This is completely fictional. Sort of…

One of Those Dreams

I immediately knew I was having one of those dreams again.

The one where I’m working hard on a project at my desk and nothing—absolutely nothing—is going right. I was at my notebook scribbling words and thoughts I thought I wanted to share, and then turning around and crossing them out, drawing frustrated black lines through everything.

Ugh. Why am I even doing this? Why am I even here?

And it’s bad enough in real life. Is it necessary to dream about this too?

In my frustration, I nearly knocked over my cup of tea with my elbow. A few drops splashed onto my notebook, soaking brown into the paper. I just nearly avoided disaster.

Then, a warm scent hit my nose. Rosemary mixed with something…sweeter? I bent over and gave my tea a sniff. The scent was not coming from my tea. I was drinking lemon ginger—

A breeze skittered up the back of my neck, and I felt like…like I was being watched. I turned to see that the glass patio door to my studio was left slid wide open with blinds fluttering. And standing there was a large and quite beautiful white dog.

I looked at the dog sternly as it stood near the threshold.

“Don’t you come in here,” I said. The dog lifted one of his pristine white paws.

“Don’t you—”

Then he stepped inside.

“Didn’t you hear me?” I said, putting down my pen. “You can’t be in here. You’re not even my dog!”

The dog sat resolutely, staring at me calmly with clear blue eyes. I got up from my chair and approached him, but as I came closer, I was stunned by how big he was. I’m not that tall of a woman anyways, but the top of his head came to my chest.

For a moment I wondered if “dog” was the right word for him. Maybe “wolf” would be a better fit? But I had never seen an actual wolf before, so I wasn’t sure.

But in any case, he seemed composed and friendly enough. Maybe with a gentle push, I could get him to leave.

I put my hands into his soft, thick white fur, not expecting it to feel so warm and staticy, like a sweater fresh out of the dryer. An energetic charge crawled up my arm as I gently gave him a push.

“Hey, leave.”

He was stronger than I expected. He didn’t budge at all, still looking at me with his cool ocean blue eyes as if I was the one with the problem.

I gave him another gentle push.

“Could you just move?”

No effect. His resistance was solid. And I couldn’t help feeling like he wanted—to stay with me. But there was no way that I could possibly keep some random dog that walked into my house. On top of that, I wasn’t even allowed to keep pets anyways, thanks to my landlord. I didn’t want to push the dog too hard, but he was leaving me with no choice.

I gathered my breath and pushed him with all that I had.

“Get out!”

With that, I felt him give way, vanishing like a candle being blown out from under my hands, taking his warmth with him.

Morning light seeped through my eyelids. My hands clutched at the bed sheets. Strangely, my fingers still tingled, as if he had left remnants of himself with me. But even more strange, was the regret that grew like a hole in my chest.

I had ideas now. Ideas worth writing. I’ll grab my notebook after I have some breakfast, I thought to myself.

And I also thought that although it was a dream, I should have let him stay. He really didn’t seem like he wanted to leave.

Meeting at the Lake

I walked through a dark forest of mirrors in my pajamas and completely barefoot.

Each tree held glimmering panes in place of bark, some cracked, some clear, but each one reverberating with detached reflections. My own face blinked back at me in a thousand different moods—laughing, crying, curious, asleep…

This forest was very unflattering. If only I could look somewhere that didn’t have a reflection of my disheveled, freshly crawled out of bed, self.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the leaves above whispered in an unfamiliar language, rustling like pages softly turning. They were probably talking about me.

As I carefully walked on, I noticed that in the distance, a light flickered, as if signaling a break in this forest of awkward reflections. I was drawn towards it, in hopes of finding some kind of direction. Eventually I came to a circular clearing of trees.

At the center stood a freestanding door, carved from dark wood and etched with gold veins that pulsed gently like a heartbeat. I also noticed that it was left slightly cracked open. An invitation. This door was just asking me to step inside.

So, I did.

Suddenly, I was walking across the surface of a quiet lake—my feet never quite touching the water, yet sending out ripples with every step. The sky above was velvet and starlit, but stars also swam below, as if the universe had inverted.

I noticed that my path was illuminated, and when I glanced over my shoulder, a floating lantern drifted next to me, giving off a honey-colored glow.

And then, ahead—he appeared. The dog.

Or should I say, the wolf?

He sat tall, calm, and even stately—atop a mirrored platform that rose just slightly above the lake’s surface. And there was that scent again. Rosemary along with something sweet that I found familiar but couldn’t name.

I immediately felt relief at seeing him. I knew this all was just some crazy dream, but I was really feeling regret over our last meeting. Back then I just wasn’t…ready. But at seeing him again, I knew that pushing this dog away was a big mistake. Me and this creature—we belonged with each other.

I approached him quickly, my steps quiet across the waters.

“Hey, I’m sorry about last time,” I said. “Is there a way I could make it up to you?”

He turned his head and eyes towards me, but other than that, he remained mostly still.

I wrung my hands, inwardly berating myself for my sudden shyness. He was only an animal, but for some reason, I feared rejection.

“Is it okay if I hug you?”

The cold look in his eyes actually softened, and his ears sprung up some. This beast—he could understand me. Sensing that it was okay, I reached out and wrapped my arms around him. His white fur crackled with electricity. The charge climbed up into my hair, like some invisible hand. Even when I had let go, every part of me tingled.

