Path of the Vampire forum

THINGS ARE OFTEN CLEARER in retrospect. One can replay and revisit the past as often as they like, consider each element carefully. I should have done this, could have done that, should have avoided that. Hindsight, as they say, is 20/20.

More so when events are measured in moments, in eyeblinks. Fractions of seconds forever lost, except to the fallible mind of those who witness it.

In this sense, the present is often less clear than the past, and I think even that is an understatement. Time forces the present to continue on, preventing careful analysis of an event that requires moments to decide. Even those who believe they think at great speeds are hindered by the simple fact that time moves forward inexorably, and cannot be halted. It forces the events onwards, and can create lost opportunities. Yes, time can stretch, or our perception of it can, but nothing short of magik can halt it, and we are forced to choose, act, or miss the moment.

Add to this that most thinking beings are creatures of perception, and this clouds things further. In an eyeblink, certain details may not be available that the second or even third or fourth eyeblink can provide. And we become limited in this manner, forced to act without being able to see the greater picture, so to speak. A child stands behind a criminal as a policeman fires his weapon in self-defense. A knife's blade shatters on an unseen shield. A clear opening is missed as a drop of perspiration covers an eye.

Add again passion and emotion, and the cloud further thickens. Desires can distort judgement, hinder proper analysis that already has so little time to work with. A quick burst of fear shakes a steady hand. The sight of a familiar face stalls the pull of a trigger. Compassion turns aside a killing stroke at the last moment. Indecision seizes the muscles in the arm just long enough to miss the window of opportunity.

Moments. Some things can be decided in moments.

This is one of the things that I believe, put into words that I have tried my best to put together. I am not altogether sure that I have clearly defined things, that I have explained enough. Neither am I entirely sure why I need to do so; again I write to an audience of one, someone who would clearly understand what I mean as it is the same mind that wills these words into the electronic ether.

But here it is in writing: a moment can decide a lifetime. The consequences of an eyeblink can last forever. Hesitation, distraction, passion, emotion; unguarded and careless, they can result in costs that we later realize are unwilling to pay. But by then, we have no choice in the matter anymore.

I am not sure why I am in such a mood.

Yes, I destroyed that mooncalf. Though I will admit that I am unsure if I destroyed the same one, or another. Regardless, I feel that my vengeance is satisfied, my pride is soothed.

It was even easier than I thought it would be, especially since I came with purpose and several full clips. And also because I was neither caught unaware, nor was I confused as to what I was facing. I was prepared, I was ready. Then it fell and...

Is died an appropriate term? It's the closest one, aside from "destroyed" I suppose. But was that creature truly alive? Perhaps, in its component parts, it once was. But as the creature, it only possessed a mockery of life, a bare shadow of it.

Yes, I realize that the same can apply to myself and my kind.

I PURCHASED ANOTHER HANDGUN recently, another companion to Aqi and Ivy. In the past, when I purchased the second of the pair, I could still justify it as having a backup weapon, a second pistol I could carry loaded so I wouldn't need to worry about reloading for the time it took me to empty a clip from each weapon. I told myself that I would only ever carry both if I expected trouble, though, like that time we raided a building that had been taken over by Fae.

Of course, back then, I was happily picking up whatever weapon I could if I needed one, and reloaded fairly quickly that I had started to alternate between the two, trying not to show any particular favor. I would hate to think that my ladies could turn against me if I showed any kind of favoritism, but I still try to make an effort.

I did have some old memory of myself as Xian, where I would spend time imagining holding a pair of Glocks or Berettas. Being all Gangsta, feeling the role I was playing at the time. Or he was playing at the time. Anyway. The innocence and naivete of youth.

I've since realized that using two handguns at once is no more efficient than using one handgun. In fact, it generally reduces efficiency, except possibly with someone with supernatural reflexes and dexterity. But even then, it required using both hands, and I've found I liked having a free hand available to either reach for another clip, or for one of the knives I tried to always carry.

