.: Entry Twenty-Nine :.
My name is Elliot Parker.
Tonight is the night. I arrived in the room that transforms into the flurry of books and stories. I finally get to see Adrian Kraig. After a few notes passing between dreams, tonight will be the night that I see who has access to my special room.
Somehow, even in another world, another consciousness, I am nervous. I mean, Adrian can get into this room. I wonder what books he looks at; what worlds he chooses when he is here?
I can feel myself falling into the dream, slowly. It’s familiar and reassuring as the wallpaper peels, the floor rumbles, the floorboards reveal the shelves and the books, the cases and the gorgeous books and did I mention the books?
I’m alone in the room, I don’t think I’m early, could I be late? I mean, well it works different here, it might not even be possible. The knot in my stomach grows, I know I shouldn’t dare open a book and go into another world. Instead I decide to find somewhere to sit down. Somewhere comfortable.
I find a little nook between a few of the book cases and manifest myself a few cushions to prop myself up. I run my fingers lazily over the covers of the books, itching to head back to see what happens next for the stowaway girl, but I know I can’t, I have to wait.
I can’t tell how time is really passing, but it feels long, and I didn’t realise it was possible to feel bored in a dream.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Elliot, are you here?” I can hear the voice in the room. It snaps me from the bored daze I had settled in. I feel like I know the voice. Like a distant memory, as I haul myself up from the cushions I find the response pass my lips, “Yeah I’m here.”
I am on my feet and this is it, the nerves twist in my stomach. I come from the little nook and into the clearest floor space.
I know Adrian. I mean, not from the dream world, from the real world. Adrian’s face, his voice, Adrian Kraig is not Adrian Kraig.
I would know Adrian Ferisle anywhere. I’ve been lied to. And he doesn’t seem remotely surprised to see me.
“Kraig is my mother’s maiden name.”
“You lied.” I feel like an echo. Like that is seriously all I can say?
“Elliot I am sorry.”
“Would you have agreed if you had known? Would you have still come here if you knew?”
“No… Yes… No, I don’t know. You lied to me.”
“I wanted somewhere that was ours, a safe place where we could reach each other.”
“So you created this room?”
“Yes. And brought you here. I’m sorry. There is just so much that I want to say, that I can’t say not consciously. It is stupid I know but you know me better than I probably know myself, I get in my own way, all the time.”
“Especially with me.”
“Exactly. You and I both know, I really fucked us up.”
“You don’t need me to confirm that. You don’t need me here.”
“I do. I want us to talk. I want us to talk in a way that I can’t mess it up by shutting down.”
I want to walk away. There is nowhere to walk to. The words are out before I can catch them. “Have you learned nothing by now?”
“What do you mean?”
“When we are together, hanging out, I can read you. I can read everything you are not saying and I give you a chance to say it and you never do.”
“You know I don’t believe that you can read people.”
“But you know I am right.”
“You always are.”
“So why here, why bring me here?”
“I want a way that we can speak, to be connected, to be together while I’m away.”
“Will you even be able to remember this in the consciousness?”
“I think it sort of becomes a dream that I can’t always remember.”
“You know I remember?”
“I am counting on it. I need you to know.”
“I already do. You betray yourself all the time. A look, a comment, a message, a smile, a pause when you think it but don’t say it. You told me you would never tell me that you love me. But you never anticipated that I read it in you. In the way your gaze softens and your smile twitches when I am reading it in you. It’s like you know already that I know.”
“I do, though, you know that right?”
“You can’t even say it now can you?”
“I didn’t know I needed to.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to hear.”
“It would. My conscious self, I will get in my own way. The conscious me, believes we can’t be together because he can’t give you what you want, what you deserve.”
“He can, if he really wants to”
“He’s not good enough for you. I am not good enough for you.”
“I have never, not once thought that.”
“I know. But my feeling of unworthiness, my feeling of not being able to give you what you want-”
“But you know I want you.”
“I know; I want you too. You have no idea.”
“I do; you keep forgetting that I know you.”
“The me that you see before you now? Or the me in the real world?”
“Elliot, I might not ever find the way to say this in the real world. But I do love you. You know that right?”
“I always have. Adrian, even here, you still haven’t learned to read me have you?”
“I don’t think I will ever be able to read you, you surprise me, all the time. The things you say, the ideas you have, the things you say when you are tired and you don’t worry about what you say, if it will be awkward or offensive and you just say what is on your mind. You are a surprise. A constant surprise. Do you hate me for this? For this dream?”
“Haven’t you learned anything at all? I can’t hate you, even when I try. I am a bit pissed off, but I can’t say that I hate you.”
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