Closing the Distance (Dream State)

Mateo found that sleep provided a momentary reprieve from the clamorous confusion of his budget motel room and the harsh reality of Los Angeles outside his flimsy walls. Exhausted from the trip and culture shock, he fell asleep anticipating the comforting familiarity of the dreamscape.

Rather, it struck him with the acerbic, incredibly vivid force of waking life. He wasn't in the composite café or on a beach. Even though it was almost dark where he stood, he was keenly aware that Seraphina was closer than she had ever felt. It was more than just an emotional closeness; it was a real, electric sensation, like the vibration of air between two magnets ready to collide. The surrounding area was vague and unimportant; only their relationship was significant, magnified to an almost intolerable extent.

"Mateo?" Seraphina's breathless voice, tinged with astonished wonder, seemed to echo in the non-space. "What is this? It feels different to you. So close. as if you were in this very place.

He was startled by her instant perception, which confirmed the connection in a way that nothing else had. Even when he was asleep, she could sense his physical presence across the miles. It was an exciting and terrifying thought. The fact that she sensed it first changed the dynamic so that the revelation felt less like news and more like confirmation of what she already knew instinctively. He had meant to tell her.

The dream's air felt oddly real, cool against his lungs as he took a shaky breath. "Seraphina," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of the moment and the lingering effects of his long journey. "Because... I am."

There was a long, heavy, charged silence. He sensed that she was digesting what he had said, the impossibility of it.

"This is where?" Her final word, which was a whisper, was filled with a great deal of incredulity and dawning insight. "What does 'here' mean to you?"

"This is it. Even in the dream's unreality, Mateo's confirmation of "in Los Angeles" sounded dramatic and significant. "I got here yesterday."

He sensed her astonishment reverberating through their relationship, followed by a surge of contradictory feelings: cold, piercing fear; incredulity; and beneath it all, an unquestionable, terrifying thrill. "No," she uttered. "You really—you arrived? However, how? You mentioned your visa.

Mateo explained, "The commission money changed things." He briefly described the gamble of reapplying, the anxious wait (or lack thereof), the hasty decision to book the flight anyhow, and the tense moment at immigration where, miraculously, they had allowed him to pass. He described the exhausting trip, the overwhelming arrival, and the sense of complete disorientation and adriftness now that he was truly on her territory. "I'm lodging at a motel located miles away. Sera, I have no idea what I'm doing. This place isn't what I had in mind. It's big, noisy, and I feel like I'm invisible.

He heard her take a sharp breath. His presence was now a reality rather than a remote possibility. She was alone and unprepared as she navigated the overwhelming, tangible reality of her city with the boy from her dreams, the one who shared her vulnerabilities and understood her silences. The boundaries of the dream sanctuary had vanished, and it had suddenly become terrifyingly real.

"Mateo," she said, breaking through the shock with an abrupt urgency. The awareness and caution that had been developed over years of negotiating the perilous terrain of celebrity suddenly became apparent. "You must pay attention to me. You must exercise extreme caution.

He sensed the change in her voice, the sincere fear taking the place of the awe. "I understand," he muttered.

"You don't," she emphasized. "Not at all. Mateo, this isn't our ideal café. Portugal is not here. This is my life. Yes, it is a bubble, but there are people all around it who are watching. Security procedures, devoted fans, and paparazzi. Everything is under the control of my team. If they were aware, even if they had a suspicion, She didn't have to say the entire thing. "Everything is managed; they keep tabs on my calls and movements. It's not only hard to find me these days, but it's also risky. For us both.

Her voice trembled, and he heard it. This concern was grounded in the lived reality of her confinement rather than being merely hypothetical. He whispered, "The observatory," recalling the hint she had given him—the landmark that was visible from her window.

"Perhaps," she reluctantly admitted. "But even approaching... Mateo, please. Don't take any chances. Don't make an effort to speak with me directly. Avoid areas where you believe I might be. They will observe. There's always someone who notices. They might make things extremely difficult for you if you are caught and they somehow connect you to me. Legal issues, deportation, and for me... The implication of scandal and loss of control hung heavy in the charged dream air as she trailed off once more. It has the potential to ruin our tenuous relationship. Sometimes, reality can be cruel.

Despite the strength of their bond, he took in her warning, the stark truth of it chilling him. He hadn't given much thought to the difficulties of navigating her world once he got there because he had been so preoccupied with the trip and just getting here. She was clearly afraid, and rightfully so. He was in a minefield he didn't understand because of his impetuous quest.

"All right," he said in a quiet voice. "All right, Sera. I get it. I'll exercise caution. I won't. I will not be foolish.

The initial shock and excitement were now heavily layered with caution and the overwhelming weight of their situation, and a fragile silence descended between them once more. The path to actually bridging the physical distance seemed more perilous than the transatlantic journey itself, despite the fact that they were closer than ever and breathing the same city air.

The vivid clarity started to fade at the edges of the dream state. The sensation of overwhelming closeness persisted, but it was now tinged with anxiety. The cheap polyester sheets clung to Mateo as he woke up with a start in the strange motel room. Through the curtain gap, the sun was already shining harshly. In sharp contrast to the excitement of having arrived, Seraphina's warning continued to echo in his ears. The next step felt dreadfully uncertain, but he was here, in her city.

Seraphina awoke in her quiet mansion, her skin tingling from the lingering feeling of Mateo's proximity. He was present. Her system was rocked by the thought. The boy who stood for sincerity, freedom, and real connection was no longer restricted to the secure world of sleep. He was alone and vulnerable as he made his way through the concrete streets of Los Angeles, attracted to her like a moth to a dangerous, complicated flame. Her caution had been natural, essential. However, a fearful, thrilling question came to her as she lay there gazing at the ceiling: Could she really bear not to find a way for their disparate worlds to finally collide now that he was here? She understood that the pull might be too strong to resist, but the risk was enormous.