The Bluest Blue

He was walking in a forest thick with trees, walking with the tireless energy that dreams give you, arms swinging casually at his side. He knew it was a dream because everything in his environment was devoid of color, as if he were viewing his dreamscape through a filter, or as if he'd stepped into a black-and-white movie, the type his ex-girlfriend couldn't stand.

Everything was colorless, except for the trees -- they were black, and they loomed against the sky in a menacing way. He walked faster, knowing with the prescience that comes with the unconscious that something important lay ahead, something vital. What it was, he didn't know, but he knew he'd recognize it when he saw it. Of this much he was sure, and the certainty quickened both his pulse and his step.

Suddenly, he broke through the trees and came into a clearing that was bisected by a narrow stream. It bubbled and gurgled, the sound of it like a woman's laughing voice. The stream was bright blue, almost neon. To stare at it hurt the eyes, but still he stared. Drawn, despite himself.


"Where am I?" he thought aloud, and there came the answering voice: "You are home."

He spun around to face the source of the voice, and as he turned, he thought to himself, "I think I know that voice from somewhere..."

When Brian came to, his skin was covered in cold sweat. The sheets were sticking to his legs in an unpleasant manner, and he kicked them off. For a while, he just lay there, willing his pulse to slow down. Why did he have the sense that something catastrophic was about to happen?

As he lay in bed, listening to the sounds of early morning outside his window, he tried to remember his dream.

There were black trees. He recalled the juxtaposition of the black branches against the colorless sky. He also remembered a blue stream. It was the bluest blue he’d ever seen.

Suddenly his reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door. Brian got up and pulled on some pants before opening the door. A young woman stood there. She was wearing over-sized black sunglasses and a long, white gown. Her black hair was plaited with red ribbons and intertwined with roses. She looked somehow both romantic and foreboding at once.

Before Brian could regain his speech, the stranger took off her sunglasses, revealing vivid blue eyes. Eyes the same color as the stream from his dream.

The End

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