Dreaming of Flowers

The field I was currently standing in was beautiful. 

The grass was long and green, moving like water in the wind. There were clumps of colorful flowers popping up, drawing my eye immediately to them. Some of the plants seemed to be… glowing. So brightly colored they hurt my eyes to look at. The trees lining the edge of the field were tall and old looking, seemingly reaching out to touch the dark night sky with their twisted fingers. In some of them I could see thick rope with frayed ends swaying from the lower down branches. An image of children climbing all over those ancient trees flashed in my mind. In the distance, lights could be seen and voices could be heard. I could hear evening doves cooing, and bugs singing their song. I could hear the deep croaking of toads coming from a pond pushed in the back corner of the field. It was what I would imagine a fairy tale sounding and looking like. I half expected a deer to come up and nuzzle my neck.

“You look like you’re thinking really hard about something.” I spun around at the sound of a sudden voice, making eye contact with a familiar face. I had definitely seen this man somewhere before, but I couldn't quite place where…

He was tall and wide, and you could see the cut of muscle under his soft looking t-shirt. He walked like he was on his way to declare God himself his nemesis, leaning forward and with his giant fists permanently clenched. His hair was slightly unkempt and dark, his eyes, the deepest shade of blue I’ve ever seen a pair of eyes before. And despite his seemingly aggressive stance, he didn’t scare me or make me feel unwelcome. He stopped in front of me, his eyes scanning me over. 

“This place is really pretty.” I reply lamely, almost in a whisper, not really sure what else to say. He took a step closer, and I watched him wearily. It crossed my mind that I was at a complete disadvantage physically to him, but I tried to push that thought aside. “Where have I seen you before?” I ask instead. The familiarity of his face was bugging the crap out of me. 

“I’ve always been in your dreams.” He replies, taking another step towards me. 

“My….dreams?” I furrow my brow. Somewhere deep down I think I knew this isn’t real, but it’s hard to wrap my head around. 

He chuckles at my contorted face, and I feel my heart flipping a little with the sweet, deep sound of his laugh. I feel like I've heard it before. Something is festering around inside me at the sound of his laugh, telling me to wake up from the distorted reality I’m in. 

Where is this feeling coming from? It’s faint, so I push it to the back of my mind and try to focus on the person in front of me.

He’s edging closer to me now, so much so that I can smell the earthy scent coming off of him and see the splash of freckles across his tan face. I imagine he got them from laying in this field when the sun is out. I can feel the tension shooting between us both, and it only thickens when I shoot my eyes up to meet his. What was this feeling passing in between us? Why did I feel like I knew him? It’s driving me crazy.

“Want to sit down?” He asks. He must’ve seen me admiring the soft appearance of the grass before. 

He sits first, and I follow, for lack of anything better to do. I was right: the grass feels like threads of silk. I run my hands through it as though it were a girl's hair. I start at the roots, curling my fingertips slightly into the soft earth, and then slowly run a handful of grass through my fingers. I can’t help myself, I lay down, giggling a little. I continue to run my hands through the thick grass, thinking about how easy it would be to sleep here. The cool night breeze smells like cotton and dreams, and for a second I think I almost do fall asleep.

That strange laugh makes me sit up suddenly though, making me aware of what a fool I’m making of myself in front of a perfect stranger.

“It’s nice, I know.” He hesitates, and then lays down. “When I was little I used to sneak away from my home and come to this field. Everyone knows it’s here, but no one comes here because they know it’s mine.” 

“Am I invading your space?” I ask, inching a bit closer to him. He smirks, shaking his head. 

“You wouldn't be here if I didn’t want you to be.” I lay down after he says this, angling my body so that we’re touching at the hips. The tiny amount of physical contact makes my arms tingle.

Why did I want to be closer to him? I wanted to curl up in a ball in his arms. I’d never been good at flirting, I don’t even think you could say I had ever done it before, but I definitely felt like I was now. I glance at him through my lashes, and feel my heart jump when I find him already looking at me. I avert my eyes quickly, settling on the sky instead.

Who is this boy?