First Walk
A short story, inspired by a dream.
***
The First Walk
"Go to her," my master prompted with a certain melancholy.
She plaintively traced the edge of the eight foot square, ignoring twisted metal sculptures and bits of sharp objects strewn about that in life would have gashed bare feet. Her mouth was a voiceless call for help. I rarely log dreams but this would haunt me to type out the last details, so close to dawn that morning.
She'd walk the path again and again in her bedroom grown, for all eternity perhaps, if I did not intervene.
Hesitation. It would be my only chance, and despite the training, it filled me with apprehension. I could sense my teacher's silent encouragement to step forward. It was small comfort he would watch over; once begun there was little else could be done. The bond made the task mine alone.
I focused a moment then entered the box. Her form shuffled past in endless, almost robotic search. This place was the product of a mind which instinctively knew its last location but through lack of conscious frame of reference could not come to terms with the stark reality of what had happened.
She circled. I reached out, but arms passed through white gossamer like a ghost. There were slight sounds of feet against a hardwood floor.
Though inside I was not yet fully a part of it. "Collect your thoughts. Open your mind,” a voice distantly guided. Thank you, master.
She came again and my hand caught the edge of her garment; there was some resistance, a hint of recognition that something had slowed its path.
One more breath.
This time I knelt firmly in her path as she completed another circle. She advanced and we collided. My arms struggled to cradle her legs. It took all my power to fight the obsessive motion, as she twisted to evade this strange new obstacle. I felt the softness of her gown, the warmth of her body - a comfort that willed me to hold even more tightly.
"Wait,” I pleaded.
A few moments struggle. She looked down in a vacant quizzical state. I was struck by how the black sky framed the soft glow of her skin and accentuated her deep brown eyes and crown of flowing hair. We had talked a few times in the lab, but in that sterile environ of machines and harsh lights there were scant opportunities for such beauty.
My hand trailed slowly up her side. It struck me how real it all felt, so intense was this creation.
I rose and our hands came together. She clasped mine with childlike familiarity. We strolled for what seemed a very long time to the far side of the small box. By then two chairs had formed. In one was the wistful shape of a balding tuxedoed man, whom I assumed was a fellow passenger she had acquainted herself with earlier and now swept into this world through sheer force of will. His own visage matched hers, with a hint of fright. He had even less idea what was transpiring.
I walked her to the other chair. She had calmed now. It was a prison of thought and time, but no longer a lonely one. She considered it all without acknowledging the man. Many moments of silence, and then...
"Isn't it gorgeous?" she asked looking up, the blackness now a night sky brilliant with stars.
"Yes," I replied, my eyes focused on her. My duty was to assist, not direct. "Did you enjoy the ship?"
"Yes," she returned. "The food was wonderful. Thank you." She watched with both fascination and vague recognition.
I began to speak but the shift began. Fickle and whimsical dreams were, her world was taking a new course. My question would be futile until all settled.
...A brief moment of disorientation...
We were in the dojo. The sounds of battling shinai echoed through the cherry and pine room as students practiced their martial vigor in the distance. I was garbed in a white kimono, a sheathed sword at my waist. Emily and the man were sitting on the bare floor a few feet away.
"Will you show me how you fight?" She asked.
I looked down at the scabbard. She'd mentioned visiting the Kendo club where I practiced. A dream walker studies a variety of arts and philosophies. To train the mind to experience new things and understand quickly creates the ability to focus in such a turbulent place. This was the key to walking a dream.
Tentatively my hand twisted the hilt to free the blade. It felt… off. As the metal slid further I understood. The sword was only half as long as it should be, broken at the end. I moved to an overhead position to begin the demonstration, then looked for some explanation.
In the instant our eyes met, I experienced her... and wavered.
In life we are a product of the facades and masks we employ to protect ourselves… rejection, misunderstanding, heartbreak. Never quite knowing what lies beneath, like icebergs we float through time, only showing a surface for others to see. In the dreaming, those facades are ripped away and the true person comes out... all the imperfections, the painful twists, the wants, the needs, the desires... a deeply personal and life altering act to have the soul laid bare.
