The Nightmare (Student no. 1182622)

She Dreams. (click-goto:?page,"p1.2")

She dreams of a [[cottage. ->cottage description]]

It is buried in farmland, divided by a river. The grass is radiantly green. There are the gentle murmurings of the cow, the clucking of the hens. The cottage is only two rooms, but it is large enough for her. She has a warm bed in one room, covered in quilts. A cast iron oven in the other, which radiates heat like a plump little dragon. (click-goto:?page,"p1.3")

He is [[everywhere->p1.4]] there.

He is there in her bed. Pale sunlight falls on his face from the window. He sleeps as he never did in life. There are no nightmares. (click-goto:?page,"p1.5")

He is there at her kitchen table. [[“Let me take care of you,” she says.->p1.6]]

He allows her to, as he never once had. She washes her hands with rough soap, dries her skin on her skirt. She looks in her cupboard. [[She puts grilled eggs, fresh tomatoes, smoked fish, on his plate. ->p1.7.a]] [[She puts rye bread, quince jam and a smear of soft cheese, on his plate. ->p1.7.b]]

He does not think of his home. It shows on his face. (click-goto:?page,"p1.9")

He is there in her field. His hand, ungloved, rests against the rounded sides of her hazelnut cow. He is everywhere in this place. [[“Let me show you,” she says. ->p1.10]]

She demonstrates her work. Milking the cows. Checking the fish traps. Weeding and watering the garden. If it had not been a dream, she would have been embarrassed by the simplicity of it. Her little farm. (click-goto:?page,"p1.11")

But this is not a version of her that could be embarrassed. This is the her before, and who would not have known to be. [[When she lived here, she did not know anything else.->p1.12]]

(set: $BreakfastA to it + 1) She feeds him, as she has always wished she could. He eats. (click-goto:?page,"p1.8")

Daughter. They had called her daughter here.(click-goto:?page,"p1.13")

He weeds and milks and waters with her. He sweats, but he smiles. “Sweetheart,” he says, for the pleasure of saying it and for her pleasure of hearing it.(click-goto:?page,"p1.14")

''She is blindsided with black rage.'' (after:2s)[''"No."'' His face blanks.''"This is not how this goes."''(click-goto:?page,"p1.15")]

Between breaths, he is gone. His iron hoe lies on the ground, carelessly, across two rows of tomato plants. (click-goto:?page,"p1.16")

He is in her bed, under the quilts. The day breaks across his face. He does not have nightmares. He is entirely hollow. (click-goto:?page,"p2.2")

''"Again." "Begin it again,"''she says to the Dream. (click-goto:?page,"p1.17")

It begins again. The farm dissolves and reforms.

It begins again. The farm dissolves and reforms. (click-goto:?page,"p2.1")

She wakes him with a kiss on his temple. Even his skin smells the same. It has softness and give under her lips.(click-goto:?page,"p2.3")

She pulls him, shirtless, to the kitchen. "Let me take care of you," she says. She means it more each time. [[She feeds him grilled eggs, fresh tomatoes, smoked fish. ->p2.4.a]] [[She gives him rye bread, quince jam and a smear of soft cheese.->p2.4.b]]

He cleans his plate. She looks at the(if:(history: where its name contains "p2.4.a")'s length is 1)[ smear of fish oil on his plate, the splash of red tomato.](if:(history: where its name contains "p2.4.b")'s length is 1)[ bloody blush of jam like a bruise on his lip.] She stands, quickly. There is work to be done, though it is fruitless. (click-goto:?page,"p2.6")

(set: $BreakfastB to it + 1) She feeds him, as she has always wished she could. He eats. (click-goto:?page,"p1.8")

(set: $BreakfastA to it + 1)There is always food in her pantry, though she does not think a night has passed since she came to the Dream. Her plants do not grow, though she harvests. There is always milk in her cow. There are always fish in her trap. (after:2s)[She looks at the flutter of his throat as he swallows.(click-goto:?page,"p2.5")]

(set: $BreakfastB to it + 1)There is always food in her pantry, though she does not think a night has passed since she came to the Dream. Her plants do not grow, though she harvests. There is always milk in her cow. There are always fish in her trap. (after:2s)[She looks at the flutter of his throat as he swallows.(click-goto:?page,"p2.5")]

“Come on,” she says, and touches his soft cheek. (after:2s)[He stands and follows her.] (click-goto:?page,"p2.7")

This time, they spend their afternoon by the creek. (click-goto:?page,"p2.8")

She strips off her skirt and wades in, waist deep, letting the water run over her hands until her fingernails turn blue. It is a dream but the cold is real. (click-goto:?page,"p2.9")

“What are you doing?” he calls to her, from his spot in the sunshine on the bank. His hair is lit with the majesty of spring, and he looks as much a part of the landscape as the old oak trees and the chickens and the bubbling, ice-cold stream. [[“Nothing,”->p2.10]] she replies, and means it entirely.

