Page 31 of Fade With Me

His search was palpable, the urgency in his expression almost tangible. He scanned the horizon as though everything he cared about depended on finding whatever he sought.

Then, as if my presence had drawn him in, he called out, his voice frantic, desperate, yet filled with longing: “Bryn…Bryn, baby, where are you?!”

My heart skipped a beat. I wanted to answer him, to reassure him, so I called back, “I’m right here!”

His eyes locked onto mine, and a wave of pure relief washed over his features. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward me, his long strides collapsing the invisible line that had separated us. When his hands touched my face, I felt a jolt of electricity, a tenderness both strange and familiar, like a part of me I’d forgotten.

He cupped my cheeks, his touch both gentle and insistent. His voice cracked, a confession of fear and longing. “I was so worried you wouldn’t be here.”

I placed my palms over his, offering silent reassurance, then searched his eyes—eyes that carried a weight I couldn’t comprehend. “I’ve been here the whole time,” I said softly. “You don’t have to be upset.”

But his gaze, those crystal-clear windows, told a different story. They revealed hidden pains, unspoken sorrows that had taken root in him. In a heartbeat, his expression shifted, twisting in anguish.

“Bryn,please...” He squeezed his eyes shut, whispering, his voice breaking. “Tell me where you are.”

Confused, I gently pried his hands from my face, trying to calm him with a soft, reassuring smile. He looked at me, but it was like he was still trying to find me.

“I just told you. I’m right here.” I kept my tone steady, hoping to ease his panic.

Taking his hand, I led him down the winding trail. The roar of the water grew louder with every step until it nearly deafened me. Excitement rose in my chest as I spoke, the need to guide him forward pressing on me. “Come on, we’re almost there!”

And then, as we emerged from the forest, the massive waterfall came into view, its torrents of crystal water cascading down with awe-inspiring power. The roar of the falls echoed off the cliffs, the mist rising like aradiant halo in the air, creating a scene so beautiful it almost seemed unreal.

We settled into our usual spot on the weathered rock, the one we always return to in these recurring dreams. It felt like home, a quiet refuge where the soothing melody of the falling water wrapped around us like a tender embrace, softening everything but the stillness of the moment.

I lay back, feeling the rough stone beneath me, my body sinking into its familiar contours. He mirrored my movement, lowering himself beside me. His eyes turned to face me, intense, as though he believed the answer was written behind my eyes.

“Why here?” he asked softly, his voice carrying a trace of something unspoken, thoughtful and low.

I let out a quiet sigh, my eyes fluttering shut as I gave in to the tranquility, the rush of falls filling the space around us. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “But this place…it makes everything feel okay. It calms the fear inside me, lets me breathe here. Nothing else matters.”

The breeze stirred my hair, lifting the strands like a soft caress. Golden sunlight bathed us, imbuing the scene with a vibrant sense of reality. And him—oh, him—so vivid, so alive. I almost convinced myself this wasn’t just a dream.

I reached for his hand, my fingers curling around his. My pulse quickened, a mix of longing and something deeper, something urgent. “This place,” I murmured, myvoice barely a breath, “is my slice of heaven. Whether I’m awake or asleep, it’s where I feel safe. It’s my waterfall. And you…” I let the words trail off, uncertain but filled with a need that swallowed everything else. “You’re the piece that makes it whole.”

His eyes widened, drinking in the scene like it might vanish at any second. “You’re saying this place is real?” he asked, wonder and disbelief braided into every word. He looked around slowly, absorbing every fragment like it held answers.

I cupped his face, guiding his attention back to mine. “Yes, but you’re not,” I whispered, the truth heavy between us. “You’re not real. Let’s indulge in this fantasy a little longer, before it’s gone.”

I nestled closer, letting the cool scent of cedar and pine fill my lungs. His presence was grounding, a fleeting sense of belonging.

As I gazed deeper into his eyes, the world around us blurred and twisted, like paint bleeding into water, colors running, the edges softening, fading. It felt as if the very fabric of the dream was unraveling. And then, a brutal jolt—my consciousness ripped from one world to another, the dream collapsing and reforming in an instant.

I stumbled forward, vision blurring, straining to orient myself in the dark, oppressive surroundings. Fear coursed through my veins like ice. The air felt suffocating, wrapping around me like a shrinking cage. Thedarkness swallowed everything, but I could sense him, his unwavering presence in the chaos.

I reached out, trembling, fumbling for him. His grip was solid, an anchor in the storm. I clutched his hand, desperate, unwilling to let go.

“We have to get out of here, NOW!” I screamed, the words raw, ripped from panic. The seconds shattered around us, shadows closing in, faster, as if they had a will of their own. I knew we had no time.

“What are we running from, Bryn?” His tone, impossibly calm, cut through the hysteria.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Instead, I pulled him forward, eyes fixed on the swirling black ahead, where the shadows seemed to move with purpose.

“The shadows!” I shrieked, my voice small against the face of terror. “They’re closing in! Can’t you see them?!”

But my words dissolved into the air, useless against my fear.

His hand tightened around mine, pulling me to a halt. “Bryn, stop,” he murmured, his voice calm, like it could shield me from something unseen. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. They can’t touch you.”

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