Waiting For You

Outside Your Window...

I wake up falling.

The wind whipping my hair against my face as gravity pulls me back toward the ground. For some reason, however, I'm unafraid. As though the pull of the Earth would never be able to affect me. This ceaseless feeling is soon met with reward as I feel myself softly caught out of the cloudless void of a blackened sky. Supple, silken white arms guide me to my feet as I stare down at the ground, which seems to melt into the barely visible horizon ahead. Before I can move, I feel my hand taken in another. The warmth behind the action is something unmistakable; love. But who is this?

Why have they saved me? As I hear them call my name, I am caught off guard, as though a million needles had stabbed me in the chest. The shock of this bitter pain causes me to crane my head to catch a quick look at my savior, only to find my vision blur into nothingness. How long have I been having that dream. I can't place a time on it, but I've felt myself growing increasingly disjointed from reality ever since. Soon, being lost in thought felt more natural then the surreal world in where I return home from work and spend the nights with my family. Eventually, those days came to pass.

Weeks, months, years go by. I fall asleep to the sound of crying often, uncaring of what bound me to this world. Who is that person in my dream? Why does she sound so familiar, and how does she know my name? What always bothers me the most, however, is that when she calls my name, I feel a sadness I can't possibly place. The pain from that single instance, every night that I sleep, pulls me further and further from this world. As I slept one night, I found that I couldn't shake this sudden feeling of unease. This dream felt... different. The sky was the soft crimson of dusk as I felt myself free-fall towards what felt an uncertain fate.

What was going to happen to me? Would I finally see the woman's face? Was I scared because she was nervous? Was I terrified of finding out the truth? As the uncertain feelings swirled violently through my head, my entire body jolts to a halt, the wind becoming less audible as I begin hearing quiet voices. Apologetic. Pleading. It was her. But why? What did she feel sorry for? As my mind began to fill with worry, my eyes shot open. A moment of realization seemed to hit me as soon as I felt the impact of the ground to the back of my body.

Violently, my body jolted as I opened my eyes back to reality. My vision is blurred for a moment, but I can make out the sight of my wife in tears. Her body loomed over me as though she'd done something terrible. I force a smile, feeling heavy as I tried to form words. It's strange though. I can't seem to hear her. "Julia... I'm... so... rry..."

It's strange. As I felt my body slip unwilling back to sleep, I couldn't help but think: did I just call my wife Julia? That isn't her name...