Faceless (Part II)

I’m face to face with the figure now.

I can feel the soft brick against my back as I lean, waiting to see what comes next. I’m not sure what I expected and there wasn’t much time to think anyhow. I was caught in a trance by the glow, the spectacle and the power of the Fall evening I found myself in. It was different than other evenings. From where I stood, I couldn’t see the moon but suspected that its gravity might have something to do with it. What other explanation could there be?

The grip on my shoulders loosen and my eyelids subsequently soften as the figure runs their fingers delicately down the sides of my arms, tracing with their eyes until each one, one by one, tap dance off the back of my hand.

Their eyes slowly rise to meet mine, and as they do, I see a tiny watered reflection in each of the lower right corners of the beautiful irises whose steady gaze peers into mine.

For a brief moment, I think I recognize the figure. Familiarity bleeds from the eyes. I think that, perhaps, they are the one: The one just on the tip of my memory all those morning awakenings from dreams I unwillingly and rapidly departed, the one I journeyed with through foreign landscapes, strange temples and alien malls of the future while I slept. The one that in the dream I’d known forever. The one that I’d live forever with, slowly and cautiously pushing past palm leaves and vines through a marvelous jungle, revealing a never-ending series of breathtaking, chokingly gorgeous surprises.

Their hands slowly whisking the tops of ferns in a field just ahead of me, accentuating the edges of the cirrus circus in the blue sky above. This one seemed to be recurring.

But I’d always have to wake up, the remnants of the dream rapidly dissolving and I’d grasp to catch the tiny pieces, like diamond sand sprinkles twinkling as it fell through the seams of my fingers and into the cracks of my wooden floor. No matter how hard I’d try and quickly commit to memory the best I could the colorful details, the timeless moments and adventures I’d just awoken from, it would inevitably fade. Tragically, it would lie just on the very edge of my recollection, somehow the memory of the figure’s face lost on me somewhere in the dark matter between my waking life and the mysterious life of the other side. A translucent curtain shut in perfect timing with the opening of my eyes as they greeted each day. It would sadden me because while I was awoken, and while I couldn’t quite recall all of the infinite sensory details and experiences of the dream, the feeling would remain nonetheless.

Like an unexpected, tear-jerking, heartbreakingly wistful love letter arriving in the mail with no name and no return address.

Something about the reflection in their eyes makes me think that this is it, that after all the bittersweet mornings of a lovely memory lost forever on me, that they’ve arrived after all.

And so I smile.

We both do.

Shifting our stance and holding our glance, we look up to see the last lavender ribbon sliver of dusk give way to a completely black canvas above.

Looking back to each other, our smiles growing out of the silent moment with each of us wondering what to say to one another, the figure breaks the silence:

“Would you…..Would you like to just sit with me while we look up and try to figure out where all these stars came from?”

“Of course.”

And so we sit next to each other, flanneled flint rubbing tiny sparks between us the eye can’t see as a cool night breeze blows beneath the tunnel of the arched legways that support our crossed arms.

Where once was a disparate scattering of the heavens seems a playful stringed array of lights, all connected to one another like God’s tacky but endearing apartment decorations. I spot one of the stars in particular that seems particularly bright.

“Is that the North Star?” I ask, pointing above.

“Which one?” the figure asks, squinting, looking from my finger towards the sky. “I don’t have my glasses.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I chuckle, spying the thousands of bright stars above.

After a moment, both of our focuses come back towards the ground. We both turn to look into each others’ eyes. The green glow rifts a silent hum around the figure still, and we turn to embrace one another, warm cheeks leading the way to two nestled puzzle pieces of arm’s embrace.

I couldn’t tell you how long we stayed this way.

Some would say moments.

Some would say a lifetime.

The wind suddenly begins to pick up, a cool chill in the air arriving swiftly.

In halfway departure from the embrace, our hair dancing repetitiously in front of our eyes, the figure asks with an unexpected, two-thirds mischievous smile, “Hey. Are you ready to go bed? It’s getting late.”

“Sure.”

We stand up, the figure taking my hand and leading me down the alleyway. We pass through a tunnel, and as we traverse our way through, our footsteps echoing and the greenly glowing silhouetted figure in front of me, I begin to notice that the portal in front of us is changing quickly and standing in stark contrast to the black of night behind us as it lightens from dark purple to lavender to orange. I suddenly think that there’s something I should tell them, and so I stop in my tracks.

“I think there’s something you should know before we go any further. You might find that things here will be different once we reach the other side,” I say. “Do you wish to keep going? We can always turn around.”

“We’ve already come this far,” the figure replies as they turn back around to face the scene ahead of us. “Might as well figure out what’s on the other side of this tunnel.”

And standing shoulder to shoulder, I scratch my head, we shrug our shoulders and start to walk.

We only take two steps before the figure stops me.

“Wait. Let’s paper, rock, scissors it?” she posits. “Best two out of three. I win, we move forward with the journey. You win, we turn back. We’ll leave it up to chance to decide.”

One of those dramatic Western sound effects occurs as we pause. We both turn to face each other, hands beside our scabbards. We both shoot our best glare.

Then, it begins.

I throw scissors. She throws paper.

She throws rock. I throw scissors.

I throw paper. She throws scissors.

The journey goes on…