Silken cloth rubbed against her cheek as Celeste turned in bed. Her mattress at the hospital had never been this comfortable. The duvet enveloped her like a gentle, warm embrace. She ran her fingers over the soft sheets and pulled her blankets closer, a smile creeping into her face. Even if this was a dream, it was incredibly pleasant. The smooth duvet cover traced across her lips as she snuggled further down into the downy warmth.
Was she home?
Her left arm reached out and felt among the covers. This was a large bed, not the single one she had been kept in and the mental hospital. Could the hospital just be a memory? Maybe even a terrible, vivid nightmare? Perhaps now she was awake? Perhaps now she was home? She gave a contented sigh and pulled her arm back to wrap around the pillow supporting her head delicately.
Of course she was awake. Shadows didn’t act like that. There was no such thing as magic.
A breeze wafted into the room and breathed coolly on her cheek, evoking another contented sigh. Her whole body was sore. Perhaps she had tossed a lot in the night or she had overexerted herself the day before. She rolled her head, letting her other cheek sink into the pillow as she hugged it closer. Perhaps she could just stay here for a while, enjoying the warm comforts of her bed. Did she have anything to do today?
With a panic, she realized that she couldn’t remember anything from yesterday. Had she gone shopping? Had she cleaned the house? Did her aunt call yet again?
She opened her eyes and panic truly set in. This wasn’t her room. First of all, the color scheme was hideous. Pink purple and yellow? What was she? Five years old? She sat up and looked down at her clothes. Yes, they were normal pajamas but she had no knowledge of ever seeing them before. They weren’t even like the scrubs she had dreamed about. The breeze had come from a tall window made of a solid immobile pane of glass that opened at the top. There was no way she could fit through that hole.
The door to the room opened slowly. She leapt to her feet.
“Good morning...” the man with longish brown hair and glasses looked up at her as he entered, followed soon by a woman wearing a dark blue sweater and long skirt. The woman’s eyes watched Celeste closely, as if she was trying to penetrate her with an unspoken question.
The strange man gave the woman in her nightclothes a confused look. Celeste was standing on her bed, almost like she was ready to pounce.
“Who are you?” Celeste demanded.
“I’m Dr. Stable. How—“
“Where am I?”
“You’re... in a...”
Celeste’s core turned cold. “You’ve kidnapped me,” she accused. The woman looked devastated and took a few steps towards her. She was definitely younger than Celeste, though she couldn’t tell how much. That stare unnerved her. The other woman opened her mouth to speak but the doctor spoke first.
“No, actually. Well... you were kidnapped. We’ve brought you back and now we’re just monitoring your mental health—“
“So I can leave?”
The silent woman sighed, turning to look out the window.
“Uh...we haven’t finished examining you yet.”
“Can I go outside?”
“Oh, yes. You have a scheduled time to go outside.”
“Where am I?”
“I told you—“
“I mean, what city? How did I get here?”
“Your...” He exchanged a look with the woman in blue. “Family brought you here. They were concerned.”
“Where is my husband?”
“Your...what?” he asked.
“My husband. You said my family put me here. He is my family so I assume you needed his permission to do this.”
“Uh...” He shot a confused look at the woman by the window. She didn’t respond but her hand gripped the window frame so hard that he nails bit into the wood. “He wasn’t available.”
“You have no right to hold me prisoner here.”
“Technically we’re not holding you prisoner.”
“When can I leave, then?”
“You have to be examined first.” He took a steps towards her.
“You’re not going anywhere near me.”
The woman turned around, giving Celeste a pleading look. Why didn’t she just talk to her?
The man held up his hands defensively. “I won’t invade your personal space. Why don’t we talk?”
“No.”
“The sooner we talk the sooner your examination will be over.”
“And then I can go?”
He exchanged another look with the woman. “If we decide that you are mentally stable...”
“What is this?” Celeste suddenly fumed. “Last night I went to bed somewhere else and now I wake up here.”
“I can explain. A lot of your memory has been tampered with—”
“What am I really doing here? Are you messing with me too? Are you drugging me? Trying to tell me I imagined my whole life?”
The woman looked like she was about to speak but the so called doctor stopped her by holding up his hand. “We haven’t said that. You’ve just been through a traumatic time—”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” The woman drew closer to Celeste. Celeste’s bed was against the back wall so she had nowhere to go as she approached the foot of the bed.
