flavored yogurt and an apple.

He then traveled to his favorite lush, leather armchair and sunk into it. Chase used his feet to remove his socks and placed his feet upon the large, ornamental rug comprised of forest greens with long streaks of white and black stretching across it. His rug was perhaps his favorite decoration in his entire apartment. He'd bought it one winter when he was tired of suffering cold feet while in the living room, but wasn't prepared for how comfortable it really was.

The rug's previous owner had been a bit of a hippy, and was looking to sell the rug while he prepared to move into a new place. It had worked out well for Chase, as he'd gotten a large, comfortable rug for only $40, although he did have to air the thing out for a few days before the smell was gone. Still, he would often find himself fascinated with this rug, and run his toes through the fibers, merely enjoying the feel of the fabric. It was just such moments that made it worth having to vacuum the thing twice a week. No matter how often he tried to keep it clean, the rug seemed to supernaturally attract fibers and crumbs.

Moving his right foot over the rug yet again, Chase reached for the remote and absent-mindedly resuming a documentary he'd began the previous evening about jellyfish. He'd been both stunned and fascinated to discover that the underwater creatures were somewhat immortal, in so far as that they wouldn't die unless they were eaten by another fish or became diseased.

The voice on the television began to explain how, once having reproduced, the jellyfish actually reverted to a growth stage of sexual immaturity to begin their life cycle all over again. More listening than watching, Chase opened his yogurt and began to swirl the concoction around before he began to eat his dinner.

Once he finished his food, he tossed it into the trashcan in the corner of the room, bouncing the yogurt container off the wall as if it were a backboard to a basketball hoop. Smiling softly as his three-pointer landed, Chase reached under his chair and pulled out his sketch pad and a kit of different pencils that were used to draw. He began sketching a few drawings of jellyfish, enjoying the challenge that their amorphous bodies and tentacles provided for him. He had three rough sketches by the time the documentary wrapped up. Smiling as he examined them, he reached a conclusion that had hit him almost everytime he began a new project. Ever single one of the sketches he'd drawn were shit.

It didn't matter. He'd come back the next day and kick the drawings into gear, one way or another. His drawings, at least, always ended up working out if he dedicated enough time to them.

Peter stood from the chair, stretching and yawning as his back popped a few times, forcibly reminding him of his poor posture throughout the day. He pushed the disconcerting thought away and went to the kitchen, guided only by the light above the sink. He set the coffee maker for the following morning and looked down at his page-a-day calendar, embarrassed to realize he was five days late already.

He reached down sheepishly and removed pages until tomorrow's date, March 10th, showed on it. He looked down at the page displayed to read the words written on it. The calendar had been a gift from his long-time friend, Frank Lopez, for Christmas the past year.

Thinking about Frank made Chase pause involuntarily. He tried to remember the last time they'd spoken or messaged each other. Had it been two months now? He couldn't even remember when they'd hung out before this past Christmas. Once again the pull of time momentarily overwhelmed him, and Chase felt his eyes welling up.

Frank, along with Ryan and Chelsea were Chase's two best friends ever since high school.

They'd met in their sophomore year and quickly became close. For the next three years, they often spent most of their weeks together, often sleeping at one another's houses throughout the weekends. However, when college came along, things changed a bit. It didn't seem like a major thing at first. After all, they were in college now, and everyone who was serious focused on their studies. Chase had doubled down on his art while Frank worked on become a lawyer, and Chelsea began taking advanced chemistry and biology classes.

Their daily hangouts soon became one a week, then twice a month, then once a month… and then had come the wedding. Frank had told him about it a few months ago, and Chase still hadn't known how he was supposed to feel. Frank and Chelsea were good together, and he wanted them to be happy, but it didn't help the feeling that he was being cut out of a group that had virtually been a part of his identity.

Blinking and rubbing at his eyes slightly, Chase stripped, placing his hoodie on its hook before tossing his clothes into the laundry bin and turning on the shower. It was always a bit of a game getting the water to the right temperature. More than once, he'd made the mistake of merely turning both knobs to full and stepping in once the water had warmed up. That led to rapidly heating water and what felt like being boiled alive.

So instead, he had to turn both knobs to full before turning the heat down slightly and then altering the cold one based on the seasons, using less cold water in the winter and more in the summer or after a workout. After around two minutes, he stepped under the cascade of water, and felt the usual nostalgic tingle that came from stepping into the shower and reminding him of his childhood home, no matter where he was. Try as he might, he couldn't get the thought of Frank and Chelsea out of his head.

