Dreaming of Flowers

He looks up at the big moon with me, and I find my gaze drifting, turning to look at his eyes so that I can see the moon’s reflection in them. Sure enough, it’s like I’m staring into a lake’s surface. “I grew up a mile or so that way,” he points towards the tree line ahead of us. I turned away from his face to follow his pointed finger, where I saw the lights and heard voices earlier. “I grew up with ten younger brothers and sisters.”“That’s a lot of siblings.” I say, looking back at his handsome face. His jaw is clean and sharp looking, his lips thick, with a scar going through the top and lower right corner. It has a brother, going across his right eye. I move my gaze down to his neck, where I can see dark blue lines wrapping around from the back. I gently nudge his jawline, and he complies, twisting his head so I can see the back of his neck. I try to ignore the spark I feel when I touch his skin. A large circle tattoo, which is sliced like a pie, is on the back of his neck. Each

“I got this.” I say to my mother, stretching my neck forward to see the front of the line.It’s been four days since my dream. The day of the dream, I hadn’t really done anything. I fed my dog breakfast and then went back to bed until three, until I had to get up and get ready for work at five. Work had been busy, a pleasant distraction from thinking about my dream. The next few days after that I spent mostly trying to occupy my mind. I cleaned the house and my room, gave my dog a bath, sorted out some clothes to sell for extra cash, stuff like that. My mom thought I was on drugs and I think she was seriously considering buying an at home drug test.I’ve obviously slept since then, and no dreams like that have happened again. I had a dream that I was a mermaid trapped in disney world, and I swear, I could see the guy from the field standing outside my tank, watching me with those blue eyes that captured the moon so perfectly. I mean I know he had said he was from my dreams but... I h

I shake my head, and turn to my right, making my way through the treeline, trying to push that very strange encounter to the back of my mind. The forest is pleasantly thick, but not so thick that I can’t see far enough ahead of me. I walk for about ten minutes before I can see a house to my left a few hundred feet ahead. I assume that’s the boy’s house, which hopefully means the field shouldn’t be too much farther ahead. I have no idea if that’s actually true, since I’ve only been here one time and in one place. But I was trying to be hopeful. I walk quickly, feeling slightly pressed for time. Last time it was days before I could come back, what if it’s longer this time? What if it’s a week, or a month, or a year? I don’t really know this boy too much, but for some reason the thought of not seeing him for a year makes my heart knot up. I laughed at myself a little. I had dreaded coming back here so much, but really only because I knew how much it would hurt to get ripped away from it

It was almost two in the afternoon before I finally gave up. I closed my laptop that I’d had to plug in while I used it from draining the battery, and tossed it on the foot of my bed. I had let my dog out hours ago. She had no interest in research, only in frockling in the back yard. I left my room, shutting my wooden door a bit forcefully behind me. The house was cool and quiet, all I could hear was my mom’s cat padding around somewhere. I stood there in the hallway for a moment, staring at a picture of my dad that hung on the wall, along with various other pictures. We had gone on a fishing trip; I was only four and the small perch my mother had photographed me holding had felt like a shark in size to little me. My dad died when I was eight, from a heart attack. I loved him, and I miss him every day I walk down this hallway and see these pictures of him, smiling and frozen in time. That gives me an idea. My legs and mind kick into gear with the fresh thought seared into my min

I nod, keep a hold on my one picture of the field, and stand up. Neither me or my mother say anything as I slowly walk to my room. I wanted her to stop me, to tell me she was sorry for saying that and that she would support me in finding out what the hell was happening with me. I wanted to know that even if this didn't work out, I would still have her.But she didn’t. I walked into my room, shutting the door behind me and leaning against it. I close my eyes, slide down the length of it, and bury my face in my hands. I jump a little when I feel my dog’s nose brushing my forearm. I glance up, my throat on fire and my eyes already brimming over with tears.I grab her face in my hands, staring into her aging yellow eyes. She had gray hair all over her face, her lips and ears drooped more every day, and lately she had developed a limp. The vet had just said it was her joints, and apart from a special diet and exercise routine, there was nothing we could do to help her. She was just gett