Autumn’s work is almost done. It had already painted each path with tangy and auburn hues, the fiery colors of the leaves that lay on the ground gently contrasting with the withered and lifeless branches in which they once belonged to. Winter lazily stretches out its cold arms from slumber, slowly wrapping the air with icy temperature, unhurriedly taking over the previous season one day at a time.

The charm bracelet noisily rings on one of your little flailing arms as your bouncy five-year-old self happily hops her way to one of your favorite places, the one situated along a contour of trees of different varieties near your house, under the shade of your favorite lone cherry blossom tree. You especially like it at this time of the year because you can spend some quiet time alone watching the beautiful blast of burgundy and ginger colors nature offers you every peak of the autumn season while you trot towards your destination.

But as you were nearing your beloved spot, you notice a small curled-up ball of human under it. Pushed by curiosity, you proceeded to get closer and stopped to see who else discovered your special sanctuary. Sensing your arrival, the mushroom-headed figure looked up and revealed a face of a boy’s – a cute crying boy, you notice. He had jet black hair, milky skin and perfect half-moon eyes.

“Why are you crying?” You blurted out as soon as you saw his tear-stained face. The boy stared at you for a long time before answering.

“My father got angry at me.” He finally answered. “Because I… did something I’m not supposed to.” He sniffled, pouting.

You didn’t question more because that would be already intruding. Mother said once that it was rude to intrude. So instead, you sat close to him. You can’t help but smell his baby powder.

“Nah, that’s okay. We always make mistakes, and parents would always get angry. But it won’t last. Trust me.” You smile at him. He returns one to you, but it wasn’t enough to assure you that he’s okay. You look around and spot a fluffy dandelion.

“Ah! How about this?” You crawl towards it and pluck it carefully from the stem. “Do you know what my mom taught me whenever I have a problem?” You ask him, your eyes never leaving the downy flower. He replies with a head shake.

“You blow your sadness away like a dandelion!” You puff your cheeks and blew as hard as you could at the blossom, sending white feathery furs off to float in the wind. This time you see the boy’s whole face light up in amazement, a great big smile now present on his used-to-be melancholic face. He looks around and looks for another dandelion, plucks it and giggles after mimicking your puffy face before blowing.

You both spend the afternoon blowing off dandelions, climbing trees and playing hide and seek. Sharing your special sanctuary to someone isn’t a bad idea after all, you thought. You could do this more often.

The hours passed like minutes, and before you knew it your mother already found you and called you from afar.

“That’s my mom.” You point at the distant lady standing. “I have to go. See you next time!” You start to leave.

“Wait!” He exclaims.

You stop and turn back at him. “Yes?”

“I don’t think I can see you again.” He frowns. “We’re already migrating to America tomorrow...”

“Oh.” You frown with him. “Hmm, what to do…” You your chin, causing your charm bracelet to chime. An idea pops out of your mind.

“Here.” You remove the little bracelet from your wrist and hand it on to him. “You keep it. Whenever you’re scolded again, just look at it this bracelet and remember what I told you.” He receives and holds it out in front of him, studying it.

“What is this?” He asked, pointing to the aquamarine-colored stone dangling brightly with the rest of the charms.

“That? It’s called a turquoise. It’s my birth stone. And it’s my favorite color, too.” You answered smugly. “Take care of that bracelet, okay? I don’t want my lucky charm to be found by some random stranger.”

“Cool…” He cooed, holding it up higher so that the light of the setting sun reflects upon it. “Ah! By the way, what’s your name?” He asks, shaking the trinket so that it melodiously chimed through the wind. In response, you eagerly tell him your complete name.

“How about you?” You asked in return.

“Me?” Slightly cocking his head to the side, he took a long pause before continuing. 

“I’m…”

Your eyes flit open, the fragments of the recent reverie slowly decaying from your memory each second that passes. It’s that dream again. Staring at the blank ashen ceiling, you struggle to remember the last tiny bits of the very last scene you can recall. But just like what happens to every attempt you’ve made in the past few weeks with the same dream, you always fail to remember it. No matter how hard you tried.

Ironically, you remember that part of your childhood vividly – except for the boy’s face. You mean, you only saw him once, and you haven’t really paid attention to his features that much. You were like what? Five years old? Your ability on facial recognition was still probably developing that time. And remembering faces wasn’t quite your thing back then. Oh and you also forgot that part wherein he introduces himself, too. You just can’t successfully retrieve it from your long-term memory. It’s even funny how you’ve tried finishing his sentence with every possible name that pops up from your mind but to no avail, not even one name was familiar enough to ring a bell.

But it’s still a little weird, you know, dreaming the same dream every now and then. Normally, every situation – every scene –is different.  Is this one of those dreams that could be interpreted as a sign? Or is it just you? You decide to pick the second question. It seems quite sensible enough. For now.

Curiosity is inevitable when you think about the guy, though. You can’t help but wonder about him. You can’t help but wonder about how he is right now, whether he already forgot about you, or if he kept the bracelet. At times, you even occasionally doubt if he even existed. What if he was just an imaginary friend? You hope not. That would be creepy.

Drowsiness starts to influence your eyelids to shut again while you lay there, endlessly daydreaming about random things. This is one of the best parts about weekends: you can just stay there and roll about the bed or sleep till the afternoon. Or maybe watch a drama and finish the whole thing before the day ends. Those and a whole lot of other possible stress relieving activities can be done.  After all, you can’t unwind for the next few days of academic suffering.

After spending a couple of minutes on worrying about school stuff and eventually deciding to procrastinate anyway, you finally surrender to the temptation of sleep, diving into the deep depths of slumber and trance. Thoughts haze with vision as the last specks of consciousness ebb with the shut of an eye.