That is why we always enter with permission. Tonight was the one exception, when there is no choice but to ease suffering. It was also my first dream walk.
"I..."
Our minds touched. Not just a person I'd chatted over coffee - here was the kindred spirit I'd searched for many years. She had a kind purity, a soul that accepts without hesitation. Comforting without consideration for the petty differences that separate people so easily. She was free spirit and voice of wisdom in equal measure. The fear of failure, the need to accomplish, and the will that would eventually overcome it all. I could see us courting, getting married, and growing old together... all in the same instant.
I was unprepared for the brutal truth of it. Trembling, I brought the sword down, and saw the blade had now completely gone, chipped hilt edges the only sign metal had grafted wood. Time was running out.
Once a bright and promising life, a conscious fragment was all that remained. Her broken body lay fathoms beneath us. The knowledge of her dawned and I wept. In fading echos she'd filled my life... and now I was losing. Again.
I fought back anguish. Her gaze never wavered as she smiled, completely unaware what had transpired. Some comfort in that. The tuxedoed man stared silently. He would soon pass on, but it seemed she had one last act to play out in this final journey.
The room swirled again and we were back in that eight foot box of twisted iron figures, which I now recognized as ship wreckage. The tuxedo man was gone. She was sitting in the same chair, her brown hair now flowing whimsically as if she were standing on the bow, a gentle wind tossing the strands about. Next to her was the technician I’d befriended over many sessions. I recognized this part as more than a mere construct - it was memory, a last piece of consciousness bubbling to the surface.
"Do you think…?” She asked him, then trailed off.
“Yeah.”
I could feel her letting go.
“I'm a little nervous.”
“Who knows how long the research grant will last. After that-“ he shrugged.
“Yeah.” She paused. “Ok, I’ll ask him out after.”
“Good luck."
I closed my eyes, and let the dream end. The pain, the joy, the emotions of the last hour ebbed out of me, and I awoke.
She had crossed... but not completely gone.
"Goodbye, Emily."
***
The First Walk
"Go to her," my master prompted with a certain melancholy.
She plaintively traced the edge of the eight foot square, ignoring twisted metal sculptures and bits of sharp objects strewn about that in life would have gashed bare feet. Her mouth was a voiceless call for help. I rarely log dreams but this would haunt me to type out the last details, so close to dawn that morning.
She'd walk the path again and again in her bedroom grown, for all eternity perhaps, if I did not intervene.
Hesitation. It would be my only chance, and despite the training, it filled me with apprehension. I could sense my teacher's silent encouragement to step forward. It was small comfort he would watch over; once begun there was little else could be done. The bond made the task mine alone.
I focused a moment then entered the box. Her form shuffled past in endless, almost robotic search. This place was the product of a mind which instinctively knew its last location but through lack of conscious frame of reference could not come to terms with the stark reality of what had happened.
She circled. I reached out, but arms passed through white gossamer like a ghost. There were slight sounds of feet against a hardwood floor.
Though inside I was not yet fully a part of it. "Collect your thoughts. Open your mind,” a voice distantly guided. Thank you, master.
She came again and my hand caught the edge of her garment; there was some resistance, a hint of recognition that something had slowed its path.
One more breath.
This time I knelt firmly in her path as she completed another circle. She advanced and we collided. My arms struggled to cradle her legs. It took all my power to fight the obsessive motion, as she twisted to evade this strange new obstacle. I felt the softness of her gown, the warmth of her body - a comfort that willed me to hold even more tightly.
"Wait,” I pleaded.
A few moments struggle. She looked down in a vacant quizzical state. I was struck by how the black sky framed the soft glow of her skin and accentuated her deep brown eyes and crown of flowing hair. We had talked a few times in the lab, but in that sterile environ of machines and harsh lights there were scant opportunities for such beauty.
My hand trailed slowly up her side. It struck me how real it all felt, so intense was this creation.
