Usually it takes weeks to dream of this again, I thought as I took in the familiar blue scene.
However, I didn’t mind having to see this again because truth be told, I enjoyed it. Whoever that smile belonged to was one gorgeous person and if I never got to see them in real life then I would admire them from my dreams.
Instead of looking down at the flame getting closer to my body, I looked up at the face hidden in the shadows. My heart went erratic the closer that perfect face came to mine.
Before I could see much else, the colors shifted and pink swirled into my vision.
I blinked and when my eyes opened I was in my room. Except, it was a different room from earlier in my life.
I got up and walked down the hallway into the kitchen where I could hear noises. The first thing I saw was my mother making sandwiches. I felt a sense of deja vu wash over me and I could almost swear that there would be red Legos somewhere nearby...
I walked around the counter dividing the kitchen and the dining room and looked down at myself, only three years old.
Large Legos were spread all around me.
Beside the smaller me sat a ghost. Her skin was pressed tightly against her bones like a mummy’s and in some parts it had begun to fall off, exposing the bone within. Her eyes were sunken and almost entirely black. She wore a modest nightgown that hung off her frame in tatters.
The two were both giggling and the ghost pointed to a lego. The smaller version of myself grinned and reached over to grab it.
“Red,” I’d told her.
“That’s right,” she answered softly, her voice managing to be appealing despite the raspiness of a decomposed vocal chord.
My mother tilted her head in confusion. “What was that, honey?” she asked.
I had smiled, so oblivious to the fact that my mother’s smile was too tense, to wide.
“I was talking to ‘Livia, mama.”
“Olivia, huh?” my mother asked gently as if the hairs on her arms weren’t raising. “Is she your imaginary friend?”
Imaginary friend. That’s what she had called all of the ghosts I spoke about, from when I was too young to know that I shouldn’t talk about them with her.
“No, mama,” I heard myself say. “She’s right here!”
I heard shuffling and plates being moved to the table. I opened my eyes to see my mother bend down next to me and stick her hand right through Olivia’s face.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Olivia,” she said, moving her hand up and down as if she was shaking someone’s hand. “Now come on sweetie, time for lunch.”
“What about ‘Livia? It’s rude not to give her food.”
Mother rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“Venus, baby, Olivia isn’t real. She’ll be fine if we don’t feed her.”
“It’s okay, sweet girl,” Olivia spoke up as she saw little me about to argue back. “I don’t think your mother wants to hear about me. Let's keep this our little secret, okay? I’ll be back tonight to tell you a story.”
I watched the ghost walk up the stairs and look back with a gentle smile on her face. I could feel the warmth in my own chest as I remembered her more clearly— she’d been a comforting ghost. The only reason she’d been able to go inside the house was because she’d been killed in it.
Before I could allow myself to feel bad for Olivia, the scene changed again.
Grey puffs of smoke cleared away into another repressed memory. In this one, I appeared fourteen years old.
I looked around and behind me I saw the house. Inside, I could see my mother smiling. Her eyebrows came together in the middle in a confused frown and I turned around to find my teenage self talking to another ghost.
Of course.
I remembered the day she wandered into our yard, and from that day on, she’d been one of my closest friends. Probably my only friend.
She was eighteen when she’d died from a drug overdose. She had been so animated, so happy to finally find someone to talk to after two years of walking around alone. I had been happy to find a ghost who understood whatever girl problem I was going through at that time. It didn’t matter that her eyes were clouded and her skin was in the early stages of decomposing.
My throat became blocked.
I didn’t remember whatever meaningless conversation we were having that day, but I remembered this day like a childhood nightmare. I watched the girl fade and my other self made her way indoors.
My younger self stopped by the entrance.
“Uh, hey, mom.”
I walked closer and saw my mother on the other side, wringing her fingers as she avoided our gaze.
“Hey, baby. Did you have fun out there?”
“Yeah, it was great. Swinging on the swing is great.”
My mother took a random rag and started wiping the counter as she snuck glances out the window.
“Was there someone out there with you? I thought I saw you talking.”
I could see my other self analyze my mother— the way she grasped the rag tightly in her hands, the way her arm slightly trembled. Her movements jerked as her body stiffened with every glance outside.
“What?” I had faked oblivion. “Oh, you mean just now? No, I was practicing my acting skills. There’s this play I want to audition for but…”
My mother sagged as nervous laughter escaped her lips.
“Oh! I just thought… Well, it doesn’t matter. Why don’t you tell me more? Maybe I could help.”
The scene shifted and I saw myself in the same place, but a different day— the next day, if my instincts were correct.
They were.
The ghost was next to the swing, waiting for me to come home from school. I saw myself step inside the yard walk through the girl, flinching as the cold energy hit her. The ghost looked down at herself and looked up with hurt in her eyes.
I closed mine.
Darkness surrounded me but my mind was engraved with the faces of all the ghosts I ignored since then, having decided that I wouldn’t put my mother through the awkwardness of watching me talk with myself anymore.
It was hard at first because I would accidentally look into their eyes or turn when they talked to me. Sometimes I would even answer them, not realizing until too late that none of the living people had spoken.
Guilt began to crawl up my skin and I opened my eyes. I stood in an empty hospital room. I looked around wondering if it was another memory I’d forgotten but I didn’t see anyone.
I was alone.
In the farthest corner, I saw dark smoke slip in between the cracks. My breath hitched and I took a step back as the smoke kept coming, covering nearly half the room in black and blue.
My feet tripped over themselves and I stumbled backwards, my legs hitting the edge of the hospital bed. I took small steps, moving sideways until the bed was between me and the thing across the room.
I felt my eyebrows dip together as the smoke compressed and began to take form. My eyes widened as the silhouette of a person stood in front of me.
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