Impossible Things

It started small, so small she didn't even notice anything irregular. In the mornings there would be a glimmer of something, a small flutter of recognition, her mind trying to force her to acknowledge and remember but by the time she sat up it all melted away. She had never been able to remember her dreams and she supposed that was why she was so fascinated with them. The idea that her mind could take her away, show her impossible things, present her with new worlds and people entranced her but no matter how hard she tried she could never remember what she dreamed in the morning light. She desperately wished she could, if only so this nagging feeling in her gut would go away, the feeling that told her she was missing something, that there was something important she needed to remember but just couldn’t figure it out. This feeling that she was wrong and didn't truly belong here. She knew without knowing how that if she could just remember a dream, that feeling would go away.

One day she awoke seeing eyes in her mind. That was all, no other features or anything else about where or why she saw and, somehow, knew those eyes. They were familiar to her though, as familiar as if she were staring into the mirror at her own but these eyes were ice blue instead of the deep brown that rested in hers. They were so pale they almost seemed to be touched by white and they burned into her through her mind. Even without other facial queues, the almond shaped eyes seemed angry to her, they had a fire burning in them that felt familiar enough to not scare her but still worried her. She felt concerned for the owner of the eyes, as if she knew of this person's temper and how it could get them into trouble, but she had never seen those eyes in her life. Still they haunted her all day as she went about her routine, unconsciously searching each person who passed her for those eyes.

The next day she woke up with a smirk, not on her own face but in her mind. Thin lips lifting slightly in one corner, a signal of triumph. She didn’t know how she knew that, that that smile meant the person had figured something out, she just knew. Just as she knew the lips belonged to the same face as the eyes. She felt a strange sense of pride that the owner of the lips and eyes had figured out whatever problem they had been working on. She still saw the eyes, oddly separate from the mouth, the fire in them still ignited but it was softer, it seemed to burn with hope instead of rage. It calmed her, made her feel like everything was going to be ok. As she floated through her day, she felt herself waiting for something, she couldn’t tell you what, but her mind was telling her to wait, that something was coming, that everything would right itself soon. She didn’t bother searching strangers for the eyes or the mouth, something deep inside her told her they wouldn’t come today and she believed it even without having to fully acknowledge it.

Sitting straight up in bed, gasping, whatever her mind had shown her that had startled her awake melting away and all she was left with was a face. Their face. The face that held the icy blue eyes and the thin lips, accompanied by a thin nose, high cheekbones, blonde hair. He smiled at her, a true smile that crinkled his eyes and softened his whole face. The blue of his eyes danced and almost seemed to glow, excitement pouring out of them, promising her that today was the day. The day for what, she didn’t know.

As she prepared for work she thought about the man, trying to remember the dream that had brought her his face, trying to remember where she had seen him before. She felt like she knew him, his face was far too familiar to her for him to be a construct of her own imagination. She had heard once that every person you see in your dreams, you’ve seen in your waking life, your mind just didn’t fully process the person at the moment. She would have remembered seeing this man, though, she was sure of it.

She left her apartment and began her walk to the small diner she worked at, taking a good look at every man who passed her on the street. None were him, of course, and as she entered the diner she began to second guess herself. Why was she so sure she would meet him today? Why was she so sure she would meet him at all? Maybe he really was just a figment of her imagination.

Work was dull and as she flitted about, mindlessly taking orders, clearing tables, and refilling coffees, she got lost in daydreams. Her mind taking her from this dingy little diner to an old tiny pub, her comfortable work pants changing into a simple gown with a flowy skirt. The patrons became gentlemen she had known her whole life, teasing her about the prince of the land, who she now gave the face of her dreams, whose attention she had recently seemed to have caught, loudly wondering if he would be in again today. She settled behind the counter, the lunch rush dying along with her daydreams, resting her head into her hand with a sigh. A flash of blonde hair out of the corner of her eye made her jump but it was just some woman passing by the window.

“What's got you so jumpy today?” her coworker, Mary, asked, leaning beside her.

Feeling silly she told Mary of her daydreams and of the man, the prince from some forgotten world. Mary smiled at her, told her how charming he seemed and that it was a shame he wasn’t real. 

"Yeah. It really is a shame." She muttered while a small voice whispered in the back of her mind that he was real.

