My grandmother often had the tendency to make decisions on a whim. Nevertheless, I was trapped by her eccentricity as she gave me constantly all kinds of her ideas. Led me on to go through with all those weird schemes she had in her head. Perhaps it was that exact eccentricity that began to infect me with the kind, leading me to have all kinds of weird ideas of my own, which included the one I was currently going with; that I should travel away to some continent on the other side of the globe. Away from home, and with no family at my side.

             Of course, it wasn’t exactly that bad of a decision, but I couldn’t help but have a great premonition that these decisions of mine would land me into an odd plight some way or the other.

             My siblings often said, that watching me grow up was a mixture of exasperation, anxiety and always, pride. They were glad to see the lady I had become, albeit with an unorthodox mind and way of doing things. Nevertheless, they sent me off on my trip to study elsewhere, with tears from my older sister and a hearty slap on the back from my older brother; sometimes I wondered if my older brother had ever gotten over me growing up from the little brother I used to be. 

             It was quite the unpleasant situation when I was stuck in a tiny space akin to that of a confessional, climbing altitudes to the skies while unable to move. Though perhaps not as quiet as a confessional, there was always the intermittent soft clatter of some air hostesses pushing carts past, the clacking of high heels, and never forget, the constant question of ‘Are we there yet?’ from the annoying five-year-old seated somewhere in the front.

            The airplane ride was not something I’d want to experience often, but seeing the place I had arrived to, I decided to leave my decision in the shadow of doubt, on whether this place was worth the ride or not. The long hours spent travelling completely drove my sanity to a different planet, and I got the chance to understand just how gruelling jetlag was. There was less than half of my brain in function, and my emotions were all exponentially enhanced. Almost as bad as being on my monthly's. Veering dangerously close, except for the fact chocolate wouldn't be any helpful in this situation. Improve the mood, perhaps, but it did nothing to get the people behind me to shut up.

            The minute I got off the plane, the soft wind that blasted me full in the face was a welcoming gesture. Having lived most of my life in rainy places, especially in England, I found it very pleasant. The sun was especially lovely, caressing my skin with gentle . With a smile on my face, I tugged at my luggage, making my way towards the nearest cab and going straight to my new home.

            A modern mansion, a hereditary estate from the family I had never known until my mother had even bothered to tell me about it. It stood prominent against the mountains, the most beautiful and quaint place. It almost reminded me of home, with the surrounding nature that seemed to add to its color and life.

            And the most exquisite garden; for the past weeks I’d been hiring someone to tend to it till I arrived. It was much larger than I had imagined it, and I could make out winding paths, framed by rows of bougainvilleas, chrysanthemums and orchids, some barely blooming as they warily peeked out from the ground. At any rate they would bloom quite soon,  Rather large hedges formed walls between the garden and the greenhouse, leading to a vine-covered arbor that resembled something rather antique.

            Entering the long, empty halls that reminded me disturbingly of a haunted house, I wandered long enough until I found a room that seemed to be mine. Pushing open the doors, I received my confirmation at the sight of my things. I scanned it briefly, sending silent thanks to my older brother that had been so excited to jump at the chance and dabble in his rarely practiced hobby, interior designing. I couldn't help but chuckle at the football left on top of a shelf, propped primly on a tiny cone to keep it from rolling off. Definitely my older brother still believing I was his little brother. 

            Pushing away that wave of nostalgia, I began to unpack the cardboard boxes that were so carelessly scattered around the room. Carefully digging out the objects, my fingers closed around the stacks of sketchbooks I placed on the top. I couldn’t help but flip open a few pages of some old ones; I blanched at some that were simply a mix of flamboyant colors and random patterns or scribbles. They were quite the artistic sin, from my younger days when I would use the paintbrush to paint all over myself as well as every blank space around me.

            I placed a finger on the stiff acrylic, nostalgia washing over me. Though painted roughly, or perhaps without much thought, I loved to see my old works from time to time; a reminder of how far I’ve come. Nevertheless, I loved flipping through and drawing such odd symbols, even if none of it made sense. The occasional star, or perhaps unicorns.

            I’d always loved unicorns as a toddler.

