Return Home- The Dreamwalker

"With a single line, The Dreamwalker(')s(') tale and morning begin." I wake with this thought in mind, lingering in bed without opening my eyes. It is unclear to me how long I remain like this, letting stories take shape around residual thoughts, daydreaming, it might be called. I do not toss and turn like I normally do in such hazes, and only think anything of it when the weight on my chest sinks in. I feel my reaction muted to a degree, instincts perhaps taking stock of how long I have laid like this. Instead of flailing to my feet, my mind races for an explanation. Much like a couple/few dreams and dream like experiences that I've had in the past, narrative sense feels like a tangible, crystallizing, force. Rather than a smooth introduction of a narrative, it is like my consciousness is enveloped, and then abruptly yanked to the new channel. It is The Dreamwalker, though I cannot recall when she slipped in. I let focus slip to the skin blessed to be in contact, and relax into the scenario, finding rest on a Sunday morning with my still sleeping partner.

"What can walking all these long roads be worth?

Does it all come down to one proud smile?

One unmatched in value, unseen since birth

For deeds suited to parse extra mile

For if we only find rest at halftime

It means we will never see this game's end.

But if the arrow's lesson is worth the climb

Then every step steps better with a friend.

We take for granted so much in this life

In the end, what more will we have than kin?

What else but love can balance scales with strife?

Let's play a game we're never meant to win.

A parley between souls, with assigned roles

Parse well the controls, for bell never tolls."

My partner shifts slightly and stretches. "'Kin! You did see my message." 

"Of course! It is one of my favorite things now. It also may successfully answer the question, of what might be worth the price. A message sent unmistakably across lines thought blocked off can be worth everything."

She knows that I am not exaggerating, and I can feel her reaction more than hear or see it.

"So what brings you by?" 

She pops up, suddenly full of energy. "I want to see it all! Your entire town, all in a day. I want my next dream to be compelled by exhaustion here, a satisfied, fulfilled, exhaustion. We dream and even dreamwalk differently, and I have only recently discovered some of the niche effects that difference can have. If we find ourselves exhausted in the same place when we fall asleep, perhaps we can stay in the same place when we next wake up. I want to see everything."

I follow her logic, and immediately consider the definition of "wake up," as it might even apply to the beginning of a dream, or, in this case, a story.

She interrupts my zoning out immediately. "I said everything!"

I know she exaggerates, though not by much. I don't think that I've ever seen her like this, excited to the point of now hopping about the room as we get ready to embark into the winter cold. It is adorable, and nice to see her let her hair down and come out of her shell all at once. Soon enough, I lock my doors and we begin our adventure.

I show her the small park, the larger park nearby, and we even stumble across a third park as we adventure. We wander downtown, and stop at the historical train stop and visitor center. A bus unloads, loads, and departs as we soak in the sights and take some pictures. We both find ourselves engrossed in the possibilities, likely for similar reasons.

"Imagine if we booked two tickets, and got on a bus that we knew we couldn't stay awake through the destination of."

We do. We both stare at this relatively uninteresting bus as it very slowly makes its way out of the tourist center parking lot, destination unknown. I cannot imagine making such a trip by myself, but there is something downright magical about imagining doing it with her.

We see the many sights of downtown, and buy ourselves some candy. I let her pick the cuisine for lunch and we trek to my favorite spot. The afternoon finds us at a Frisbee golf course my friend showed me, though we just walk around through the trees, as we did not bring equipment. We take the scenic trail and find some gophers, and by sunset I am already fully exhausted. As we stop into a gas station for water and snacks, I take a step back as she's deciding what drink to get, primarily to gauge if she's exhausted as well, and just hiding it better. Instead, I find myself drawn into her. One would think that such an outdoors adventure might tarnish one's shine, at least temporarily, but her's shines all the more. I can tell that this is already one of her happiest days, and she makes no attempt to hide that, smiling ear to ear, cheeks red, likely from both exertion and joy. I observe her as she picks out a drink; somehow this seems to be an adventure all its own, like she has found magic in the mundane details available. I wonder just how differently we experience this place, or "waking world," and each other pocket that we have found ourselves sharing. Perhaps that is the mystery that will be preserved- that ineffible gap between self and beloved other- where one can only ever experience one's own course. Even when the other is fully known, this gap in experience remains a wonder; as long as I am certain that we are each happy, such ignorance remaining is alright with me, perhaps even preferable.

I zone back in from this mental side track to find that she is now staring at me, drink already in hand. She is beet read, and looks pleased as punch, as I must have been staring at her- fully noticed now- for at least 5 seconds. I gasp slightly and look away, but she giggles and crowds my side, dispelling my insecurities. She does make a point to tease me from time to time for the balance of the day however, including intentionally posing in front of points of interest, within my eyeline, and then looking back at me coyly. After ample amusement gained on both sides from this ploy, I finally just stop looking away, shifting the energy of the day, as night falls.

"In-N-Out?"

We agree and get a car, heading to the other side of town. On the ride over, I recite her a poem.

"With squeeze of the hand

Synchronization signaled

Dreamwalkers partnered

We've walked together

I've seen this realm through your eyes

Hope you have as well/feel the same

Or at least a glimpse

So that we are not alone

And know the other

May these words aid you

You think therefore you must be

We think each our own

Your thoughts familiar

Like the sonorous shoreline

On which my thoughts walk

Might I be your shore?

Let us build on this image

And invert our roles 

The first will be last

Who we are is fixed to me

Let's pretend we're both

It may be the truth

Page by page found to be real

Fitting like a glove."

I open the door to the restaurant for her, and we order our food. We decide to sit outside, each jacketed comfortably, with the snow just starting to fall. We both stare out at the dimly lit parking lot, as snowflakes fall in flurries.

"I was going to suggest the used bookstore next, but this is nice."

"I agree. I take back my request to see everything, this is nice."

She rests her head on my shoulder. We sit there, under the overhang, as the town around us is blanketed with snow.

"You know, today unfolded a lot like dreams do, with too many scenes to do full justice to in memory, but I love having the opportunity to try."

"I hope that I remember this scene, at a minimum."

"I hope the same. I have a good feeling about this one."

The page outlasts the observer, and the next scene begins.