Vertigo (Part 1/2)
anonymous
July 4 2012, 01:46:23 UTC
In the seventh grade, Younha had the same dream for almost a month straight. She was on the beach: the one she used to live by four years ago, the one her younger sister almost drowned at, except there was no ocean in the dream. She was running, sand kicking up behind her, and she could feel the grains between her toes. She could never see what she was running from it, but she could feel it behind her, the way she felt open closets at night--dark with possibilities.
She decided to tell Yubin, because she told Yubin everything, and because Yubin could explain solutions in a way that made them seem obvious. It was lunch hour, and they had moved their desks to face each other. Yubin crunched baby carrots between her molars, looking deep in thought. Yubin had cut her hair that morning, and a single blade of black hair rested on her collarbone. Her hair was short again, to match Younha's; they had made a pact. Yubin looked brighter, somehow, with the cropped hair. Younha caught herself staring, but didn't feel a trace of embarrassment.
“So, stop running,” Yubin said. “It's just a dream.”
“It doesn't work like that,” Younha said. “The running is automatic.”
Yubin threw up her hands. “I don't know, then.” But, almost immediately after speaking, her eyes widened. Younha knew this look.
“Take me into the dream with you,” Yubin said, nearly jumping out of her chair in excitement.
“How?”
“Think about me really hard, before you go to sleep. If I'm in your dream, I'll definitely help you figure it out.”
Younha lie in bed that night and thought about Yubin, as hard as she could. She thought about how dumb Yubin was for being so excited over this idea. She thought about how Yubin had smiled while they were walking home, wide and stupid but easy to get lost in. She thought about Yubin's other smiles: the grin when her team won a game, the sarcastic smirk usually accompanied with air quotes. Then there was the way she looked at Younha sometimes, so happy and comfortable that Younha felt doors opening inside of her, sinks running over. She thought about Yubin's hands, which were feminine in shape but calloused on the palm from softball. She thought about Yubin's lips, and then forced herself to stop thinking about Yubin.
When she finally fell asleep, the dream was the same. She was running on the beach, alone, unable to stop moving forward, sinking deeper in the sand with every step. It started to change, though, when she reached the edge of a cliff, and her body jerked to a halt. What do I do now, she asked to no one, and turned around. Yubin was there behind her, smiling. Yubin reached out her arms, Younha felt the impact of Yubin's palms on her chest, and then Younha was falling.
“Did it work?” Yubin asked, before Younha had time to sit down. Younha dropped her backpack onto her desk and slumped into the chair.
“You were there. But you pushed me off a cliff,” she said.
Yubin looked horrified, her mouth open.
“Why would I do that!”
“That's a question you'll need to ask yourself, murderer.” Younha was only partially teasing. She felt hurt by the dream, although she knew it was unreasonable. The teacher arrived then, and they were forced to direct themselves to Algebra.
She decided to tell Yubin, because she told Yubin everything, and because Yubin could explain solutions in a way that made them seem obvious. It was lunch hour, and they had moved their desks to face each other. Yubin crunched baby carrots between her molars, looking deep in thought. Yubin had cut her hair that morning, and a single blade of black hair rested on her collarbone. Her hair was short again, to match Younha's; they had made a pact. Yubin looked brighter, somehow, with the cropped hair. Younha caught herself staring, but didn't feel a trace of embarrassment.
“So, stop running,” Yubin said. “It's just a dream.”
“It doesn't work like that,” Younha said. “The running is automatic.”
Yubin threw up her hands. “I don't know, then.” But, almost immediately after speaking, her eyes widened. Younha knew this look.
“Take me into the dream with you,” Yubin said, nearly jumping out of her chair in excitement.
“How?”
“Think about me really hard, before you go to sleep. If I'm in your dream, I'll definitely help you figure it out.”
Younha lie in bed that night and thought about Yubin, as hard as she could. She thought about how dumb Yubin was for being so excited over this idea. She thought about how Yubin had smiled while they were walking home, wide and stupid but easy to get lost in. She thought about Yubin's other smiles: the grin when her team won a game, the sarcastic smirk usually accompanied with air quotes. Then there was the way she looked at Younha sometimes, so happy and comfortable that Younha felt doors opening inside of her, sinks running over. She thought about Yubin's hands, which were feminine in shape but calloused on the palm from softball. She thought about Yubin's lips, and then forced herself to stop thinking about Yubin.
When she finally fell asleep, the dream was the same. She was running on the beach, alone, unable to stop moving forward, sinking deeper in the sand with every step. It started to change, though, when she reached the edge of a cliff, and her body jerked to a halt. What do I do now, she asked to no one, and turned around. Yubin was there behind her, smiling. Yubin reached out her arms, Younha felt the impact of Yubin's palms on her chest, and then Younha was falling.
“Did it work?” Yubin asked, before Younha had time to sit down. Younha dropped her backpack onto her desk and slumped into the chair.
“You were there. But you pushed me off a cliff,” she said.
Yubin looked horrified, her mouth open.
“Why would I do that!”
“That's a question you'll need to ask yourself, murderer.” Younha was only partially teasing. She felt hurt by the dream, although she knew it was unreasonable. The teacher arrived then, and they were forced to direct themselves to Algebra.
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