            Slipping away my sketchbooks into one of the many shelves that stood in my room, I rolled up my sleeves and set to work, unpacking everything. Enough books to fill a library spilled all over the floor; I was half-tempted to drop everything and simply begin to read ‘Call to Arms’ by Lu Xun, but nevertheless, self-control won over as I busied myself with the tedious work. There were enough shelves and books for me to stand back and proudly look at the personal library I had always liked to have in my room. Little decorations of small crystal lamps and the occasional tiny pots of flowers, some with hepaticas and fairy foxgloves. Right in the middle was a cluster of comfy looking beanbags and a floor sofa, surrounding a small glass coffee table. I beamed at the arrangement; definitely a place where I would often visit and engage in the interesting reads I had stocked up on, and perhaps every now and then a place to engage with my thoughts. 

            By the time I had finished, there were dust bunnies on the floor from my old books, and empty cardboard boxes strewn everywhere; my grandma had often chastised me since long ago to be quite a disorganized person in terms of my own belongings. I had often retorted by calling it an organized mess, but even this was a stretch. On my desk was my half-eaten sandwich, I had gotten it from the airport sometime earlier and it was getting pretty soggy after being left for so long. What excuse of a dinner I had was the bag of bergamots I didn't remember getting sometime after the long exhausting flight. I could only briskly get to work and continue cleaning after that, dragging the hoover around and mopping up the mess. 

            When the room finally looked spick and span, I didn’t really care about where the cleaning supplies were left, being much too exhausted to even care. I stumbled half-asleep into the shower, the warm water a relief as it greatly helped relax my muscles. I dried my hair briefly before collapsing face-down on top of my bed, woozy and tired. The minute my face touched the pillow was the moment I out.

            Honestly, I wasn’t quite sure why I even made the decision of going to sleep with damp hair and only half a soggy sandwich with bergamots in my stomach. It was often that I’d get weird dreams when I went to sleep hungry, and it ended more than once with me questioning my subconscious on whether I was insane or not. I was possibly crazy, but I didn’t really mind due to my exhaustion at this rate.

            Sometimes, I dreamt up something odd, where I would always see this unknown woman and me. We were just placed in a large, endless grassland, surrounded by a white blank sky that was completely void of color. The wind, blows relatively gently, though at times it became strong, ushering me towards the woman. I could never see her face clearly; it was like there was a constant mask of fog obscuring her face from me.

            Yet, I always knew that she was smiling straight at me, every time I met her.

            That night was especially odd, with ice creeping down my spine. I was extra wary in my dream, walking carefully across the endless grassland. It was with a romantic felicity; wheat heads swayed among the emerald, white butterflies bobbing in the breeze. I scanned the lovely scene for a long while, wondering where the woman was. I didn't have to look long, following a river that seemed to glow slightly in the light, eventually coming up to a cluster of trees.

            The woman was standing by a willow tree, her body hidden by the trunk. But showing just enough of her body that was carefully fitted into a dress that seemed to be a mirage of colors; it was disorienting and the more I tried to work out its color, the more confusing it seemed to become until I decided to give up and look away. I peered out, half-inclined to call out to her, but common sense quickly won over my curiosity as I walked over warily, eyes narrowed.

            The closer I got, the more my feet seemed to grow a mind of its own, pulling me towards the woman no matter how hard my brain was commanding them to stop. Even if I tried to dig my heels in, it was like an odd force would gently scoop the ground from under me, and continue to let me slide forward.

            Honestly, it was like gravity had a grudge against me or something.

            When my feet came to such a sudden stop, my arms were flailing unceremoniously in a fight for balance; I would prefer to keep my face away from the ground, thanks. 

            It was the first time I was at such close proximity to the woman. In every other dream she was always some distance away, seemingly watching and observing me. The colors on her dress were so vibrant they were enough to confuse the eye, perhaps even disorienting enough to irritate and provoke ones observance. They mixed constantly, like the patterns in a kaleidoscope, where lines would suddenly commit suicide, plunging themselves off in outrageous angles and eventually destroying themselves to form new, much more baffling yet at the same time breathtaking images and patterns.

            I was still unable to see her face, no matter how hard I tried to focus my vision on her head, it was like my focus would be thrown off in a constant. It made me dizzy enough to give up, and could only rely on my overwhelming imaginative power to make the assumptions and lead to all my wonderful fancies; what on earth did that woman look like, exactly?

