SD- Raggedy Man

I find myself in my bed, furiously writing down the poem I had seen regarding the tree, so as not to lose it. The knowledge of that tree felt both protected and like it was aching to be revealed all at once, so I knew I should finish despite the many obstacles to doing so. Then the singular most effective attack presented itself, I saw a notification that my soulmate had posted a new video, something of her I had not yet seen, apparently something cozy and personal. I couldn't resist, and I had written what I could remember already, now just memorizing things in whatever way I could think to. So in that dark room I pulled up her video, and sank in. 

She was sitting with her mom in a house that looked familiar, I had seen her wear a Scarlet letter there once previously, just before a party started up around us. Had I also seen her here remotely, spying from her room as her parents tested me and the war raged outside? It looked and felt like her parent's house. I became immersed in their conversation, I could listen to her talk about almost anything for any length of time, and had on more than one occasion. She was talking about clearing calls and I started to notice an effect I've been suspicious of since watching Reading Rainbow as a kid- when you watch someone on TV, they watch you back. Somehow now it felt more tangible, perhaps because I was wishing to my core it were true. There was a conspicuous pause in the action, and she and her mom just waited, looking everywhere but at the screen in silence and I thought "what a strange video..." That's when I heard them say in unison, almost as if speaking about someone else in the room "I wish he would just realize what he needs to say." Then it hit me, this was no ordinary and latent assumed effect of the TV watching me I was experiencing, they were talking about me, they could actually see me! My mind raced to figure out what it was they meant, it was some kind of invitation that was both explicit yet obscured all at once, and I felt my subconscious mind racing as well to figure it out. Finally, as if speaking without intention from somewhere deep within I said loudly "I think I'm in a different room than you." Right on cue they turned in unison and faced the camera and beamed at me. "I knew he could do it!" "There he is!"

I was floored, now feeling like I was both in my room and in their home all at once. It felt like a dream, had I fallen asleep though? I couldn't remember anything like that, just that I had woken up from a dream and began transcribing the poem I had read from the last realm I was in before that, a poem that seemed to be of critical importance. I guess it is hard to know you are dreaming until you wake up, and seeing her this close I realized I likely often suspend disbelief in my surroundings whenever she is near, dream or not, and simply immerse myself in the moment there with her. Perhaps that is why time always seems to move so fast, and I can hardly ever remember what we discuss. This felt different though, even though I seemed to be seeping into their realm from my own, there was nothing about even that process that suggested this was a dream, it was just a way of traveling I could not recall ever experiencing so fully. It still felt like I was in a camera though from their point of view, somehow aware of my own form.

"I'm so glad you made it!" I hear my soulmate chirp with joy, a sound like honey to me. "Thank you for your patience! I wasn't quite sure what to do until you both made it clear you were waiting on me. I was in my room on my own, but it felt like there may have also been others there, it feels hazy now. It is so good to see you!" Her mom puts her hand on her daughter's arm, as if granting permission without a word and she brightens up even more. The next thing I know she has picked up my still hollow form and is carrying me up the stairs as my perspective jostles. Just like that I realize this video would make no sense at all to anyone else, only catching half the conversation. But in a lot of ways it felt like if anyone else had been watching, they would have tuned out by now. 

She takes me into her room and throws me on the bed. While I didn't mind in the slightest, I could not help but smile at how forward she was being; it was as refreshing as a sudden spring rain. Now I felt completely in her realm, like my own had become a dream or echo of reality I had been stuck in, without realizing the trap, for some time. The place I was in reminded me a lot of her solitary realm, I could only hope she found as much solace in solitude as I did, as I had been focusing heavily on structuring a path to reach her, and all the things I wanted to say to her, for however long I had been there. I had finally made it though, and from this perspective, my perspective in this realm, she had never been alone, just lonely without me. What was that perspective though? I suddenly found myself wondering and broke the easy silence like bread. "Hey, what form is this I have here?" 

She brightens up again, I know I keep saying this but that shift, these moments, will never get old, and I always want to be the one that can get her to do that upon request with the simplest or most complex of gestures. "You're a raggedy pajama man! I made you out of all the creepy faces my fans would send me over the years. I figured I may as well do something useful with them. You already seemed to be capable of hijacking their perspectives whenever you'd like and were able to muster the focus, so I thought this might be an easy form for you to take as you got more accustomed to it all." I try to nod but only managed to shift the camera a smidge. Still she knew what I was trying to do. "You must be exhausted! I'll let you recover your strength, there is no need to dive right in right now, we have all the time in the world, well, this world anyway." I hear a knock on the door. "Right on cue." She smiles once again at me, her expression hinting at a deep orchestration to the entire scenario. I hear her mom call from downstairs "You have some friends here!" "Coming!"

