CLAIRE FISHER'S APARTMENT
In the dark, Claire tosses her body
onto its side, gripping the pillow closer to her head. But she is unaware
of all of this, because sleep has sucked her in ...
He's here.
Right in front of me. The face that has flooded my dreams and haunted my
nightmares for all these months.
Actually, it
started long before New Year's Eve. It started the day that I met him.
It was at a party, some event I didn't even want to go to. But a friend
forced me to attend. She said there'd be a guy there who I just had
to meet.
Turns out that
she was wrong -- the guy turned out to be a total moron. We had a good
laugh afterwards about her complete lack of solid judgment. Even though
that plan didn't exactly work out, I did meet
Tim that night. We were introduced
very casually and the whole time I was talking to that other guy, I was
searching around the party to locate Tim again. Finally we caught eyes
and he came over to "rescue" me. We more or less spent the rest of the
party talking.
That night
I dreamed about him. It wasn't a sexual dream, even though that had definitely
been on my mind that evening! We were back at the party -- somehow I knew
that it was the party, even though I can't remember anyone else being in
the dream and I wasn't aware of any noise besides our conversation -- and
we were talking. Some of it was information that we'd gone over replaying
itself in my mind and some of it was imagined. It didn't matter, though
-- I could feel the attraction, even though it was just a dream. It was
that strong. I woke up feeling like he should be there next to me.
The pull that
I feel to him now is the same as it was that first night, in that first
dream. I just need him, there's no other way to describe it. And
I can have him: Here he is, standing right in front of me.
I take a step
closer. Yet it doesn't seem to help -- we're still the same distance apart.
I take another step. Same thing. I'm not getting any closer.
"Tim," I hear
myself say.
He is looking
straight into my eyes. His eyes, those blue eyes, are locked with mine.
But he doesn't say anything.
"Tim," I say
again.
Still no answer.
I take another step, but it gets me nowhere. Desperately I lunge
forward, shooting out a hand to grasp him. I touch nothing, even though
I swear I moved far enough to get him.
"Tim!" The
searing desperation that I feel inside is spilling out in my voice. Still,
he doesn't react. "Tim!" I call again.
I rush forward
but I can't get him. What is going on? Why can't I just touch him again?
"Tim!" I cry
out, lunging again. This time my hand shoots right through him. I draw
it back. Something must be wrong with me ...
I look up,
terrified that I've removed my gaze from him even for this long. He's fading.
No, no -- he can't go. Not now, not after I lost him before. Tim, no, please
stay ...
"Tim!"
He's gone.
Suddenly the dark is enveloping Claire
again. Heavy breaths pound against her chest, feeling like they are going
to make her lungs explode at any instant.
I'm awake, she realizes as
the dark bedroom comes into focus. I'm at home. I'm not in that world
...
But that thought is of little comfort
as she realizes that the dream was true: Tim is gone. She can't even bear
to look at the empty side of the bed next to her.
"Tim." The name blows off her lips,
desperate, hopeless, like a mournful wind scathering fallen leaves through
a dreary cemetary.
He really is gone.
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