            My mind was much too occupied by the rush of thoughts to notice she had kneeled in front of me. I almost jumped out of my skin at the initial touch of her hand, so akin to the caress of the cold north wind. Gradually relaxing to her touch, I slowly looked to her face, the feeling of familiarity so strong that frustration made me want to cry. The memory was so close, yet every time I reached for it, it seemed to slipped away, just within the touch of my fingers. She cupped my face with her smooth palm, rubbing her thumb down my cheek with the gentleness I’d imagined my mum would’ve had.

            It had always been so discouraging to not have any advice, or even have the softest whisper of kind words waiting for me at home.

            I had never seen so much emotion on something blank before. Even if I could not see the contours of her face, not even her eyes, or nose. I couldn’t even make out or hear what she was saying. And yet, I could feel such intense happiness from her the moment she touched my cheek. I could almost even make out the feeling of love radiating from her being as she cupped my face with both her hands, the colors seeming to swirl even more disorientingly at her mirth.

            A soft, wonderful tinkling noise made me rather surprised; the laughter of the woman before me was almost contagious, if not for the absolute strangest situation I was currently in. I was half-inclined to finally ask her who she was, when I felt her hands run through my hair. It was such a soothing, yet familiar gesture that I couldn’t help but lean into her touch, emotions running amock, wild in me as I struggled to hold onto that ungraspable memory once more, but it slipped away faster than an eel from wet, slender fingers.

            I was frozen to her touch when her warmth disappeared from my hair, and from my side. My head snapped up, and I watched as she seemed to be pulled away from me by some invisible force, her form growing more and more distant the further she moved backwards. Her arms were still outstretched towards me, but I could feel her fading presence filled with simple acceptance, that she knew it was her time to leave my side once more, just like the way everytime I dreamt of this scape.

            Wait!

            This was the very first time we had contact in so many dreams, and something in my heart pained me at seeing her go. My mouth moved in a silent plea, my hand held out to try and hold onto her outstretched arm. Our fingers almost seemed to touch her hand as I leapt up, watching as the distance between our hands close. But the minute my finger touched her glowing appendage, it faded into a million sparkling stars the minute my fingers closed around it. I stared in utter shock, staring up at where she was before looking down and realizing that I too, was slowly fading away.

            Confusion overwhelmed me, as I could look through my torso and see the grass I was standing on. My hands were slowly breaking away, floating up into the sky in tiny fragments. Falling to my knees to sudden exhaustion, my eyes fluttered close as I gave way to the lucid dreams that threatened to, and eventually swallowed me, cradling me far away from the dreamscape...that strange woman….that familiar, beautiful silhouette…

*******

           My eyes slowly opened, the soft breeze blowing the curtains apart and caressing my skin. Sunlight filtered in through the curtains, shining on my face and illuminating the dim room. I was frozen for a moment, staring at the ceiling, my expression blank as a sheet as my thoughts became turbulent along with the dream.

           I couldn’t be quite sure for how long I stayed dormant, but as I slowly came to my senses, I decided to calm myself down, keeping myself still as I wished the lucid dream away.

           It wasn’t the first time I had such dreams, and I believed that it wouldn’t be the last.

           As much as I pondered how strangely vivid the dream had been, I brushed it aside, deciding to think about it later. I had much more important tasks at hand. One being, to soothe my currently growling stomach and another to tame my rat’s nest of a hair.

           With a determined decision to absolutely not be bothered by something so seemingly mundane, I grabbed my hairbrush and gave it a good strong yank down my hair.

            …Not my best decision, but definitely one that had me screaming wide awake.

            And with that, my entire day was spent cleaning up one the last things I needed to put away in my house, as well as arrange everything related to school, such as uniforms and all that messy stuff. Finally being able to put down my phone after a long morning, I was finally given the time to relax, my checklist empty and lying at the bottom of the trash.

            I found myself sitting upon the veranda of my mansion, my skirt smoothed out tidily beneath my thighs, my hair swooping around me as the wind teased with the long curls, my eyes closed as I listened to the symphony of the trees and the flowers.

            I smiled in contentment, beautiful precious petals caressing my skins, as soft blossoms fell from the trees and decorated my hair, in my hands a tiny peony that flew from who knows where.

            You shall bloom, from here onwards and wherever you go.