He'd been Frank's best man for the wedding, and despite making a detailed speech and congratulating them, he couldn't help but feel excluded and left behind by his best friends. That feeling had only gotten worse once they'd had their first child, Nichole, joined by Julia a couple years later.

The children had sent a pang through him that he hadn't expected to feel, and made the wedding seem a relatively small occasion. Somehow seeing that his friends were starting a life together and the life of two children changed things for him. It was another few years until Chase realized exactly what it was that bothered him.

It was that their new life had no place for him in it.

Frank still cared about him, and might be his best friend, but now Frank's life was centered around Chelsea and his two young girls. Chase just didn't fit into that. He wasn't mad at Frank, or frustrated. Rather he was just… alone. That was the harder part of things. That was the thing that getting his first commission check, or moving into his own place didn't fix. It got worse with the following years too.

Every time he achieved a new milestone is began to ring more and more hallow. His life seemed to be moving forward without him, not caring where he was as it did so. As he turned off the shower, and merely let the water drip from his body, Chase placed his forehead against the wall of the shower, and laughed bitterly.

"There are plenty of unhappily married men and I'd give anything just to not be alone at night."

He shook the thought off. After all, he was a servant of God, and surely the God who had created the universe had a better idea of what Chase's life needed to be than Chase himself did. Still, as he put on his pajamas and slipped into his bed, he couldn't help but feel how cold and empty the sheets were. Resigning to his usual sleeping position, Chase turned on his side, wrapping his arm around a spare pillow, which he drew in close to his chest until he could fall asleep.

Tomorrow would be another day. So he told himself, and despite tossing and turning for an hour, he eventually passed into the world of dreams.

He was standing on a strange sidewalk: one he didn't recognize. It was dark, and the moon and stars offered just enough light to see by. Chase looked around, confused and lost, trying to get his bearings. Suddenly, as he was attempting to peer into his surroundings, there was a very bright light. It was so bright that it blinded him and made him stop cold. For a long moment he didn't do anything, and then he saw that the light was heading his direction. It was coming on very fast, growing brighter and larger the longer he stood frozen.

Scared and lost, he leaned as far back as he could until his back came up against a metal bar. He looked around and realized he was standing on a bridge, and the thing heading just past him was a car, which was followed by another, and another.

As his eyes focused a little, he could see that the bridge was at least fifty feet above a river, which was swiftly moving along beneath him. The sidewalk that held him up was alongside a highway, with a dozen or so cars rushing one way or the other. He could hear the rush of wind as they moved towards and then away from him.

While he held his chest, still trying to catch his breath, he moved along the bridge. There was something very important on the bridge. He couldn't remember what it was, but it was very important and it was something he needed to get quickly or else… something.

He moved along the holding himself up by the rail, shivering against his will. It was cold, why was it so cold? It was also hard to walk, but he couldn't tell why. He also knew he couldn't take the time to figure out why. There was something very important here.

Chase grabbed the jacket he wore and tried to wrap it more securely around himself, though it did little for the cold in his cheeks. He continued to walk, and now it seemed impossible to stop, even if he wanted to. Some force, some energy, compelled him to continue.

As he reached the half-way point, he looked up and saw a woman standing there. She was beautiful, with shoulder-length brown hair, whipping about in the cold wind. Chase moved forward and was about to try and call out towards her, when he saw something else too. She was crying.

She made no noise that he could hear, but he could see her lips trembling and the tears spilling freely down her face. Slowly, she swung on leg over the railing, than another, standing only a small inch of concrete, with nothing between her and the fifty-foot drop into the water.

Realizing what she was about to do, Chase sprinted towards her, the cold on his face now nothing compared to the ice-cold panic in his chest. He yelled out, reaching for her but his voice made no noise and as he was fifteen feet away, she spread her arms, and fell.

Chase awoke, and sat bolt upright. He was sweating profusely and tangled up in his sheets while his heart seemed to be racing at a million miles an hour. It took him about a minute to realize where he was and another several minutes to calm down again.

His heart still pounding in his chest, Chase glanced over at his alarm clock. It was 3:04 in the morning. He lay back down on his pillow, and began to try and relax in the hopes of getting a little more sleep before the morning.

It wasn't until his heart rate returned to normal that Chase realized his was crying.