I guess I justified buying Kith by admitting, to myself, and not to my ladies, that I needed something with a little more stopping power. Now, Aqi and Ivy are both excellent at dealing with regular threats, and I've used them to take down Fae and Hunters. But after that fail of a night against that mooncalf, I realized that there would be other threats, greater threats.

Much like Aqi and Ivy, Kith was a beauty of a handgun, and he even shared some of the same basic design lines as my first pair. No real surprise there, as Aqi and Ivy were based on the Glock series of handguns, same as Kith, and also because the same gunsmith crafted all three. Of course, where Aqi and Ivy were slim and sleek, Aqi being the smaller of the two, Ivy having the larger clip size, Kith was almost unashamed at being more robust. Chambered for .44, he had to be, which also meant he had the smallest clip size of the three.

I was a little concerned about this, but decided that the power of the .44 was an even trade for needing to reload more often. And besides, more often than not, things could be decided in the time it took to empty a clip, or at the most, two. And if I ever needed more, except perhaps during another raid, I probably would be packing all three of them.

Of course, I could never wear Kith concealed, except if I develop some sort of ability to conceal him. I could confuse minds, divert their attention, but it would be too exhausting to do it just so I could bring him around. No, Kith would only come out for either the firing range, or for special nights.

I was a little concerned that the other two would throw some sort of tantrum - Aqi did feel a little temperamental when she first met Ivy. But it seems that they accepted their brother easily enough. Likely recognizing that he was not another competitor for my affections.

Does it sound strange that I talk about them like this? That I believe them to have wills, and thoughts? I think I've already mentioned before that I admit it's strange. But then again, so is writing this journal when I'm the only one who will ever see these words.

But that's the way it is.

IT'S BEEN QUIET for months now. After the last flurry of activity that he somehow managed to keep from my awareness, Xian just suddenly shut down again. No journal entries, no philosophical ramblings. He just closed his eyes that night, and I woke up the next one.

I've tried to go through his journal to get some clue as to what happened, but some entries, the most recent ones, have been locked away from me. Has he finally found out that I'm back here with him? Or has he always known and just ignored the fact?

Or has his paranoia reached new heights? Quite possible. I recall some rambling thoughts about him being afraid that someone had hacked his mind. Ridiculous, but then again, I'm a dead thing writing a blog to myself using the power of my mind into the psychic ether. And recently, I heard about a vampire that turns into a viscious rabbit.

So, ridiculous kindof comes with the territory.

I don't know if I should be worried. I think I am, or I may not have bothered to start writing again. Most of what put down into words in the past were because I was trying to taunt him into realizing that I was back here. And when he shut down, I sort of shut down too. But at least I didn't shut out the world.

In a sense, it's been fun. It's almost like I'm a real boy, ha! Not having to hear him worry and panic all the time's kindof refreshing. Actually being able to stretch my legs every night has been good for what passes for my soul.

At the very least, I've been able to explore and understand this city more than if he was in charge half the time. Can't say I completely get it, but it's been a blast just watching it all pass me by.

I've mostly been avoiding other vampires, though. I mean, the other Vedarians, they're cool. They're used to seeing me come in, get out, a simple nod of the head, and all that. Maybe some of them are wondering what's come over Xian. But I'm not him, so I don't worry about that.

I think a number of them have actually realized that fact, though they just don't know what to do or say about it. What's to be done? What's to be said? I wouldn't know what to say. I would leave myself alone as well.

Why am I writing all this? I don't know.

Maybe I'm hoping it will wake him up. It's been fun, it's been a blast, but, somehow, I mean, for someone who's two people in his head, I don't quite feel complete anymore.

Dammit, you ********. What did you do, anyway?

IT IS STRANGE being all alone in here. Ever since the first day I was aware of what I was and who I was, I've never been alone until now. It's strange, though that's not saying much.

I find myself thinking more, mulling over things that, normally, Xian would consider worth hours and hours of theories and research. I haven't quite reached that point, and I don't expect I will. Though I am catching myself acting a little bit more like him these nights.

It makes me actually wonder if I dreamed him all up. Or if I was the dream, but now I'm living a nightmare, banished into a false world by the one who made me. That would mean everything I've experienced in the past few months hasn't been real. That would mean nothing I see and feel is real.