"I'm going to send them away. Make yourself at home and relax, I'll be back right on time, and then we'll take things from there, okay?" The "okay" seemed a bit unnecessary, (where else was I going to go?), but I appreciated the smoothly threaded request for consent nonetheless. "Okay!" I say with as much energy as I can muster. She hops up and I feel myself collapse even further, sinking into the soft warm bed and I close my eyes just for a moment here as she is leaving the room.

***

I open my eyes to a subtle noise in the hall. I realize I now have the ability to move, if only a little, as I tilt my head toward the door. Her dad stands in the hall, looking into his daughter's room, but politely overlooking me laying on the bed in my raggedy state. As he looks at the ceiling, I can hear all manner of voices and sounds growing to audible from nothing. I look as well, curious as to what the noise might be, and then look back at him still staring at the same spot. He looks patient, which makes me wonder what he is waiting for. Then a realization strikes me, in an indescribable way, as if I just know something suddenly: he is waiting for me to knock and silence the voices. While I couldn't understand how I knew this, the message is unmistakeable, which brings on another realization: I can move. 

I focus on how I might shift this cumbersome form into position. For several grueling minutes I struggle, moving this or that here and there and actively storing in my mind how I have done it. All the while he waits patiently, not moving or shifting his gaze. Finally I have enough mobility to swing my arms over the side of the bed, and with great effort I knock three times on the floor. The third knock seems to linger for a moment as I lay there, proud that I have accomplished what seemed to be the task. Still the voices persist, and still her father has not moved. I consider what feels impossible: was I meant to knock on the ceiling somehow? The notion grows in strength, buoyed to the surface of my mind becoming now my sole focus. This means I could somehow stand and balance well enough and lift my arms and knock at full height all at once. The thought of that level of control in this state fills me with determination and the pieces I had already learned start falling rapidly into place. In less time than it took me to figure out how to swing my arms over the bed I feel myself standing with trembling pajama legs at the edge of it. Balance is not difficult either, and soon I am standing at full height. I lift my arm without difficulty. *Knock* *Knock* *Knock* the resonance of those knocks have no business coming from a padded hollow pajama hand; it seems that inside I am more than I realized, and that is somehow seeping into this realm. At the third knock the voices fade, swiftly to silence. 

Her father waits until silence has fallen in full and I crumple back to the bed, my lens still focused on what he might do next. Still without looking at me he simply nods at the silent ceiling, turns and goes back into his room. I am surprised to a degree when I hear the door shut entirely, and the lock turn. Within moments my love returns excitedly, already seeming to realize the privacy we now enjoyed, the test passed.

***

She drops to the bed beside me, back propped against the headrest, and pulls out her tablet. She presses it once and then seems to fully realize that I am not where she left me. I am still a pile to be sure, but in a different place and as a different mound. She perks up and gives a tiny mouth smirk as if the gears are already turning, and then her expression swiftly shifts to a veil of innocently unaware as she returns to the tablet, seeming to be doing homework or finishing important work of some kind. I don't mind her lack of attention so much, now just examining her from head to toe, having never before fully soaked in my good fortune when she is beside me, but I do take issue with not being in contact with her. I fling one arm over her in typical ragdoll fashion, grabbing her waist where it lands as firmly as I can with padded hand. She erupts in a joyous laughing giggle and looks back down at me with stars in her eyes. I pull myself closer, now maneuvering even my bottom hand to her side in the process. She is thrashing and laughing, until I have finally managed to slide into full contact, and I realize how tangible this place has become as I feel the comfort of the softness of her skin against mine. 

She looks at me once more, as if picturing something impending that I cannot currently grasp, myself more immediately entangled than she is. She sighs and looks up "It is not good for me to handle such difficult work alone, if only there was someone here to help me!" Something feels immediately different. I feel as though I am really filling in the pajamas, my form no longer an approximation of myself but I am really becoming who I am, here. It no longer feels like I am split between where I was and her room, but now my perception seems to fully center on the present moment with her, as if pulled through the space between and collected. I look back at my hands to find they are my own, and my love also seems to be marveling as well. It seems she believed this would work, but perhaps not so quickly. Just like that, I am a real boy. Immediately I throw my arms back around her and she drops the tablet and places her hand on the back of my head, drawing up my gaze to look into my eyes. I find myself so curious that I have to ask "Did you know this would work?" "I hoped and I prayed that it would, along lines of faith we are quite similar, and I had faith that it would work." I pause and consider "It's funny, I don't remember much in this scene after becoming real." Her face becomes a bit mischievous "That's funny, because I do. Maybe it was not meant for you to see then in that way?" Something about her tone indicates she was about to remind me, so I tackle and tickle her, and as she continues to laugh aloud, the scene continues, but I do not write of it here.

