The Envelope

I had that reoccurring dream of my Mattie again, it is now August 22nd, 2008; it has been 17 years now. Mattie always seems to come me and visit, sometime usually around the anniversary date of the Buddhist Temple murders, of August 1991. This year, I noticed that he was late, but I eagerly awaited his arrival all the more. I was so excited for the chance to see my old friend once more, like I had done so many times before. The dreams are so surreal, so vivid, I just don't want to wake from them, but they always break my heart in such a way, that I don't want to go back to sleep. Not that I ever get any real sleep anymore. Every dream becomes even more intense than the last. I see his sweet face clearer, I can actually feel his warm smile, even when we aren’t looking at each other. I can feel his tender touch, like his hands are wrapped in velvet gloves, which seem to engulf my heart, as if to protect me from what’s to come. I smell the sweet aroma of his sun warmed, brown skin, as he leans in close to me, to kiss my cheek, so innocently, like he did so many mornings at school, and I know that I was, and am always, truly loved. We always journey away to the most fascinating, and unbelievably, exotic and exciting places. Places that seemed as if to be centered on an island, near this luxurious, old, tawny colored, Spanish mission style building, which had been converted into a resort. These places that he takes me to, do not exist in my real life; my day time life. These places could only exist in what I like to call, my night time life. While we’re there, we never leave each other’s side, laughing and playing like we are still teenagers, untouched by time. We are so close, that at times, it seems as though he is almost a figment of my imagination, although not here, not at all here, here he is real, as real as I am. But when it’s time for us to part of course, it always happens the same way. I reach for my purse, leave the room to get my coat, turn to hug a friend goodbye, no matter what I’d do, the outcome is always the same. I turned back, and he’s gone. As absent as he was before I closed my eyes and fell asleep. I can feel myself waking from my night time life, but I fight to stay asleep, just so I can search for him. I find myself darting down the deepest, darkest, stairwells of this resort, which I’ve come to know by heart. I run into hallways, I hurry into elevators and ride them as high as they will go, trembling all the way to the top, as I clench railing along the wall railing and watch my knuckles turn white, as I tuck myself into the corner, with my heart drumming out of my chest, and I shut my eyes in attempt to not hyperventilate. Before I know it, I’m opening any doors I can, and I find that I’ve walked into my own daytime life’s living room, bathroom or sometime I find, I’ve walked in on my own slumbering self, in my very own bedroom, the same place that I lay down to project myself to the resort, so I may have a chance to see him again, and I can see myself tossing and turning, trying my best to stay in this bizarre, but strangely familiar location, but morning is quickly calling me further away from him than I already am. Sometimes when I open doors, I can feel my own eyes start to open, like the hinges of the doors are somehow connected to my eye lids, and when I close those doors that I had just opened, I can feel my eyes slamming closed so tight, and I begin my search for Mattie once more, that is if I’m lucky enough to subconsciously stay in this other world. This time I win the battle to stay, and continue to look for him. I look for him in places I would never dare to go in my day time life, places that I thought I would never even dare to go in a dream, but as the last act of desperation, I wander into the thick and hazy darkness of my deepest fears, just to find him. I know he isn’t there anymore, he’s gone, so far away from me now, and though I have been abandoned by him once again, my heart tells me to trudge on any way, and just before I take that final corner, and the last step of the gloomy stair well, into complete and total darkness, so afraid of the blackened unknown, of those final steps, that scare me more than selling my soul, I feel someone reach for me. A gentle hand, tugging on my dress, and I can feel the warmth of his little hand seeping through the layers of silk fabric I’m entangled in, and my heart beats heavy, as I turn toward the familiar touch. I feel my blood rush through me, as I start to feel sickened and faint, only when I realize that it isn’t Mattie who is reaching for me.