I wonder. That's a little of what Xian did to himself the few times I was in charge while he was diving through the web, or pondering the meaning of unlife. He created a false reality where he thought he was lying down on his bed while he scanned the 'net. But, really, I was walking the city, hunting, or playing, or watching.

Has all that really been false all this time?

When I reach out with my mind, nothing seems any less real. But if I am a construct, then I really wouldn't know how to determine was was real to begin with, would I? Real would be what I would expect real to be.

But, if I'm a lie, and everything around me is a lie, what would it matter, if I believed it was real anyway? If nothing I know exists is real, except in the mind of a flawed creator, what does it matter? I believe it is. I perceive it is. I see, I feel, I touch, I experience. That's enough.

For now.

The other alternative is: what if I was mistaken about our relationship from the beginning? What if, when Charlotte made me, and the blood chose to twist me, it created me first. What if, I am the "real" Xian? And Xian is actually my Other?

What if, when I was first made, I took a long look at myself, and I didn't like what I saw. And I decided to make a new me in the image of myself from the time I was alive. Someone innocent, confused, paranoid, ignorant. Curious, excitable, passionate.

What if I wasn't happy with myself that I had to create a reason to be happy with myself? A purpose, a reason for being the monster I saw? To protect this innocence, this ignorance?

And what if, now that I find myself purposeless, I will eventually drift off to further insanity? What if Xian was the anchor I needed, the one that kept me (relatively) sane?

Not that I feel any different. Not that I'm really depressed, or sorrowful. I do miss not being alone. There was always this hum when he was around. There as always a buzz while he ruminated, pondered, theorized, considered. Even when I found it annoying, I guess it was comforting.

And maybe I miss that now.

I'VE BEEN DREAMING the same dream lately. Which I find strange, because usually it's Xian who does the dreaming, and I just... fade? What do I do when I'm not awake? Guess I'm not really sure, and I haven't really bothered to think about it until now. Maybe during the day, we're more mixed up together than we realize, and we're not me and him. Just a single "me" instead.

Meh. He's the one who's better at this kind of stuff. I don't even know why I bother to think about it. Except I sometimes end up starting to think about it, then I get lazy and want to go shoot something instead.

Oh yeah. The dream.

I'm walking through a field of grass, tall enough that it brushes my ankles, but not tall enough that it reaches my knees. You know how dreams start in the middle of things, and things never quite make sense about how you got there, or what you're doing there, but it doesn't really matter? I guess that's how it was. I was in the middle of a field of grass, and I had no idea why I was there. But I was supposed to be there for some reason, so it was all good.

I'm sure this all makes sense to Xian. I'm just going with whatever comes.

So, in the dream, above me, the sky is dim, but not dark. It's overcast, and the sun is up, but I'm not burning, and I'm not asleep. I've heard some of my kind can do that, but I can't, not yet, at least. Besides, I think I like having to sleep during the day.

Anyway, the sun is up, but the sky is dim. There are shadows around me, cast by lower clouds, and nearby trees. There are other things around me as well, higher from the ground than the grass, but just as irregular in height. Cold, hard, dark things, reaching from the ground, trying to pierce through the sky, but fated to ever fail.

Heh. I'm poetic. Go figure.

Anyway. Tombstones. I realize that all around me, scattered in some pattern are markers for the dead. Somehow, I didn't recognize them at the point of the dream I realized they were there, and for a moment, I thought they were small creatures following me from a distance. But there they were grave markers, made of stone and its siblings, in different shapes and sizes. Each one the spot where someone had been long dead and buried.

In the dream, I felt a shiver down my spine, and I take a breath. Am I human in the dream? Maybe. Even now, I'm not too sure.

I continue walking through the grassy field of graves, and I get the feeling that each step has a purpose, that I'm heading somewhere. But I don't know where I'm going. Maybe I'm just along for the ride, and I'm not at all in control. Wouldn't be surprising. This is a dream, after all. And, sometimes, when Xian's in charge, that's all I do: watch without a choice. That's not a complaint, though. That's just how it is, sometimes.

