Page 26 of Presence

“I don’t expect you to do anything,” he cuts me off. With a wave of his hand, everything changes. The pink streaks in the sky collapse, and the vast expanse above us alters. The tall trees move, parting to reveal a gap beyond the forest. Instead of an endless forest, there’s an expanse of blackness, like a wall of moving ink held back by a barrier.

I gasp, terror freezing me. The moving ink isn’t ink at all. It’s the black shadows, slithering like serpents over one another. They press against the barrier, misty fingers clawing at the veil, trying to reach us. Trying to reach me.

“Have they been there the whole time?” I ask, bringing a hand to my face.

Echo’s eyes narrow. “Yes,” he replies. “I should have told you, but… ignorance is bliss, don’t you think?”

His words sink in. If I had known the shadows were this close, I’d never be able to relax. I wanted to let go, didn’t I? Echo gave me that option, even though he made the choice for me. When I took his hand, I wanted to lose control, to be shown this place could be more than just my nightmares.

“I get…” I start, but words fail me. The barrier starts to crack, its fractures spreading rapidly. I watch in horror as dark tendrils stretch through the gaps. Words die in my throat, my palms slick with sweat.

“No, no, no...” I whisper, scrambling to my feet and stepping back.

Echo notices the shadows too. It’s hard not to. They are breaking through the barrier and coming forward with the speed of little cursed planes. He jumps to his feet, gripping my hands and forcing me to look at him.

“Claire,” he says, his palms squeezing so hard it hurts. “Claire, listen to me, you need to wake up.”

“What?” I ask, my voice shaky, like through a haze.

“I’ll make you wake up now, okay?”

I nod, trying to steady my racing heart as the shadowy tendrils thicken, creeping closer with each passing second. The cold dread that seizes me feels almost suffocating. Echo’s words barely register in my mind.

The shadows surge forward, as if spurred by his words, their movements more desperate, aggressive. It’s as if they heard him, as if they know their time is limited.

And then, just as I brace myself, the dream ends. I wake up in my bed. This time, my memory’s intact.

9

Maybe it was nothing

I wake up this time without a dramatic bolt upright, no gasping for breath, and no layer of sweat covering my body. I open my eyes to the white ceiling of my bedroom, wrapped in the sensation that I’ve just had the best sleep of my life.

I remember my dream, but it doesn’t feel as intense as any I’ve had in the past year. It wasn’t a nightmare, but it also doesn’t feel like a personal memory. I feel detached, like it happened to someone else. It’s as if it wasn’t me moaning Echo’s name or feeling dread when the shadowy figures leaped at me. Like I barely share a memory with someone else who went through all that. Like the real me was just a spectator.

I blink a few times, still staring at the ceiling, and notice light streaming into my room. Confusion washes over me as I slowly sit up. My spine aches despite my muscles feeling rested, and my eyes are dry, even though I’m sure they were closed all night. My throat is parched too. It’s been so long since I’ve slept through the night without moving, I almost forgot what it feels like. And now, it’s already morning.

I sit up and blink a few more times, looking out the window. Life is bustling outside—cars are driving relentlessly, even in my quiet suburban neighborhood. There’s always a steady flow of people rushing about. Yet, the sky looks duller than ever, filled with clouds and not a hint of the sun.

Nothing like what I experienced with Echo...

The thought hits me, bringing a sharp pang to my heart. Grief washes over me.

I left him there, in the dreamscape. He stayed behind with those awful shadows reaching for him. They might have been after me, but who knows what they did to him if they caught him. Even though the dream feels distant, I know it was real. I know I have to get back there, no matter what it takes.

I need to get back to that paradise again. To him.

I swing my legs off the bed, forcing myself to stand despite the lethargy clinging to my limbs. Each step is heavy as if I’m dragging more than just my body, but it’s nothing compared to the exhaustion I’ve felt for the past year.

Today, unlike yesterday, I actually feel somewhat rested. Thank fuck.

I shuffle to the kitchen, my mind racing as I fumble with the tea bags and settle on a chamomile blend. As the tea steeps, I lean against the counter, my fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on the cool surface. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the microwave door—haunted eyes and tousled hair. A mess, but still a better mess than I’d be if I hadn’t slept at all.

I let out a sigh, the sound echoing in the silent kitchen.

My thoughts drift to Echo—how real he felt, how vivid our encounters were. “The things we’ve done today… They help,” his words ring through my head. And those shadows... even now, thinking of them sends a chill down my spine.

Determined, I snatch a notebook from the living room and begin jotting down every detail of my dreams. I try not to focus on the sex, honestly, I do. Even though it dominates my thoughts, there are more important details at hand. Instead, I concentrate on our conversations, the places we’ve visited, and all the surreal things that couldn’t possibly be real but happened anyway.

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