Stardust Dreams

There was a time when we were nothing but stardust dreams. It hung suspended for a split second, delicate as a leaf that floated to the ground. Wrapped in the blanket of youth, children in a haze of shared laughter and intertwined fingers.

You wore that flannel shirt, and I was lost in an oversized sweater with more holes than fabric, mirroring the ragged edges of a heart too large for the body it was crammed into. In our tiny universe, there was no room for anything else - only unspoken words and dreams yet undreamed.

We danced on the edge of time, oblivious to the rhythm of ticking clocks and grown-up demands. Our scars were invisible, kept hidden beneath layers of youthful optimism and stubborn defiance.

All we had was the starry sky, twinkling with the promise of a million unseen futures. Each nightfall was a secret we had whispered between us, sealed with a curfew that marked not the end but a beginning.

As the days melted into nights, our innocent laughter was cloaked in the shadows of unspoken thoughts. In that vast expanse of summer, where every heartbeat seemed endless and every whisper a promise, there was one moment that stood apart, shimmering with a different hue. It revealed a path yet to be taken..

That was the summer that everything changed.

The air in the tent was stale, and I hugged my knees closer. It was warm, even for August, but ice gripped at my heart. I wanted to feel something, anything. 

He was there. A chill ran through me and I looked away. I remembered his eyes, colored like the sky and wine, gazing into mine. Had I followed him into the woods? The angry scrapes on my back suggested that I had.

 Even today, I can still feel his touch on my cheek and remember his glance as he led me towards the river. The waxing moon, a silent sentinel, had cast a cold, judgmental light, making my shadows stark and unyielding. Her light had reflected off the stream, birthing hundreds of tiny pixies that had flown over to surround me. Their image had burned into my retinas.

My eyes squeezed shut, and I was back in my tent, surrounded by people, yet alone. I didn’t remember how we got back there.

Then, my vision wavered, and I felt the pull to run far away. I saw a pixie from the night before flit out of my tent and the zipper on the door caught as I tried to tug it down.

Outside, camp mates lounged by the fire, shadows etched on their faces. Their silence spoke volumes, a shared understanding of the depths and shallows of the previous night. I faked a smile and shut my mouth, wishing someone would notice me. Maybe if I hoped hard enough, he would apologize. Instead, I lit my cigarette and inhaled deeply. The sun would set, and the next day it would rise. Nothing that happened mattered.

The dawn, in its golden glory, bathed me with a warmth that felt like a gentle whisper, urging me to move forward despite the weight of the previous night. Around me, the morning was quiet. I continued to walk, observing the crowds as I passed.

I wandered to an area of farmland that was awake. Children were running around barefoot and joyful, with their parents talking in hushed voices. I wondered if that was how it was supposed to be, and a pang of guilt washed over me like a sudden rainstorm.

The treeline loomed ahead, shadows playing tricks on my eyes, and the sound of rushing water echoed in the background, each ripple bringing back haunting memories of the night before.

 My head jammed painfully against a rock, arms pinned, wanting to shout stop, but I just couldn’t keep my eyes open. Part of me died last night with each thrust of his hips.  

A woman was bathing in the stream. The sunlight glinted off her blond hair. Her breasts, dripping with water, sparkled in the morning light. She smiled at me warmly, oblivious to my shame, and her lavender eyes drew me in.

I dipped my toes into the water, feeling its gentle tug. Each ripple, each drop, seemed to beckon me closer — a dance of nature inviting me to cleanse my wounds and see myself anew. As I gazed into the water’s surface, my youthful face stared back at me. She looked so full of hope and innocence, yet I knew better.

After submerging into the bath, the rocky bed proved uncomfortable. But the water flowed over me, washing away my disgrace, all under the dappled light of the sun shining through the trees. 

The woman with lavender eyes rose and headed deeper into the forest, and I followed her. One foot in front of the other, I walked while the birds sang. They forgave me for not being stronger, for not having a voice. The moss was soft here, and I took off my sandals, carrying them in one hand.

I felt lost inside, but here I felt safe. In the distance, there was music. A mournful tune that pierced deep into my soul. The mist rose, and the woman stopped, stretching her hand towards me. When her fingers brushed against mine, warmth spread through my body. She stroked my hair as I wept in her arms.

We walked together towards the music, into the mist. The smell of fresh bread permeated the air, and the tables were laden with fruit and all varieties of cakes and sweets. Shadowy figures moved like lost memories, dancing and laughing — a spectacle of joy seemingly untouched by time’s weight. The music, though played by many, converged into a single haunting melody. Some smiled and acknowledged me, while others, graceful as ballerinas, were lost in their own ecstasy.

The woman handed me a glass filled with honeyed nectar, and I drank it in. She touched my face in the same spot he had, but I didn’t recoil.

A small structure stood beyond the clearing. As I made my way closer, I saw the cottage was part of the earth and nestled into the ground itself. Its doors were open and welcoming. In the corner, a figure sat — an echo of a time less tainted. His auburn hair told tales of sunlit days, and his green eyes reflected my hopes, both lost and yet to be found.

He stood and clasped my hands, then handed me a piece of warm bread. I put it to my lips. Without a word, he led me back to the clearing, where we twirled with the music. We danced and danced until my feet could no longer move. Then he asked me for one more dance. I fell into his arms and we swayed slowly as the music died out. Exhausted, I collapsed to the ground and sleep overtook me.

When I opened my eyes, the companions of the night were gone. Yet, their absence left behind a profound clarity — an awareness of strength and resilience I hadn’t known before. As I trekked back through the woods towards the campsite, the weight of my loneliness felt more pronounced, but it was a weight I realized I had to bear. This solitude was the crucible of my growth. When I emerged from the woods to view acres of pasture, I no longer saw emptiness, but as vast spaces filled with the potential for fresh stories and the fading echoes of the past.