Episode

FIVE

I still have dreams. I suppose that shouldn’t come as such a surprise, but it is my only escape, so by “still” I mean I get to go somewhere in my sleep. I had a dream last night that I was sitting at the bottom of a well. It was more of a hole really, with jagged, uneven edges all the way down, but a rounded out bit where I sat, as if it was finished there. I sat there hopeless, not even bothering to look up. Then the dream elements came into play and I was another version of myself looking at me in the well. I could see the entire predicament. I was aware of the world outside of what the girl -me- in the well could see. Just on the other side of the rounded out cavern was a door. There was only a foot or so of rock in between. On the other side of the door was a ladder. There were windows along the way up to provide hope and air. It was so simple. Having dug this deep, it would be a quick job of escaping. I couldn’t tell the other me, of course. That’s how dreams are. I could only sit there aware of the hope while observing the hopeless version of myself who never even bothered to look up.

I was relieved to be awakened by him at this point. It’s not that he came to wake me, but he had started brewing coffee. The sound of the grinder blended with my dream as I woke, and I thought maybe I was drilling through the rock to save myself. This is the most hope he has given me since I’ve been here.

I made a slight jump as reality and dream crashed together. He turned and looked, gave me a slight nod and went back to grinding. Pleasant things are still pleasant. That is not to be denied. The smell of the brewing dark roast brings comfort. He fills a cup and hands it to me. A pang goes through my chest and head as I brush his hand taking the mug. It’s not exactly joy or fear; maybe excitement. Does every feeling have to have only one definition? I wonder if I even really know myself, but can’t spend enough time exploring the questions right now. He is focused on me and I focus back. I’m only slightly distracted by the warmth of the coffee emanating through the mug. The voices posing questions in my head quiet and turn to the sound of his voice. I’d forgotten it. The first day happened so fast. I wasn’t sure I could pick him out from a line-up if a group of men spoke a line of his dialogue, like, “Do you want a ride?” What if I got it wrong and chose the wrong man? I focus on his voice and facial features, memorizing every line and inflection and breath.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Why did I say that? This is not a good morning. I don’t wish one on him if this is how he goes about it. What a strange reflex. I vow to be more deliberate.

“How’s the coffee?”

“Good.” Dammit. I guess that’s true, but still. This is no place for a normal conversation.

“Do you take cream or sugar?”

“No.” I like this answer. His turn.

“I want you to believe that I wish you no harm. I imagine that it not easy to believe, but I hope it will only be a short time before I can prove it.”

I don’t reply. I’m curious and choose to insist that it is still his turn. I want to be convinced.

“I need your help, and think it is possible that you need mine,” he continued. “This is difficult to explain, but I can’t seem to find my way out of this place. I think you may be able to see the way out. You could free us both. I think.”

My dream comes flooding back at this point; the well, the door. It is all very confusing, since as far as I can gather, he is the one who brought us here in the first place. After I got in the car, I don’t remember much until I woke here with him, but how else would we have arrived? Despite the questions his turn provokes, I determine to stay silent. I don’t trust my words yet.

“I’m sorry. I’m not great at this.” He apologizes for his conversational skills, but not his actions which brought me here. I’m appalled and he sees it on my face. Maybe he thinks I’m offended by his conversational skills. I don’t know. I don’t know this man.

“I will let you enjoy your coffee and take some time to gather my thoughts. I’m sorry,” he says again. I cringe. He jumps up and is gone.