After accepting my apology, the dog relaxed, laying down and resting his head on his paws. I sat next to him, looking out into the night, occasionally running my fingers through his fur and feeling the shocks between my fingers.

“I would like to know what you are,” I said with quiet wonder. “And what you are thinking.”

He didn’t move at all in response to my words. Letting out a sigh, I moved my gaze to the shimmering lake. Reflections seemed to be the unfortunate theme of this dream. I could see myself in the water, my black curly hair wild and messy. I probably had puffy bags under my eyes too. Tired of seeing myself, I looked at the reflection of the dog laying next to me instead.

Except, the reflection wasn’t that of a dog at all. I was so startled that I leaped to my feet, but yet when I looked next to me, he still was just a dog. But the water was showing me…

I stepped off of the platform and onto the lake to take a closer look. I was right. He may be a dog, but his reflection was that of a man.

Intrigued, I reached out to touch the image. But as soon as my finger made actual contact with the water, I was pulled in. Or pushed in. Maybe it was both. But either way, I went from walking on the water to falling into it.

The world whirled around me, stars and sky, until I wasn’t falling at all, but sitting again—a bit sprawled out like I had tripped in the aisle of a grocery store. I didn’t get wet at all, and the smooth surface of the lake laid out under me once again. Little ripples skittered across the water as I tried to push myself back up.

And as I did so, that’s when I saw him. He stood where the dog used to be, cloaked in a loose fitting robe that shimmered with the color of wet ink and exposed one of his shoulders. He had skin like soft moonlight, eyes blue like the ocean, and hair long and white like ocean foam. His presence was still, but not cold.

Yet in the water, I didn’t see the reflection of a man, but of a white furred, blue eyed dog standing at attention. In either form, he was striking. I could only gape.

But he spoke, his voice like distant thunder softened by the sea.

“You said that you would like to know what I am, and what I’m thinking. The only way I can tell you is like this.”

I hate to admit it, but seeing him being human-ish was way more shocking than seeing him as a dog. But I just couldn’t stand there totally dumbstruck. I had to say something.

“Are…are you cursed?”

First, his eyes grew wide from surprise. But then he chuckled a bit shyly, hiding his laughter behind a large black sleeve of the silky robe he wore.

“Ah, no. Actually, you’re the cursed one here.”

I furrowed my brows, feeling deeply disturbed. “No, that’s impossible. All of this isn’t real.”

He made a gesture towards our surroundings. “This is whatever you want it to be, but the truth still remains. You were under a curse.”

I could only swallow. I had no idea what was going on, but I could feel that he was right. But he said that I “were” under a curse, like it was something in the past. Maybe there was still some hope for me…

“W-what kind of a curse was it?” I dared to ask. I couldn’t believe I was actually asking about something so—illogical. But I did.

At my question, his face fell serious, even a bit pained, but he still held a compassionate warmth.

“Your curse is that you had…you had forgotten about me.”

This hit me as a bit suspicious. Maybe there was a good reason for my not remembering.

“I…I still don’t know who you are.”

“Oh, yes. You do,” he said, with a soft uptick in the corners of his lips. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be able to see me.”

He stepped down from the platform and around him bloomed nightflowers—yellow and silver-lipped blossoms that opened slowly as he approached where I stood on the lake.

Out of the flowers came glimmers of light…no. They were fireflies.

“Look closely at their glow,” I heard him say.

At first I hesitated, wondering if he was going to put some kind of weird brain-washing enchantment on me. But after letting out a breath, I did as he said. I looked closely at the halos that surrounded the fireflies, and suddenly, I could see moments: the poems I wrote and never showed, the dream journals under my bed, the sketches I made in the margins of things.

They floated between us like fireflies.

“You made these,” he said, finally.

“I forgot,” I whispered.

He came closer, and the fireflies flitted away, their glow dimming.

“I’m here to help you remember.”

I looked at him, eyes wide. And there was that ache again, the ache that reminded me of my own truth and felt like—regret.

“Who are you?”

He rested a hand over his heart and lowered his head.

“I’m the one who protects and carries your magic when you forget you have it.”

Then he carefully lifted his eyes to me and added, “I’m everything that you’ve forgotten about yourself.”

At that moment, I felt pure heartbreak. Like discovering a favorite mug full of nostalgia and meaning had been smashed to the floor and broken without my knowledge, and I was just finding the pieces. I didn’t know if I should cry or laugh. So I did neither.

Instead I put on a faint smile, but he could see through it. I knew that there was nothing I could hide from this strange and unexpected…reflection of me?

But despite that, he smiled in return with shared understanding—deep, ancient, and full of quiet power.

“Come to me in the garden. There’s more for you to remember.”

There was a noticeable fading falling over my vision and the sound of his voice. I was slipping away—on the cusp of waking. But I couldn’t wake up! I needed to hold on, just for a little bit longer…

“Where’s the garden? How do I get there?” I said, my voice edged with desperation.

“Don’t worry about it,” I heard his smooth voice come in the growing darkness. “Just meet me there.”

Morning light.

I could still hear him in my mind.

There would be no chance of us ever meeting like that again. All of this was just my mind diving into illusion. I was sure of it.

Story continues with The Garden…