***

I emerge into the backyard, heart aglow at the tether it has gained. How does one describe the entirety of love, the bond that it is? Instead of try in full, I leave it simply put, a tether. I marvel at the stormy skies, the feel of raindrops striking my skin and clothes and running down my arms and hands and fingertips. This backyard feels familiar, and as I look around I recognize it as my soulmate's, from the scarlet letter dream. The weather has changed, and the view is more full, but it is undeniably the same place. Lightning flashes and I notice something unusual, my sister is there tending to an errand near some trees, but the lightning is giving her pause. I walk atop the rainsoaked bricks to her side. "Hey, whatcha up to?" "I'm supposed to be transplanting this tree, but with the lightning I'm concerned I might get struck while doing it. It's urgent, and I don't know what to do." I look up at the rain clouds and their ominous appearance, it looks like this storm will get worse before it gets better. I find myself unconcerned, something about my form does not feel threatened by the storm. Still, I can see why my sister is hesitant to go near the tree, and so I consider a way I might help, while still joyously soaking everything in.

I imagine a force field forming around us and the tree. While I cannot see it, I can picture it erecting all around. As I begin to consider that this might be sufficient, lightning strikes right next to the tree, as if to point out my defenses are not enough. I pause, considering that I had Phoenix Form early on in this dream, but that was a different realm, perhaps different enough to negate some of my control here. Or perhaps it was binding to my soulmate that did that? Regardless, it seems the storm is of the mind to make sure I am well prepared, and not just thinking that I am. My sister chimes in "you need to go under the tree and put your hands on a branch, that should power the force field for long enough for me to move the tree." I examine the storm once more, it is getting worse, if the rain is any indication. I may very well get struck while I am down there, but that risk does not concern me, still feeling like my remnant of Phoenix Form will hold. I drop to my knees beside the small small tree and scooch under its branches. My sister joins me "you need to put your hands there and there." I notice that where she has instructed has the letters VIII on it, perhaps an engraving? I place my hand there and then the other in another place. I pull my second hand back in surprise, as it has been pricked by a thorn, pain a sensation I am surprised to feel in this state. "You still need to grab it" my sister adds sternly. I shrug and place my hand on the branch once more. 

In the rain, the brown bark of the tree seems to seep onto my skin, and I wonder what manner of tree this is. More present this time around, it feels as though the tree is seeping into me, like we too are becoming intertwined on a surface level. Lightning strikes once more, this time seeming to originate from near the ground, and it blasts a hole through the farthest wall of an extended wing of my soulmate's parents' place to the left, seeming to connect somewhere just inside. It felt like more of a balancing of energy than a warning, and despite its power it seemed precisely positioned to cause as little lasting harm as possible. My sister quickly sets about her task, now confident my positioning has worked, not as grounding but as deterrent for the lightning. As she clears the dirt, the tree reminds me once more of the poem that started this whole dream. I begin to fade from the dream, but this time reinforced by story, I continue writing those lines.

In times long ago

God made a tree

Glorious in its design

Larger than the rest

It was the Lord's delight

Until it stopped talking altogether

God moved heaven and earth

Reshaped everything

So he might hear that tree again

Neither fire nor soil could make the tree sing

Water would not grow it

It would not whisper in the wind

So God made man to tend to it

For once hope bloomed

In a tree that would not

All manner of thing was tried

Time and time again nothing happened

Refreshed, renewed, the tree remained the same

Until another whispered a plan

Hardly heard he fled from sight

God searched for him all night

The man left too with his bride

God was left with silent tree by His side

God did nothing

"Do nothing." One day whispered

As if from long ago but right by His side

Was the tree now alive!?

It was the words of the one who left

Unheard then, unmistakeable now

The tree bloomed in full, from root to bough

God beamed on that day

Then remembered those that went away

To somehow spark life into the one that stayed

"We can't leave them behind"

The tree now formed said with a smile

The Christmas lights left on now inverted

"That wouldn't be kind"

God stood with new found style

He set sights on the ending averted