Falling to Nowhere, Standing on Nothing

Just how much of a dream is reality? When Rachel's life undergoes radical changes, her dreams follow, summarizing Rachel's life in the bizarrely abstract medium of subconscious influence.

“People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.”

― Neil Gaiman

*  *  *

Rachel woke up in her bed, asleep. She looked around and saw a vast grayness, and empty void, filled only with the occasional floating grey bubbles, as there always were here. Her bed moved out from under her as she stepped onto an invisible ground, stumbling like she always did. She walked further into nothingness and entered a fully enclosed hallway, with a colorless rug lining the floor and colorless walls towering over her on both sides. Her gaze drifted down the hallway and settled on a figure in the distance, a beautiful figure, immaculate to the last detail, and Rachel ran toward her, yet no matter how fast she went she got no closer. She recognized the figure, though its face was hidden behind long flowing hair and its back was turned. It was most definitely Jess.

Rachel woke with curiosity.

Rachel slept; once more she awoke in the grey, bubbly limbo; once more she stumbled as she stepped into the vacuum. She took off running, and found the barren corridor she had been in before. She ran with passion, ran to reach Jess. Fruitful were her efforts as she approached the woman who faced away, smooth arms hanging limply by her sides.

“Jess,” Rachel called, her voice soft yet booming.

Jess turned around and revealed a head that lacked any face; every emotion, every feeling, every fear and every pleasure tucked away behind a mask of smooth skin.

“Talk to me, Jess! Please!” Jess didn’t talk, her non-existent eyes staring straight through Rachel, picking her apart from the inside while Rachel could not even see what was on the other’s outside.

Rachel woke with determination.

Her bed fell to nowhere and Rachel jumped off, a perfect landing onto the gray void. She found Jess a ways off and went to her side, unsure of what she might see. Jess tuned to her, a sparkle in her bright eyes and a smile that could lift Rachel up during her lowest moments. The grey around them slowly became more flushed, and turned peachy. Jess held out her hand and Rachel took it, and they held each other as Jess let something fall into Rachel’s palm. Uncurling her fingers, Rachel saw a red petal from a red rose, and felt the rhythmic beat of its heart, continuously pressing into her palm. She clenched her hand and the petal moved to an unknown pocket somewhere on some article of her clothing, safe. Jess’s voice rang; “Come back again!”

Rachel woke wearing a light smile.

Again she woke. Jess was right in front of her, the peachy bubbles floating carelessly around her, her smile filling up the emptiness, and Rachel was content.

“You came back,” Jess uttered without a sound. And Rachel opened her palm, the rose petal materializing to resting in the middle, so Jess could reach out and take it again. Jess held it to her chest and she folded in on herself, becoming the most beautiful and vibrant red rose Rachel had ever seen. The rose fell softly into Rachel’s awaiting hands, and she held Jess tightly. The sky and the ground and everything else turned a vibrant pink-red, and Rachel felt like she was floating more than ever.

Rachel woke with a pounding heart.

Rachel was already awake, for she’d been in a dream all day when she usually slept. She sat in the pink bubbles and held tightly onto the rose, wallowing in its beauty, losing herself in its aroma, basking in its allure, but soon wooden flooring seeped into nonexistence and lifted the two onto a stage, and when Rachel opened her eyes she saw a crowd of faceless figures, in everything from a torn T-shirt to a three piece suit, looking back at her with their not-eyes. The nothingness turned a nasty shade of purple as beams of bright light shot from where the faceless people’s mouth weren’t, and hit her right in her thoughts.

“You’re disgusting.”

“How can you hold close a flower such as yourself?”

“You don’t know how to love!”

The beams of words were piercing Rachel’s heart, and as the audience grew in size and menace, Rachel ran from the stage, through the sticky purple vacuity and through the painful hatefulness until walls grew around them, isolating them in darkness. Rachel escaped inside herself, and a daisy fell to the cold floor and lay across the rose.

Rachel woke trembling.

When Rachel again stirred, she was already moving, her white petals carried at a brisk walk by Jess through the heavy blue bubbles. A faceless stood in the distance, and fired bullets of words at Rachel, but Jess turned, stationing herself between Rachel and the offender. Rachel heard nothing as walls formed a hallway around the two and protected them, kept them to themselves. The sky faded from blue to deep pink as Rachel found her feet and arms and head, and the pair continued onwards and saw a market stand run by an old lady who busied herself with her knitting, but Rachel wasn’t close enough to see what she was working on. She tried to move nearer but Jess held her back, pointing to a figure who approached the woman. The black-cloaked figure  walked up to the stand just as the old woman finished her knitting, cutting the string with glistening scissors. She held up the final product; a perfect rose, and a perfect daisy. The cloaked figure took the daisy. Turning to face Rachel, the figure pulled back his hood to reveal a stark white face, devoid of skin and flesh and blood. The bubbles turned a painful yellow.

Rachel woke with a sick feeling in her stomach.

