A Dream of Light

A sigh echoed over the hush of the building’s hallways decant in ivory and limestone. Silver paint adorned its columns with such enchanting vines and foliage that their beauty was only rivaled by the originals upon the outer walls. The exterior architecture of the estate was marveling. Missing the décor of towers upon each corner, its image fell just short of a fantasy castle. With the glint of solar light, the clear glass glittered and the stained windows painted colors upon the clean floors of its interior. Hazel eyes observed the scenery through a clear window on the third floor. Chrissie’s heart reveled in the gorgeous greens of the meadows and trees. The abode was surrounded—wrapped in them like a present from Mother Nature herself.

Soft pink lips created a gentle smile that caused the woman’s cheeks to change shape. From afar, her complexion resembled that of someone in her twenties, however, once at her side—face to face—another ten to fifteen years of age were revealed. Her thick red-brown hair curled and bunched about her head, framing her face and shoulders. She wore a long, loose summer dress with a low back. It was made with white lace and pastel yellow fabric. Matching sandals sheltered her toes. Her fragile hand subconsciously pressed against the smoothed alabaster windowsill.

In a daze, the woman inhaled the air about her. She tried to imagine the smell of the fresh grass and the clean breeze that swayed the branches of the miniature forest outside. Her eyes wandered about the meadow. Its entirety was green—or it was before it changed. Her eyes caught sight of a white trail of flowers. Chrissie’s vocals released a chuckle while her eyes curiously traced it back and forth. It led her vision to a young, pale woman. This was unexpected.

Chrissie found herself staring at a clone of her younger self. Her face was framed by a sideways-parted bunch of violet-red hair. Awe ensnared the middle aged woman’s interest in the familiar looking stranger. Her azure optics radiated with a light that reminded Chrissie of stars in a night's sky. The breeze outside whipped the copy’s hair into a dance, but it did not cease her returned gaze. Familiarity bloomed in Chrissie’s mind even before the girl’s pale, purple lips parted for speech—before the wind assisted the journey of the guest’s soft whispers to her ears.

“I miss you, Mama.”

The tears that streamed down the daughter’s face glittered in the daylight. Chrissie’s other hand clenched her fingers to her breast. Her baby’s name—she aspired to remember it. As she watched, the girl below was also clutching her hands in front of her chest—her fingers curled around a silver necklace with a crystal pendant. Chrissie couldn’t stand there any longer. Her body moved for her. Footsteps echoed loudly down the stairs and across the ball-like corridor that led to the front entrance. Forcing the giant palace-like doors to part, she slipped past them and hastily sped down the front steps.

The green color of the meadow was fading; it took her a second to realize that it had mostly been replaced by blossoming white flowers. Those flowers must have followed her daughter to this meadow. Their smell intoxicated her with memories. Her mind rewound with every step she took towards her almost carbon copy. Birthday parties, drawings, and mother’s day poems flashed before her eyes. Dances, cries, and songs followed. Smiles, familiar faces, and a worn down house adorned with the comforting aura of home came to her. It was as though she was in several places simultaneously. However, no name came forth.

The younger woman did all she could to hold back from tackling her mother with a hug. Deep down, she knew her mother couldn’t hold her like she used to. There was a limit—a boundary that she was forbidden to pass. How blessed she was to be standing there—mere feet from the parent she took after in mind, heart, and spirit. Although, her mother’s silence brought her pain; the connection between them had been broken years ago by a force they could not conquer.

Yet there she stood—before her idol. It did not matter that her garments were only a t-shirt and pajama bottoms decorated with purple and blue Deceptions symbols. Nor did the salty tears that seeped in between her lips and dripped from her chin to her fingers; even the chilled lines down her neck did not bother her. They were of no importance in comparison to the being in front of her. Her mother was just as beautiful as she had remembered as a small girl.

“My baby…” Chrissie still tried for that name. Breathing in, she could smell her daughter’s scent. That pleasant smell of flowers and sweet fruit always brought her happiness. The breeze swirled it around her; it's frigid temperature easily chilled her thin blood and caused her to hastily heat her fingers by crossing her arms. Hazel eyes locked with bright blue ones. She searched again; the name felt as if it were on the tip of her tongue. “My beautiful daughter…” Those blue eyes were deep with love and mourning.

More tears trickled upon the girl's hands and slid between her fingers; the liquid eventually absorbed into the crystal pendant that they entwined around. As if on cue, the flowers began to glow with a light of their own. Slowly, as their light intensified, a more recent memory took hold of Chrissie. This one became clearer as the flowers illuminated the area.

Abruptly, her lungs tightened as the sound of her daughter’s voice lulled her. What was she saying? Dry—her lips were so dry. Her eyes were so heavy. The light blinded her from the trees and the mansion—even the sunny sky. Only the young mirror image that stood before her remained.

Frightened, the woman tried to cling on to what she could. Her weakened fingers found the feeling of cold white sheets and plastic tubes from her memory. That voice helped quell her fears—preserved her focus—as she kept her eyes open. So long as it was there, she knew she wasn't alone. Her gaze remained on her older daughter. Yes, she had two daughters. One was sixteen and the other was eight. This was her older child—this adolescent from her memory; this young woman standing before her. She was her angel—her and her husband’s ray of sunshine. These recollections brought her peace until the flashback lured a foul stench, which caused Chrissie to choke and wheeze. It was the smell of smoke—no—of cigarettes. Yes, this odor that burned her lungs originated from her own body. She was tainted with that smell most of her life until that night that she—

The dream faded and tears swelled and began their descent upon Chrissie’s cheeks. She recalled her death—the passing of time occurred to her. Five years had passed since then. The mother understood the pain in her double's eyes and the longing in her face. Her vision reverted to the field of lustrous flowers. A smile returned to her features. How appropriate it was for them to follow her baby—her child of light and hope—wherever she went.

“My dear, don’t mourn. Don't miss me. You know that I live within you.” Reaching out to her daughter, she now understood her boundaries and what the penalty for crossing them would be. But why must they obey such a restraint? “I love you so much.” Grasping her shuddering daughter in a tender hug, she whispered. “Don’t ever forget that, Natalie Rae.” Upon contact, the white floral light engulfed them and the dream ended.