I start to recognize other things flitting among the tall grass and tombstones. First, that I am surrounded by a rainbow of colors other than green and grey. Some are scattered among the grass, while others move about just above them, careless and almost clumsy. Flowers and butterflies. Colors on the ground, and colors in the air above them.

I look at some, but I've never been into butterflies. I don't recognize a single one. Xian's more the type to have a butterfly collection. At least, he'd have the patience for it. Though I have read that some psychotics start with butterfly collections. Then they move to bigger things. And bigger things.

Am I psychotic? Probably not. Psychotics aren't typically empathetic, and are hopelessly self-serving and selfish. I don't think I'm specially empathetic, but I'm not uncaring either. And, yeah, I can be selfish. Specially if it's a choice between keeping myself alive and keeping someone else alive.

But I'm telling the story of the dream, so back to it.

In the dream, just as I name the flowers and butterflies, a thought comes to mind: that for each butterfly, there's a first flower, and for each flower there's a first butterfly. That a butterfly, once it emerges from its cocoon, eventually finds its very first flower. And that for each flower, once it blooms, its first butterfly eventually finds it. At least that's how it is in a "perfect" world.

And then I start to think about how that sounds so much like a person's first kiss. That we never know who our first kiss will be, but eventually, we have our first kiss with someone. More than likely, we won't be that person's first kiss, but it's possible. Just like it's possible that a newly bloomed flower will have a freshly-emerged butterfly as mutual firsts.

That would be a more "perfect world," I thought to myself. And then some part of me goes, "say, what, now?" That's usually the part that's more me.

But, seriously, I swear, that's what I was thinking about while I was walking through a grassy graveyard in my dream. I'd think it was from eating a nighttime burrito at three in the morning before going to bed, but I don't eat. And, technically, I've never eaten anything in my life. So I guess, in that dream, I'm me, but I'm not me.

Story of my life, heh.

Anyway, I'm daydreaming about the first kisses of butterflies and flowers as I continue to walk through the grass, and I finally come to a stop. I've reached my destination. It's a tombstone that's become worn with age, the name barely readable from the weathering of sun, sky, and rain. I stop and look at this tombstone, and I realize that beneath me is the dead body of someone that died an age ago. The grass is tall here, as it is everywhere. Nobody has been buried here in a long while.

There's some sort of ivy covering the tombstone, so I kneel down and I reach out to take some of it in my hand. I pull, and the greenery gives easily. There isn't much, so it doesn't take much time. I toss the ivy to the grass beside me, and I trace my fingers in the name etched into the aged stone. There's some thing about not being able to read anything in dreams, and while I can't read it, I recognize the name there. Doesn't make sense, but that's what happens.

What makes even less sense is that I recognize that the name is mine.

So there I am, fingers on my name written on a tombstone older than I am, and some part of me is like, "WTF" but the other part is just taking it all in. Somehow, that other part says it all makes sense. But not me. I'm trying to wake up, trying to shake myself awake, trying to scream at the senselessness of it all. And it's at this point of the dream that I realize that I've dreamt all this before. That this isn't the first time this exact thing has happened.

What do you call dream deja vu?

I'm screaming, but I'm not screaming. Instead, in the dream, I lay down to the ground, beneath the tombstone, on top of the dead person beneath the layers of grass and dirt. I lay down and look up to the darkened sky, and I just lay there, surrounded by grass, flowers, butterflies, graves, and tombstones.

I close my eyes.

And I open my eyes. And I'm awake. We're awake. It's another night. The dream lingers for a little bit, but I have things to do, and I don't really want to think about it. But I did want to write it down, because maybe that'll keep me from dreaming that same dream again.

MY CONTACT IS late, and I'm not really very good at waiting. Xian's off in the 'webs again, doing his Neo thing, I imagine. I can do that too; I just don't really like it. 'Sides, someone has to tend the shop while he's away.

But, seriously, this is pissing me off.

