Dreaming of Flowers

I shake my head free of that strange encounter, and turn to my right, making my way through the tree line. The forest is pleasantly thick, but not so thick that I can't see far enough ahead of me. I walk for about ten minutes before I can see a house to my left a few hundred feet ahead. I assume that's the boy's house, which hopefully means the field shouldn't be too much farther ahead. I have no idea if that's actually true, since I've only been here one time and in one place. But I was trying to be hopeful. 

I walk quickly, feeling slightly pressed for time. Last time it was days before I could come back, what if it's longer this time? What if it's a week, or a month, or a year? I don't really know this boy too much, but for some reason the thought of not seeing him for a year makes my heart knot up. I laughed at myself a little. I had dreaded coming back here so much, but really only because I knew how much it would hurt to get ripped away from it again. 

The tight feeling in my chest makes my bare feet move faster. I barely feel the sticks, pine needles, and rocks stabbing into my flesh. I barely register the gorgeous, huge trees covered in wet moss and flowers blooming in the moonlight around me. As beautiful as it was, it wasn't what was on my mind right now.

All I can think about is how much my chest hurts.

I run by the house, which I can see now is man made. It's one story, with a roof that's sagging inwards. It's surrounded by thick, overgrown bushes with flowers blooming from it, and the sides are home to a dark green moss. It's definitely not like any house I've ever seen before. More like a shed, really. I can hear voices leaking from the cracks in the iffy wall and can smell meat cooking and bread baking. My curiosity peaks, but I press on. I'll try the field first, and if he's not there, then the house. I didn't want to risk bumping into anyone else if I could help it.

A few more hundred feet, and I come to the field. 

It's just like I remember. Long, luscious grass, vividly colored glowing flowers scattered in clumps.

"Delilah?" I hear his voice, and my eyes search frantically for his face. 

When I find it, my heart melts. He looks so glad to see me, but I can still see the layer of worry in his eyes at my presence. Why was I so invested in this guy? I had probably asked myself that question ten times now, but it didn't stop the skip in my heart at the sight of him.

He was to the edge of the field, but now he jogs towards me. He stops abruptly in front of me, bringing along the smell of fresh bread and blood with him. 

"How did you get here?" He asks, cupping my cheeks. His hands are rough from years of manual labor, but I still lean into them. They're warm and comforting in this strange place. It's strange, I can feel his hands, but only just so. Kind of like he was made of bubbles.

"Well, a girl woke me up and I was laying in the middle of a different field. She kind of gave me directions to you but she was acting really sketchy-" 

"I don't know how you're here right now." He interrupts. I furrow my brow at him, shifting my weight to my other foot and grabbing his hands that still cupped my face with my own. 

"Do you not want to see me?" I ask, the inner corners of my eyes tingling. Was I about to be rejected in my own dream? 

"No, no. Of course I want to see you. But Delilah …" He pauses, looking around me towards the house. The forest seems quieter than before, more still. Even the wind is waiting to see what he's going to say next. "I can't explain this to you here. It's not safe… too many people may be listening." I furrow my brow at his words, looking around us. There was literally no one.

What did he know that I didn't? 

"Please, I need to understand. Why do these dreams seem so real? Who are you? Where did you come from?" I drop our hands down, taking a step away from him. "Why am I so… connected to you." I whisper the last part, clenching and unclenching my hands desperately. 

"Look, I can't explain everything to you right now. I don't exactly know who saw you or where you came from, but if she wasn't one of my people, she's with them, and they will stop at nothing to get to you once they know you're here…" he turns away, running his hands over his face and hair. "I wish she hadn't seen you… they know what you look like now. Now everyone will be trying to get their hands on you. I hope she was one of us."

"They? Hello? What the hell is happening? I came here to see you and now you're acting like I'm in danger." He stops for a second to look at me, and I see the look in his eye soften a little. 

"My love, what you are doing right now is not a normal thing to be doing, you know that, right?" I shake my head

More and more things about this "dream" were starting to collect in the "doesn't make any sense" pile.