Just as she was preparing to head home for the evening the bell above the door jingled and she looked up, her whole body stiffening as chills danced down her spine. Surprised icy blue eyes stared back at her, blonde hair fluttered in the wind that kissed across her face, thin lips lifted in that triumphant smirk again. She turned to tell Mary that that man was the prince from her dreams but she was just met with a confused stare.

"What man?" Her coworker asked.

She looked to the door again but he was gone. Her eyes frantically scanned the diner but the man wasn't inside. Muttering a quick goodbye she rushed for the door but all she found on the street was the still summer air. Maybe she was hallucinating, getting too swept up in her daydreams. Halfway home she heard a whisper, no louder than a breeze and she spun around on her heel.

"Rose." The wind seemed to murmur into her ear.

She watched the street, waiting, but there was no one there. Someone had to be messing with her, but even as she thought it, she knew it couldn't be true. She had never told anyone about Rose. Despite her name actually being Sasha, she had always dubbed herself Rose in her daydreams, a whole persona she had built in her mind. A woman in the midst of a tragic love story, at war with a warlock king who was trying to corrupt the land and gain absolute power, she fought alongside the king's son, who rebelled against his family for her. The only way someone would know about Rose was if they could somehow read her thoughts. Another chill swept down her spine as she turned and hurried the rest of the way to her apartment, the man's blue eyes haunting her every step.

She searched her entire apartment trying to track down the smell. It was faint but it was there, never growing stronger or lighter no matter what room she stood in. It wasn't unpleasant, she just didn't know what it was. It was the scent of a summer evening, touched with wildflowers and grass, rain lingered with it, electric and soft like a bad storm had just settled. It was a scent she felt she had known her entire life and yet, she couldn't figure out where it had come from.

Finally giving up, she fell on her couch, determined to ignore it just as she was ignoring the little voice nagging at her that the time had come. Just as she was ignoring the goosebumps that had prickeled up her arms and the way the hair on the back of her neck was standing on edge, like someone was behind her. She could ignore all of it, pretend that nothing unusual was going on, but a knock on her door confirmed the feeling in the pit of her stomach was correct.

Her heart began to race as she stared at the old white wood, her skin almost aching as every cell in her body told her to open the door. Every instinct she had was telling her this was what she was waiting for, that all her questions would be answered when she opened the door.  A second knock brought motion into her feet as she reached out with a trembling hand to twist the doorknob. Her hair tickled her face as if moved by a soft breeze as she swung the door open, coming face to face with the man, the prince from her daydreams.

"Rose." He breathed out, a smile softening all his hard edges.

She tried to respond but her voice caught in her throat, meeting the man's sparkling eyes seemed to have knocked the wind out of her. He slowly reached out, the backs of his fingers grazing over her cheek bone, catching tears she didn't understand the reason behind. As he made contact with her skin she was almost brought to her knees, a lifetime invading her mind. The small old pub, the prince presenting her flowers, walking her home, him showing off how he could produce light from his hand during dusk, dancing together in a moonlit field. As she threw herself into his arms and sobbed into his shoulder she saw it all. His fathers disapproval, the arguments between them, his whispered promises that they would be together, his fathers insistence that he keep the bloodline pure and not tarnish it with a commoner, the war that loomed on the horizon from his fathers power hungry ways.

"James." She managed to say between the sobs that wracked her body.

A hard wind blew around them and the smell she had noticed in her apartment intensified. Everything about that life fell away as she looked up into James’ face. He now had a scar across his cheek that hadn't been there before, a souvenir of the war. The war he had hidden her away from, sent her off in the middle of battle so that she would not be used against him. His father had been ruthless and they knew it was only a matter of time before she became a target. James crafted a potion that would sweep her away to a place only he could find if that became the case. They had only moments after their spy informed them that that time had come. There was an explosion, fire burned away at their tent as James threw the bottle to her. Just as she emptied it the horses came and James was tackled as she began to fade and her entire life melted into a dream.

"Welcome home." James whispered to her and she finally tore her eyes from his face.

They were in the same field she had vanished from but there were no signs of a battle. The war was done, James had won otherwise she would still be in that strange land, haunted by dreams and visions she couldn't remember of this place she now couldn't imagine forgetting. As James led her down the familiar path that would truly take her home, she sighed. James’ fingers laced with hers as he told her of the end of the war and how his army had brought peace back to their land. She squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in what seemed to be a lifetime.