I'd decided a few days ago to send out some feelers about myself. Any files that people might be able to pull on me, videos, pictures, physical or digital, or whatever proof might be around. The few guys I know on the street know me to be paranoid, so it wasn't such a strange request that I ask them to look around. A favor for a favor, if anybody pulls anything up.

I wasn't really sure that they'd find anything. One of the guys I went to is a middling hacker, works in a security company though. Also very good at covering his tracks. Xian was the one who found him, and I made contact some time back. He's good at what he does, so, he's nice and covered. I thought about thralling him, but we can only do one, and Katelyn's been such a nice thrall so far. I had bets on him to find something.

Couple of other guys, one in the government database team, another from the local police. Even talked to that librarian, I mean, who knows, right?

But the one who surprised me was this low-level thug I met on the shooting range. We got into a small bet while shooting, I let him beat me an hour later, but kept it close. Then, since I was the one who lost, I buddied up to him over a couple of beers, just made sure he didn't notice I wasn't drinking any, just passing my bottles over to him when his went low. He's kinda slow. Anyway, he called me early tonight, said he'd found some pictures of me, CCTV stills, from when the mall went boom.

Yeah, I'd love to know what happened back then. I just have a vague memory of going there, not sure why, then I black out just about the time of the explosions, only to wake up slightly singed but not the worse for wear back in the Ved home. So, yeah, lotta questions there, specially since Xian didn't own up to saving our collective ***. Just another reason why I think there's another "me" in here somewhere.

What kind of "me" it is, is anyone's guess. Xian doesn't want to, though. But he did say to go ahead and meet up with the guy. Like I really need his permission.

So, we schedule, and I get all prepped up and pretty-like. Even have one of the sisters in my jacket, just in case. Not that I ever leave home without at least one of them anyway. Come in thirty early to scope the place, make sure it's secure. Eyeball some weirdos and strange people, and I think I even recognized a vamp or two.

And now, it's three hours later, and my buddy hasn't shown up. I'd be worried, but I'm pretty sure he can take care of himself. Unless it was someone bigger or someone with fangs that stopped him. But that would mean either some really bad timing on his part, some bad luck on mine, or maybe, just maybe, someone's got it in for me, and found out some link between me and him.

Of course, I'm paranoid and I can think up of a thousand other possible reasons. And I really don't like thinking like this, I'd rather act. Which is another reason that I'm pissed; not only do I not like waiting, I'm not the type who likes to do a lot of thinking when I'm not doing anything.

Additional proof is that I'm doing this while I'm waiting. This is more a Xian thing than a me thing.

For a while, I was thinking about the horrors I would inflict on him for making me wait. He doesn't really see me as a guy who'd do that kind of thing; thinks I'm just another thug come up from California looking for a place to lay low, maybe find a new crew. Doesn't even suspect that I'm a vamp. So I was thinking about showing some fang, you know? Maybe get him thinking that making me wait isn't ever a good idea.

Then I wonder if I can get him in more subtle ways. I mean, not really my thing most of the time, again, more like Xian's, but hey, time on my hands, devil's workshop, or something like that. Another thing that's not really me: quotes.

I think about maybe visiting his family or something like that. But that's too much of a threat. I want him pliable and helpful, not thinking of ways to remove me as a potential problem to him and his own. Maybe spike his drink, then leave him in the caring arms of some Thai lady boy masseuses. That would be worth a laugh; guy's a bit of a homophobe, though I personally don't care either way. Some of those... guys? girls? are hot.

So I go the full range from downright vindictive to third grader petty. And still he doesn't show.

I start to think about calling this all a bust, and heading back home for the night, then I see him. He walks out of a far corner, hands in his pockets, with a small case in one armpit. He's got a bit of a growing bruise on his left cheek, maybe a sign of what happened to him, why he's late. I decide I won't ask.

I nod at him as he sees me step out of the alleyway, just enough for some light to fall on my face. Then I step back in, the back of a dingy bar near the outskirts of the city. Good enough place for me to get him drunk the last time, and a good enough place to meet, specially if I don't want to make him feel like I'm owing him a huge favor. Just curious, I said to him.

