Ectypal Gaze (2)

Ancient pillars of oak and pine grew denser, suffocating me in their reticence.

Still, I was pulled to the light.

My breath and pulse violated the forest’s lull, that seemed on the verge of retaliating.

Still, the light drew me closer.

The trail I walked upon morphed into decrepit marble, trees receded to unveil a starless sky.

What resembled a cathedral lay before me, surrounded by forest’s shadows and mounted upon a cliff of ather. I’d seen this geometry before; this strange masonry of stone that slumbered in eternal solitude to its architect’s vision; this soulless landscape, hollowed of thought and mind; this intriguing light that commanded my every stride; this putrid idol of a dream once lost, remembered.

I stepped within-

past rows of chiseled bench-

past twisted columns that rose to a ceiling unseen-

to the sanctuary, where on a pedestal sat a pearly cat whose colorless eyes radiated with a feeble yet ever present brilliance.

“How was the walk sleepy head?”

Her voice was subdued by the vastness of the nave.

“Quite quiet, are you? Have you forgotten me?”

Its head tilted, expecting a response.

“The trail was quite quiet,” I replied after a moment, “I guess I have forgotten, though this dream does seem familiar.”

“Well, that’s to be expected considering your circumstances. Though I did hope you might remember me Gensou.”

“I am Iorphia,” it rose as it spoke and leapt off the pedestal circling behind me.

Slender arms draped over my shoulders leaning into me lethargically, “I have been waiting for you to return.”

“Me? I don’t think I’m who you are waiting for; I’m Hisoka.”

As I began to turn around it’s arms retracted suddenly.

A chiseled figure of ethereal flesh, narrow sinew, and languid blood, stood barefoot on relic cobblestone. The same radiant-unblinking eyes now sat on the face of a teenage Mediterranean girl, clothed in a white woolen tunic that was held together by masses of writhing aurelian snake-like threads fashioned into buttons.

“I am not mistaken. You simply forgot,” her thick eyebrows shifted from their stoic position to become slightly irritated.

Iorphia let out a deep sigh, or perhaps a purr, as she plucked a golden thread from her garb and unraveled a length of it.

“I have no idea how, but both you and I somehow forgot your verse Gensou,” she took my left hand and began swiftly tying a knot around it with an innate dexterity.

“Verse? What is my verse?”

“Your poem, song, name, your verse,” she said surely, her delicate fingers dancing around my own.

“Must I know it? What is it for?”

“Only one of us has to know it, though I can’t really describe what it does, or really is. You could think of it as your connection to your unconscious,” she said with a restored calmness.

“I should've thought of this last time,” she said with another, more relieved, sigh.

A knot resembling a blooming iris clung to my index finger.

“Your dreams have never been your own since we lost your verse. However we can find it if we look together. I need you to remember my name when you wake up. That should be enough for you to remember me in the next person’s dream you enter.”

“What is this knot for then?”

“It’s a reminder of knots and flowers,” her lips curled into a slight smirk, “Once you say it this cord will pull me out of your last real dream. My only guess to how you ended back up here was that you stumbled into the dream of another narcoleptic person, so don’t expect a second chance to come so easily if you mess this up.“

“Sure thing,” I replied sarcastically, “Ayame is gonna love it if I can recall this dream for her.”

“Whatever. Our time is nearly up. You should try your introduction again tomorrow.”

“Sure… See you later”

The cathedrals’ shadows consumed Iorphia, squashing her eyes into pebbles, pinholes, then lethe.

Iris, knots, light, and a lap of lilac….

My head felt heavy, submerged in a pillow of fog, able only to recount fragments of what I knew I had just dreamt.

A falling suitcase, a cat named Iorphia, a lonely house, a train ride, some dark building.

What narrative there was to these things I could not say.

“Noguchi-san?”

“Are you good Noguchi-san?”

“No. Why would I be? A good half of my life has been wasted sleeping, and I can’t do shit about it,” my tongue snapped to my classmate’s curious face.

The nurse’s office in which I sat grew silent, making schoolyard chatter leak through the second story window rippling the curtains that surrounded me with a gentle breath of spring.

Ahhh… My class introduction.

I fell asleep in the middle of it.

That was a great demonstration; I won’t have to repeatedly explain my condition all the time.

“You. Who are you?”

“Ayame Suzuki,” she replied awkwardly.

“I’m sorry about that Ayame-san; I often say a bit too much right after I wake up.”

She shifted nervously with her hands held behind her back.

“It’s okay. Miyuki-san, the school nurse, left me to wait with you until clubs ended.”

“Well thank you for helping, though next time you should leave me. I don’t know why Akari would waste your time.”

She fell silent for a moment, most likely speculating on how I was on a first name basis with the school nurse. Or perhaps she thought I was just rude. I studied her face for a moment: her neatly tied hair, studious demeanor, and plain eyes all of which divulged that she was curious to ask but didn’t, out of reservation. I waited longer to see if she would erase the uncomfortable air I built with tactful or charismatic words. Before either of us could break the silence a pop band began to tune their instruments and riff, muffled by the floorboards.

“Who are your favorite musicians, Ayame-san?”

“Happy End,” she said promptly, but then paused, hesitant to say anything else.

“Care to elaborate?” I rose out of bed picking out a piece of paper, from my bookbag, to jot her response down. I looked up to see that she was even more hesitant, intimidated by a paper.

“Never mind.” I hate wasting my time awake with conversations like these: ones that require me to answer repetitive mundane questions, that force me to deal with reserved people that never say what they really think, that make me wish I was back asleep. Akari probably left her here knowing this.

“I gotta go. I’ll remind Akari that I’m her responsibility when I get home. Don’t let her force you into pointless stuff next time.” I grabbed my things and Akari’s reading glasses off of her desk on my way to the door.

“Wait!” her hand tugged onto my uniform just as I nearly made it out into the hallway, “Miyuki-san didn’t pawn you off on me. I- I’m your class president. You’re my responsibility too.” I turned to face her to see flushed cheeks, and that she had somehow become even more flustered.

Good lord

“You were elected as our class president while I was out? That’s great! It will make this so much more convenient. Tell my classmates that I don’t care if they want to pity me, befriend me, use me as a way to demonstrate their kindness, or make me into a chalkboard while I sleep. I just really, and I mean really, hate it when people waste the 10 to 12 hours I get to spend awake.”

“Sure, I’ll tell them.”

“Wait really?”

“Yeah. Would you let me stay with you next time you sleep?”

“Why? Actually no, never mind. I'll forget you said that. I’m leaving.”

I left her standing to begin my journey home.