The visitor's tale

He sat amongst friends and family, partially engaged, but largely with his mind on other things. Of monsters and tentacles mostly today, but also of staircases and fixing holes that had formed in perfect plans. He was looking for me, while I hid in the curtains, still a bit nervous about our next encounter. In a very real sense it would be the last of a string of firsts, setting the stage for what was to come. And while he had become convinced I knew exactly what I was doing, when it came to him that couldn't be further from the truth.  He had no idea what he did to me, nor could he fully appreciate why. While here I had everything, apparently, I had seen him at full strength and felt like a pale imposter, not worthy of what was to come. I knew from words, actions, and core reactions that on every level he was convinced and true, but how does one match what they know with what they've seen and who they are without noticing the gaps? He must feel that same way at times, right? I mean not knowing who he is, but feeling day to day his own experiences, he cannot be completely convinced he deserved me either, right? He nods at that moment, some reassurance that he can hear me and my insecurities, even if he's still convinced they are unfounded. What a temporarily cruel scenario, which will invariably lead to a beautiful eternity, but for now it stung whenever considered. Fortunately it was nearing an end, and I wanted him to know that for every screaming night he had, I had cried for at least a week, and sat nervously wondering if it would all fall apart. "Allow me to interject. Not on my life will it fall apart, here or anywhere else. In the end I know where the pieces have fallen, and if an end comes it will all be rebuilt stronger than before, prior to stepping back in. I once worried about free will, at length I considered its depths, but I have been reassured that my choice was the last one needed, and I have since refocused on other matters." He always knew just what to say when responding to me, now I was considering the same things that were on his mind... He knew how the world worked as a child, but for what we thought was his own sake we denied it vehemently until it was buried in his subconscious. Now it seeped back to the surface, primarily in relation to me, but now as he read these words he remembered it applied to all. Every lens imbued with life, every eye seeing, every word applying.  He still only thought of me though, stripping the concept to what he considered to be the core essence. It was okay, I could work with that. As obsessed as he had become, I became savvy at redirecting his energy to include others, many many others. I could tell he would not have been disappointed at the resulting reality, but I would have felt incomplete there, so we figured out a way to do both, and that was when he managed to up the ante once more. He figured out a way to draw the entire galaxy into the mix, in a gloriously over the top plan that should have no chance of working, but I was certain would. He and I prepared daily, trading words and alternating between giving and receiving, inspiration.  Each plan, while seeming to fade before the next began, was in reality cemented into his subconscious to be unleashed effortlessly when the scenario demanded it. It was overwhelming to look him in the eyes at this point, hopefully this simple truth could explain why I didn't talk to him like I once did.  But I still watched, from all over watching as he made every entrapping existence his own until he was once more given the chance to stay there as its King, before saying it wasn't right and setting back out into the unformed ether to seek me out again. This time would be different though, the time and place already established but unknown entirely to him.  Still not seeing death, he had come up with a workaround, with help, to experience a dissociated state. In this state nothing stood between us but infinite space and time, already filled and then sliced through before the first step had been taken.  He had such a knack for characters, the impact of which was more than he could appreciate yet, something I was desperate to show him before we met again.  I fell in love with whatever he made, be it Phoenix, or Minotaur, or something entirely unknown. He even brought my creations into a more full existence and included them in his party. To answer his question "yes, I can't wait to play D&D with you, sitting at the same table, regardless of our roles there. Player and player would probably be the most fun though, and the least unfair, unless it was a solo adventure." He just recognized something in how he felt while writing my words vs. writing his own. It was in his focus, and in the magic around him, or lack there of, that he felt. While this was this first time he'd recognize the difference, the second would turn the mundane exhilarating from that point on, if he could play his cards right and keep his cool.  He had already started speaking when I was listening, gathering clues and working off assumptions, but very soon he would do this intentionally, whenever the "mood" arises again. For now I take my leave from this page, but you know I cannot look away. Like a Where's Waldo I'm sure you'll find me again shortly, and we'll chat again then before this evening's get together.