Hope he didn't get into any trouble. He walks in, his face at first the same grimace he usually shows the world. But I know him to be a nice guy, for a thug, at least, and he shows it with this large grin as he walks into the dimly-lit alleyway.

"Hey, X," he says. I return the grin, and step into his friendly hug. Like I said, we got close, which was why I thought I could ask him for this favor easily.

"Hey, man," I pat his back, and step away. He's over six feet, and wide, but almost everybody's bigger than me, so I'm used to it. We both look at the ends of the alleyway, a habit of the street, and then we turn our attentions back to each other. But I know he's alert, as alert as he can be. And my senses are far

"Sorry I'm late, X," he said, with a shrug. "Couldn't be helped." He rubs at the fresh bruise on his cheek slightly, and I see him wince visibly. Looks like he had a job that he couldn't delay. That happens.

I wave it off. "It's all good, you know I know how it goes." And I do. I was young and in a small street gang, and it was more Xian than me, but I know how it goes. Some days, there are some things you just have to do, everything else be damned. I let all my earlier irritation fade away. This guy was a good guy. He'd be a real friend if I'd met him in my human life.

"Anyway, here," he hands me the small case, just as I expected. "I asked a buddy of mine, showed him that pic of you that you gave me. And he found this last night. Doesn't look like much, but he says he can't get the actual CCTV vid. But I'll try to get you more info, if you need it."

I take the case and nod. "No, man, this is good. This is good." I look him in the eye, and nod. "Thanks, man. I owe you."

"Can't stay, can you?" He nods towards the bar, and I can see him almost hoping that I say that I can. I always paid for his drinks before, and I've told him that I always will.

I grin at him. "I talked to Tolley," that was the barman, "and I set up a tab for you, in my name. Like I said, I owe you."

He laughs, but not so loud that it would carry out of the alley. "Thanks, X." he says. "You gonna ever tell me what's up?" He says as we turn towards the end of the alley.

I shrug and pat him on the back. "Maybe, but not tonight." He's a good guy. I don't think he needs to see more of the supernatural than the world has already shown him. "You take care, man." I nod and wave at him, and walk away.

Behind me, I hear the door to the bar, and the other regulars greet him warmly. It was a safe place, as safe as anyplace could be. A good place to be, in a night like this.

But I do have things to do, and places to go.

ANOTHER DREAM TODAY, another dream that I don't understand. Maybe it's just a memory bubbling up from my subconscious, or too much television - what else do you think I do when Xian's up and about? I've actually asked him what he thinks, and, after telling me he's busy, he admitted that he had no idea because he doesn't remember a thing of it. So it was my dream alone.

He did say something about separate cognitive processes, and I tuned him out after a while. Not that I didn't understand him, mind you. It's that he enjoys it so much that it ends up boring me, he may as well be talking to himself.

See what I did there?

Anyway, he did say that it was also possible that the "dreams" are someone elses - that our telepathy goes crazy sometimes during the day. Though that would mean I took on the dreams of someone who's in the night shift. Or maybe another vampire?

The dream.

It starts with me looking down a long, winding road, much like how a road winds around the side of a mountain. Except this road is floating in the air, surrounded by other similar roads like thich tree branches atop a forest. It could actually have been roads on tree branches linked all around a large forest, come to think of it. I didn't think about it in the dream.

It seems to be night, but maybe, if these roads are tree branches, that there are leaves or other branches blocking the light of day. Either way, there seems to be some sort of light, enough to see the road in front of me, and the roads around me, but not enough to see too far in any direction.

I am riding a car, something like an old one-mar race car. One of those cigar-shaped ones. Except this one had side doors. The car is white and sleek. The roads are narrow, just wide enough for two cars like the one I'm riding, with a little space between them.

I've borrowed this car from my father. He doesn't know that I've borrowed it, but I've only borrowed it. I don't know who my father is, but this is his car, and I have to take care of it. I can't get in an accident. I remember thinking all this.

I am driving. I am searching for someone. I don't know who I'm looking for, but I know I'm looking for somebody.