He makes her at peace. (click-goto:?page,"p2.11")

She wades out of the water, her skin prickling into gooseflesh. He opens his arms for her and she dives into them, feeling his real warmth, and real heartbeat. (click-goto:?page,"p2.12")

He says nothing, but she likes the quiet. (click-goto:?page,"p2.13")

His hook finds only one fish, but that is enough for them for that night. They reel it in, and it finally emerges, fat and frantically writhing on the end of the line. She looks away as he kills it, but she takes it and scrapes it clean of scales. She runs her knife along the white stomach, reaches in and severs the guts from the flesh. She twists her fingers around the purple-red gills, and pulls them out, careful not to cut herself on the sharp edges. It rests, immaculately prepared, on her chopping block until the cast-iron stove heats, and she can lay it on the frying pan. She salts it, scatters herbs and spices until it is popping, spitting, and filling the house with a rich, oily scent. (click-goto:?page,"p2.14")

He is outside, she can see him through the window, cast in the orange light of the [[evening. ->p2.15]]

There is a breeze picking up, the same breeze that always comes at this time, and it lifts his hair, his light clothes. He is looking out, toward the far mountains which sit in resplendent purple shadows. (click-goto:?page,"p2.16")

He is looking out toward the mountains and he doesn’t look back. She frowns. (click-goto:?page,"p2.17")

[[Why doesn’t he look back?->p2.18]]

[[Why doesn’t he look back?->p2.19]]

[[Why-->p2.20]]

He turns, swiftly, just as the sun is consumed by the mountains. The land darkens. (click-goto:?page,"p2.21")

He strides towards the house, fast, as if he was suddenly cold. He opens the door, carefully latches it shut. (click-goto:?page,"p2.22")

“Are you alright?” he asks. [[“I- What?” ->p2.23]] [[“Yes?"->p2.23]]

“Are you alright?” he repeats, putting a hand on her arm. "Yes. Are you?" [[- she says, firmly.->p2.24]] [[- she says, unsure.->p2.24]]

"Good. Yes. I am,” he says, firmly. “Let’s eat.” They sit down, and she forgets the strange look in his face, until they undress and climb beneath her quilts, while the cast-iron stove puttered into nothingness in the next room. She gives him gentle kisses over his closed eyes, but sleep comes unusually quickly to him that night and he does not spend much time talking to her. (click-goto:?page,"p2.25")

“I love you,” he says, in the same strange tone as before. [["I love you too,"->p2.26]] she says.

She follows him to sleep, quickly, and as she sleeps, the Dream spools itself, and is made new. (click-goto:?page,"p3.1")

She wakes before he does. It always happens that way when she allows the dream to play until its close. (click-goto:?page,"p3.2")

She slides out of bed to put her feet in her boots. She collects eggs from her chickens, checking every box, though the boxes they lay in are always the same. She milks her cow early. (click-goto:?page,"p3.3")

When she comes back to the cottage, days has settled in. She deposits her eggs on the tabletop and pours her milk into a glass bottle. (click-goto:?page,"p3.4")

She wakes him by running her hands over his beautiful hair. (click-goto:?page,"p3.5")

She seats him at the kitchen table, and pulls out her chopping board. [[She cooks him grilled eggs, fresh tomatoes, smoked fish.->p3.6.a]] [[She cooks him rye bread, quince jam and a smear of soft cheese.->p3.6.b]]

(set: $BreakfastA to it + 1) She leaves places it in front of him, and sits to watch him eat. (click-goto:?page,"p3.7")

He holds his fork in one hand, lightly. (after:5s)[[[He doesn't move.->p3.8]]]

“What is it?” she asks. “Nothing,” he shakes his head, and smiles. “Nothing.” [[“What?”->p3.9]] she asks, concern rising in her voice.

“I’m just tired of (if:$BreakfastA > 1)[eggs."](if:$BreakfastB > 1)[jam."] (after:2s)[His expression changes suddenly, and he jerks his head up to look at her in the eye. (click-goto:?page,"p3.10")]

“I didn’t mean that,” he says. (after:2s)[[["Alright."->p3.11]]]

They go out, and he is attentive. He kisses her in the garden, and washes her in the stream, with the little cake of soap. (click-goto:?page,"p3.12")

(set: $BreakfastB to it + 1) She leaves places it in front of him, and sits to watch him eat. (click-goto:?page,"p3.7")

He is careful with her body; the delicate skin on her neck, her hair, her underarms, her calloused hands and feet. He does not need to be. He could not hurt her. (click-goto:?page,"p3.13")

She is careful with his in turn, and when she tries to look into his eyes, she finds that he wears a peaceful expression, like a mask. (click-goto:?page,"p3.14")

She thinks of resetting the Dream. END.