“In that case, your lunch will be here in an hour. Let us know if you need anything,” he said as he walked towards the woman. Was she also imprisoned here? The man reached for her elbow but she held up her hand without taking her eyes off of Celeste. He stopped, reluctantly.
“You really don’t know who I am?” she finally spoke, looking up at Celeste. “You can’t even guess who I might be?”
The doctor pulled on her. “I told you, she doesn’t—”
“I’ve never seen you before in my life.” The woman’s head dropped and the man grabbed her arm.
“Remember my conditions,” he said firmly. The woman ripped her arm from his grasp and turned, rushing from the room. The doctor gave Celeste a polite bow and then turned to follow.
Celeste slowly got down from her bed and stepped onto the carpeted floor. It was obvious to her that there was something sinister behind all this. Who was that woman and why should Celeste know her? A large window stood in the wall to her left, open to a beautiful countryside. The colors hurt her eyes. She squinted her eyes against the brightness and traced the panes with her fingers. The ground couldn’t be too far of a drop. Would they start chasing her when she ran? How many were in on this?
She crossed to a wooden chair sitting next to a round wooden table and picked it up. She turned and crossed the room, swinging the chair at the glass. It bounced off, breaking a leg of the chair. The glass was unhurt.
Now where was she? What was she doing here? Last night she had been sleeping. She had a nightmare but that wasn’t something traumatic enough to be sent to the mental hospital. No matter how nice this place might be there was something deeply wrong about it. She crawled back into her bed and hugged a pillow against her body.
Her husband wouldn’t put her here without making sure she knew why, right? Yesterday she had fallen asleep with him next to her. Where was he?
She hugged the pillow tighter as her eyes started to tear up. She had just had a bad dream. Maybe she was still having one? Perhaps this was a prank? It was definitely a mean one but then again he sometimes took pranks a little too far. She rested her cheek on the pillow wishing he was besides her. She wanted to hear his voice, sense his heartbeat, and feel his breathing. She wanted her husband. She wanted to feel safe.
Something else was wrong. Something was missing. Something she should have with her. Her mind went through her house looking at any insignificant detail. Her heart ached not just for her husband but some something she couldn’t grasp. She couldn’t hold—she couldn’t find it hiding in her mind. She shifted and her foot touched something.
With her left hand she lifted the covers up enough to see where her feet were. Her body curled, holding onto the pillow still as she reached and took the object. The baseball. The baseball she had dreamed about. Except it was here. It was right here. Now it was covered in scribbles. Her husband’s handwriting. The scribblings were short phrases; I love you, I’m coming back, Be strong, Please, remember me. Nothing told her why she was here. Why was this happening to her?
She turned the baseball over and a chill shot through her.
You were not dreaming. I’ll explain everything.
She tossed the baseball away. How could he have known about her dream? Had she told him the nightmare and just forgotten?
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Her hands shook, she buried herself under the covers as she heard the ball roll to a stop.
Please, remember me.
“Please, be here,” she whimpered, pressing her face into the pillow. “Please come back, I love you.”
I’m coming back.
“Please, please just come back now. Come back.”
I love you.
She let a whimper break through her lips.
Be strong.
He would understand. He would understand if he saw her here, crying.
You were not dreaming.
But, she had to be dreaming. Sombra wasn’t real, she had never thought she was a pony.
I’ll explain everything.
Had her husband gotten into trouble? Was she being held captive until they could get something from him? What did they want here?
She cried for a while, wanting to sleep or wake up. She recalled what it was like to feel him there. She could also feel his hug again if she thought hard enough. What were they going to do to her? Was she about to lose her family all over again?
She still had his writing; his note to her.
She crawled over to the side of her bed where the baseball sat. It felt heavy as she picked it up and curled next to the pillow again. No matter what, at least she knew he was real. He was in her real life. He was in her nightmare. A part of him was here. He would find her. He would save her. She could trust him. She would trust him. Her body trembled. She would trust him. He was coming back for her. He would explain everything. She had to be strong. She had to be strong...
She forced her trembling down inside her until she smothered it. In the nightmare one thing had relaxed her that she could do right now. She forced her arms to push herself from the warm pillow and she turned to crawl from the bed. Even if this didn’t help it would be something familiar. She sat down on the left side of her bed and looked at the yellow wall in front of her.
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Waiting for what your heart desires can be really hard.
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So, you may try to take a shortcut. But this dishonesty never works...
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Because you didn't earn what your heart desired.
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The only cure is being honest with yourself, and others.
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And that's something every heart desires.
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