I try to remember the face of who I'm trying to find, and I am in a room. I am surrounded by people, as if in a party, who are all talking to each other in small groups. There is the din of conversation, and nobody really notices me. They're all too wrapped up in their own circles.

I think this is my home, and I am walking to my room. All I know is that I have to get there. When I open the door, there is nobody there, but when I close the door, someone approaches me. I recognize her, and she smiles up at me.

We kiss.

It's an accidental kiss, one where she was aiming to place her lips on my cheek as a greeting. But I move the wrong way, offer a cheek too late, and our lips meet. There is surprise, then there is intent. What should have been a brief meeting stretches on instead. I feel her tongue, and I feel a thrill. I think to myself, I shouldn't be doing this. This is wrong. But it feels right.

Our arms wrap around each other, our hands in the places hands go when lips meet. We pause, and I am breathless, though I know I don't need breath. She is breathless as well. There are embers of passion, one that I know I have never experienced myself.

We stroke the flames once more, our lips greeting each other, tongues playing. This is a surprise for both of us, but it is not an unwanted one. I think to myself that I have wanted this all my life.

We pull apart. She smirks at me. She knows a secret, and she's not sharing it.

Her face vanishes, and I am driving once more. I've returned to the floating road, surrounded by other floating roads, right where I left it. At least that's what I think. I know now who I'm looking for, and I press my foot on the accelerator.

I have to find her. I know that she wants me to find her.

I see other cars like mine. Mine is white, and theirs are of different colors. They are looking for her too, but I know that I have to find her first. But I need to take care, I think to myself, because this is my father's car.

I take a step forward in an open field, and I am looking up at the sky. I count the stars silently, and recognize some of the constellations, though I couldn't tell you which ones I recognized in the dream. I am not alone, I can feel her near me, though I cannot yet see her. She is beside me, looking up at the stars too.

I see myself, and I see her, as only a dreamer can see things: both as part of the scene, and as a viewer of the scene. I think I know at this point that I am in a dream, but I don't really care. I just run with it.

I turn to her and I ask her a question. She laughs, and it is a bright, crystal laughter. I feel myself smile and hear myself laugh as well. It is not the laught that I recognize, but it is my laugh.

Around us, I smell many fragrances, and I think to myself that it must be the season of flowers. Some of the fragrance, I know, comes from her.

She answers my question, and I nod, but I do not hear her answer. At least I don't remember either the question, or the answer to it. But I remember her voice, and a twinkle in her eye. That same coyness and guile. There's a secret between us, and it's something that we cannot ever share with anyone else.

I lean towards her. She leans towards me.

I find myself driving again. But not in the old car that the father I do not know owns. This one is mine, and this one is powerful, large, and dark. I can feel the thrum of the engine as it races through the countryside at night. We pass trees, brush, streams.

We pass a house that I first see as a speck, and last see as the same on the rear-view mirror. I see a moon in the sky - the car has no roof - and the moon reminds me of her.

The moon shines. The stars in the sky sparkle. I need to find her, so I drive on.

I am seated at a bar, alone, a drink in hand. I have been here for hours, and I am tired. I lean forward and say something to the bartender, and he laughs and nods towards something behind me. I turn. It is her. I have found her, but I don't realize it. Her eyes are shining in the dim bar, her slight smile still full of guile and shared secrets. I nod to her, and she sits next to me.

Just seeing her face drives all the exhaustion away. Such a cliche, but that's what happened.

We talk, though I can't remember a single word even thought I tried my best. It probably wasn't important, maybe.

Are we lovers? Are we friends? In the dream, these questions are irrelevant, though the answer to both seem to be yes and no. She laughs again, and I laugh with her.

She touches my arm. I feel a warmth there, that stays even as she takes her hand away.

I look at her, and we are flying in the sky. Our hands touch lightly, and we pass cloud after cloud after cloud. We laugh, and there is nobody around us to stop us from laughing. The darkness around us is insignificant, we have each other.

Who is she?

We are walking through a field, hand in hand. She whispers something, and leans closer, head to my shoulder. We stop walking, and stand there together, infinity stretching on. I want the moment to last forever.

I wake up.