Soledad's Dreamscape

Empty, gray sky stretching out as far as the eye can see. Flat desolate landscape, hues of gray and tired black, featureless except for dark stones and dead trees twisted into fantastical shapes by wild, lonely winds.

I know this place, she thinks, in her not-dream. I've been here before.

Knowing how it always goes in her dreamscape, Soledad takes a step forward. And another. And another.

She reaches a mere, unnoticed until she was almost at its edge, its waters perfectly still, perfectly gray. Reflecting the nothingness of the empty gray sky. A small rocky outcrop hangs at one side, protectively, a few feet above the ground.

Soledad climbs up and perches there. She leans over slightly, and sees the empty pool fill with a face - hers. She stares at herself.

My face, she thinks, is mine, but I do not know it. My eyes, my eyes, windows to my soul, but I do not recognize it.

I am so tired. I am weary.

Her dark eyes stare back at her, numb and passionless.

I do not have the emotional strength to feel anymore - not joy nor anger. Not even sorrow. I cannot grieve. I cannot feel. I have no tears left to weep.

And these thoughts fail to scare her. Soledad is numb, through and through. The core of her soul is not even ice - it is empty.

A small pebble, dislodged by her presence, falls into the mirror-smooth waters. Though not very large, the mere is deceptively deep.

She watches the weary ripples distort her eyes, her lips, her face. Her reflection smiles, laughs, weeps, dances. It speaks to her.

I recognize you now, she thinks to the distorted, reflected eyes. Wait for me, I am coming.

And she jumps into the mere

...cold cold cold icy cold...

her body drifting towards the bottomless deep

...so so cold feel so safe I can feel again feel again feel so safe I'm sinking so safe though I can't swim so damn safe...

and she could see, through the surface, past the streams of bubbles that left her lips, the gray, empty sky.