Bambrielle

(2/24/14)

I don’t remember how I got here, and I’m pretty sure that 5 seconds ago I was somewhere else. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, in my room. But it’s not my room. The walls are brick and covered with various posters, the room small but cozy. Strings of round lights hang from the ceiling,, bathing the room in a soft yellow glow, and the bed is low to the ground and layered with blankets. Just how I like it. Something about beds reminds me once again that I don’t remember how I got here when suddenly my mom bursts into the room, startling me out of my confusion. I look at her, bewildered.
“It was a placebo.”
“…what?”
“You weren’t actually high. It was a placebo effect,” She says it matter of factly, like you might tell a friend you answered their phone for them. “I answered your phone.” “What?” “You’re mom called while you were in the bathroom. I answered your phone.”
“…Oh…” I say. And remember something about weak pot, but just as quickly as the thought has come it’s gone again and I realize I need to get going to class.

I stand and rush past her, just now noticing the sounds of car horns and busy streets filtering in form my window. I understand now that my room is made of brick because we live in the city. Walking down the crowded sidewalk I pass the remains of an old brick building maybe a little bigger than the size of a port-o-potty. Curious, I poke my head around the edge of one of the crumbling walls and see a man who looks an awful lot like Desmond form Lost sitting hunched over in the dirt, leaning against the wall.
Stepping forward cautiously I try to make out if he’s hurt.
“Hey,” I say softly “are you alright?”
He lifts his head abruptly as if surprised I stopped to talk to him. He looks a mess, hair tangled, face and clothes covered in dirt. His feet are bare too, and I frown as take in his disheveled appearance. He sees me examining his situation and holds his hands out revealing that he is chained to the wall where he sits. I’m appalled and I guess it was evident on my face because he shakes his head and smiles at me. And just as I’m about to tell him that I can’t get those chains off, he stands up and the chains just fall off. I’m staring in disbelief but the next thing I know he’s hoped up onto the crumbling wall and is looking down at where I stand awe struck.
As he stands there I realize he’s no longer covered in mud in dirt. His hair is fixed and his dirty clothes have turned to pure white, loose-fitting garb. He has an aura now too; shimmers around him like liquid gold and shines like the light of a sunset on water. I’m instantly calmed by his presence and know that I can trust him unconditionally. Part of me wonders if he is Jesus, standing before me here in all his glory. But then I remember this is Desmond I’m looking at and Desmond isn’t Jesus.
He smiles at me again, this time as if I am a child and he is showing me the world for the first time. I guess the open-mouthed expression of awe I was wearing gave him this impression. He beckons to me, then jumps off the wall. I step around the structure and follow him.

As we pass people walking down street, they don’t seem to see us. I’m not sure if it’s because this is the city and the people are used to seeing things as weird as glowing Jesus figures leading dazed college girls to unknown locations, or if Desmond’s aura is just acting as some sort of magic to mask our presence. Ultimately I decide I don’t really care either way.
I follow him until we reach a secluded boat house on a private dock on the water. He leans casually against the wall of the shed, then gestures out toward the ocean before him. On the Horizon, the sun looks hours form setting. I look at him again, he’s smiling that same knowing smile, so I look back out toward the water thinking there must be something here I’m missing. A strong breeze picks up, caressing my face and playing with my hair. Lifting my arms, I suddenly feel the desire to fly. I can feel the wind surging past me, and I imagine what it would be like to run and leap off the railing of the dock, taking flight against the breeze and soaring into the bronze sky. So soft I’m almost not sure I hear it at first, but then louder, a choir is singing a triumphant melody. Their voices are so strong and beautiful that my heart beats faster in my chest and my soul feels like its singing with them. It occurs to me in this moment that I have no idea where this beautiful and inspiring song is coming from and with a start, it hits me. Spinning around I turn back to the man. His eyes are twinkling now and I know it’s because he knows I’ve figured it out.
Turning back toward the swollen eye of the sun, I lift my arms and it feels like they’ve soundly sprouted feathers. Like Icarus. I know I want to fly, I CAN fly, because this is a dream, and in dreams you can do anything you imagine. So I imagine myself running straight off the dock and leaping into flight but then something Canus Lupis said in the pod cast comes back to me. “Before you go leaping off balconies and buildings trying to fly,” he said, “you should be absolutely SURE you are in a dream.” I falter. I know I am in a dream. I KNOW it. But if I leap out there and this isn’t a dream, then I’ll land in the freezing ocean and hitting that frigid water might just be enough to wake me up.
I chew on my bottom lip as I think. I know this is a dream, but better to be safe than sorry. The choir is singing so loud now that I begin to wonder if this inspiring melody isn’t coming from inside my soul. I feel powerful, indestructible, capable of anything. But decide that it wouldn’t hurt to do a breath check. So, taking a deep breath, I reach up to pinch my nose

And wake up in my bed.