Rachel awoke in her bed, blinded by the horrific brilliance of the yellow void. She stepped onto the ground-that-was-not-ground but stumbled and fell, overwhelmed by a feeling of eerie trepidation. She got back on her feet and looked to see Jess standing before her, eyes wide and eyebrows lowered and mouth open in shock, holding her rose before her in shaky yet beautiful hands.

“Where’s my flower?”

Jess stared blankly at something behind Rachel and she turned to see the cloaked death standing fifty paces away, a familiar daisy clutched in his bony hands. His fingers pinched a single petal and he pulled, and everything flashed bright white, blinding Rachel as she screamed in pain. When her sight returned she saw death with his fingers on another petal, but before he could pull, Jess stepped out from behind him, and held out her rose. Time slowed and death smiled a creepy smile, a terrifying smile, as he reached out and grabbed the rose, letting the daisy fall from his grasp and be carried by a sudden gust of whistling wind to Rachel’s feet. Death ripped off a rose petal, and Jess cried out, and tears grew heavy in Rachel’s eyes. Death picked another; “No!” Another; “Stop!” Another; “You’re hurting her!” Another and Rachel closed their distance in a quarter of a second, her fist inches away from hard, white bone. Death just smiled, snapping the rose in two.

Rachel woke weeping.

*  *  *

When rachel came to, she was lying on the invisible ground, her face wet with tears. When she stopped crying she picked herself up, but had trouble finding any footing on the void black as death’s cloak. She took a step and tripped over nothing and fell back to the sky, but again rose to her feet, stumbling forward through the blackness, a destination in mind.

Rachel reached the old lady with her knitting and her stand and stood before her, her face sullen and her newly-dried eyes tired, yet determined.

“Sorry, dear. I’m afraid we’re both all out of roses.”

“No. I know she’s still somewhere.”

The lady sighed. “It’s always the doves that are stubborn.”

“No! She’s not! It can’t be!”

But it is, said the lady’s face. Her stand melted into a vast garden full of every every flower you could think, except for a rose.

Rachel woke alone.

Rachel turned, leaving the old woman to her knitting. She trudged on through the blackness, putting foot before foot, again and again, hour after hour, until she came face to face with those with no face. The bubbles adopted a fiery red hue as the faceless miscreants threw their words at her.

“It’s for the best. Maybe you’ll change, now that it’s over.”

“It was unnatural; of course it wouldn’t last.”

Rachel filled with anger and hate and loathing and abhorrence, lashing out at the faceless figures. “This is all your fault! Your words and offenses led to depression and doubt, and it took all of her to fight it and she had nothing left for the rest of herself. Your fault! Your fault! Your fault! YOUR FAULT!”

“She blocked out our words.”

“She taught you to do the same.”

“You have forgotten her lesson in your rage.”

“Screaming won’t bring anyone back.”

Rachel would have cried if she hadn’t already exhausted her supply of tears. Rachel knew they were right and hated that they were and hated that she knew. She turned tail from them and ran through the bloody redness.

Rachel woke in a bitter rage.

Rachel kept running. She ran and ran, and she ran, and eventually she slowed as the void donned a greenish mask. A small shop fell from the sky and rooted itself in front of her, and she walked in, a radio blasting silence at her. The walls were painted with pictures of shelves and goods, and the glass display cases that lined the counter were dusty and barren. Behind a black cash register stood death, a sly smile on his face as he handed Rachel a piece of paper listing goods and prices.

Menu

A way to move on- All of your love.

A way to forget- Rachel’s heart.

A way to end it all- One daisy.

A way to recover what is lost- Sorry, kid.

“You need to lower the price,” Rachel ordered, gesturing to the final item without moving a muscle.

“My prices don’t change.” Death’s voice was a low rasp, and his smile stayed perfectly still as he talked.

“Please.” Rachel held out a daisy; it was missing one petal.

“Sorry, kid.” Death unraveled into smoke and the building around him vanished, the noiseless screech of the radio fading as Rachel was once again surrounded by a familiar nothingness.

Rachel woke without hope.

Rachel was still. She looked at the daisy in her hands, looked hard and long and concentrated on it with all her might. Her body melted away and her mind fell into the flower, the white petals laying down on absolutely nothing. She was surrounded by a soul-crushing blueness, but her soul could not be crushed any more. She thought of the last time she had been a flower, held by Jess, protected by Jess, but no longer, but never again. Jess was gone and she had no one to blame and no way to get her back and all she could do, all she wanted to do, was lie unmoving, soaking up the blue bubbles. She’d been denied by fate and exiled by strangers and robbed by death, and she just wanted a break, a break that lasted forever.

Rachel woke with an indescribable sadness.

Rachel woke and still she lay there. She slept again and woke once more but it was the same day after day, month after month. Yet ever so slowly, ever so gradually, the emptiness lost its saturation, the blueness slowly fading, dulling, until Rachel existed once again in a grey expanse. And she stretched out her arms and her neck, standing on her feet for the first time in an indiscernible period of time, and felt the last strands of melancholy and regret disappear from her subconscious.

Rachel woke up.

Author's Note

Be honest. Feel free to completely roast me. Although, keep in mind that a lot of grammatical inaccuracies were implemented for effect, purposefully.