I rose and our hands came together. She clasped mine with childlike familiarity. We strolled for what seemed a very long time to the far side of the small box. By then two chairs had formed. In one was the wistful shape of a balding tuxedoed man, whom I assumed was a fellow passenger she had acquainted herself with earlier and now swept into this world through sheer force of will. His own visage matched hers, with a hint of fright. He had even less idea what was transpiring.
I walked her to the other chair. She had calmed now. It was a prison of thought and time, but no longer a lonely one. She considered it all without acknowledging the man. Many moments of silence, and then...
"Isn't it gorgeous?" she asked looking up, the blackness now a night sky brilliant with stars.
"Yes," I replied, my eyes focused on her. My duty was to assist, not direct. "Did you enjoy the ship?"
"Yes," she returned. "The food was wonderful. Thank you." She watched with both fascination and vague recognition.
I began to speak but the shift began. Fickle and whimsical dreams were, her world was taking a new course. My question would be futile until all settled.
...A brief moment of disorientation...
We were in the dojo. The sounds of battling shinai echoed through the cherry and pine room as students practiced their martial vigor in the distance. I was garbed in a white kimono, a sheathed sword at my waist. Emily and the man were sitting on the bare floor a few feet away.
"Will you show me how you fight?" She asked.
I looked down at the scabbard. She'd mentioned visiting the Kendo club where I practiced. A dream walker studies a variety of arts and philosophies. To train the mind to experience new things and understand quickly creates the ability to focus in such a turbulent place. This was the key to walking a dream.
Tentatively my hand twisted the hilt to free the blade. It felt… off. As the metal slid further I understood. The sword was only half as long as it should be, broken at the end. I moved to an overhead position to begin the demonstration, then looked for some explanation.
In the instant our eyes met, I experienced her... and wavered.
In life we are a product of the facades and masks we employ to protect ourselves… rejection, misunderstanding, heartbreak. Never quite knowing what lies beneath, like icebergs we float through time, only showing a surface for others to see. In the dreaming, those facades are ripped away and the true person comes out... all the imperfections, the painful twists, the wants, the needs, the desires... a deeply personal and life altering act to have the soul laid bare.
That is why we always enter with permission. Tonight was the one exception, when there is no choice but to ease suffering. It was also my first dream walk.
"I..."
Our minds touched. Not just a person I'd chatted over coffee - here was the kindred spirit I'd searched for many years. She had a kind purity, a soul that accepts without hesitation. Comforting without consideration for the petty differences that separate people so easily. She was free spirit and voice of wisdom in equal measure. The fear of failure, the need to accomplish, and the will that would eventually overcome it all. I could see us courting, getting married, and growing old together... all in the same instant.
I was unprepared for the brutal truth of it. Trembling, I brought the sword down, and saw the blade had now completely gone, chipped hilt edges the only sign metal had grafted wood. Time was running out.
Once a bright and promising life, a conscious fragment was all that remained. Her broken body lay fathoms beneath us. The knowledge of her dawned and I wept. In fading echos she'd filled my life... and now I was losing. Again.
I fought back anguish. Her gaze never wavered as she smiled, completely unaware what had transpired. Some comfort in that. The tuxedoed man stared silently. He would soon pass on, but it seemed she had one last act to play out in this final journey.
The room swirled again and we were back in that eight foot box of twisted iron figures, which I now recognized as ship wreckage. The tuxedo man was gone. She was sitting in the same chair, her brown hair now flowing whimsically as if she were standing on the bow, a gentle wind tossing the strands about. Next to her was the technician I’d befriended over many sessions. I recognized this part as more than a mere construct - it was memory, a last piece of consciousness bubbling to the surface.
"Do you think…?” She asked him, then trailed off.
“Yeah.”
I could feel her letting go.
“I'm a little nervous.”
“Who knows how long the research grant will last. After that-“ he shrugged.
“Yeah.” She paused. “Ok, I’ll ask him out after.”
“Good luck."
I closed my eyes, and let the dream end. The pain, the joy, the emotions of the last hour ebbed out of me, and I awoke.
She had crossed... but not completely gone.
"Goodbye, Emily."