Time Beyond A Dream

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The half-moon hung flat on a wintry night in the Cold Mountain. Giving no hint of the bloodshed to come.

But in this icy barren territory, I felt it wash over my skin, the brisk wintry blast, simply to be greeted by the rhythm of my heart, repeatedly and again. Am I forever alone!?

Everything froze as he drew his sword, its sharpness would injure the air apart. Pressing down with his power and superior strength, he dragged the blade backward towards her face. When she least expects it, he knocks the blade from her grasp until it lands just unreachable. And steer his elbow into her face almost knocking her unconscious. He gets to his feet standing over her, the tilt of the sword is pointed towards her heart in both hands-on grips, he plunges the sword into her rib cage.

She gasped for air. The sound of a sword being drawn from a scabbard signaled her end. Something about his eyes captured my attention, his eyes informed me a story no voice had ever dared to tell.

His blade found a sanctuary in my rib cage, urging its way into my precious heart. I didn't utter nor attempt to scream, for my sorrow is beyond me. The agony was unbearable, raising, and shattered me. 

_____

In silence Catherine bolted upward, her thoughts were uncertain, disturbed, realizing that she was inside the bus. She had that winter dream again? How cliché. She thought while hurriedly steps out of the bus.

Winter in London was by far the grandest on earth, some say the British love of flowers was on passionate display throughout London in its alluring flower shops and their animated displays, which spill out onto the pavements and street corners. Rainbow shades of beautiful cut flowers in buckets, bouquets tied in bright ribbons and miniature house plants entice passersby to stop for a closer look and, of course, a photograph. But here she was strolling or rather running like a crazy individual yet, the air was colder than ever.

At the same time last year, Catherine went to work for the first time, excited and naive. Now every morning was spent accomplishing the necessary preparation on autopilot while her brain prepares for every plausible scenario it can, finding solutions to problems that don't yet exist - just in case.

Catherine couldn't think of a time any of it has paid off, it's more a method of her worries than anything else. At least she knew that much. By the time she's on the bus she "knew" how she was going to deal with her boss; and by the time she's off the bus, It was drizzling on her face and there was absolutely no point in trying to pretend an umbrella will do her any good.

She understands that this was the perfect day for her to enjoy one of London's many free museums, galleries, and have some serious soul inspiration for someone's winter days, or was it not? Despite the short days and miserable weather, Londoners have plenty of reasons to go outdoors this time of year. One of the coolest wintertime activities was to don some skates and hit one of the outdoor ice rinks around town.

But No! To her, that was impossible for someone like her who needs to work to pay the bills, she doesn't have the luxury to enjoy London winter as per tourist perspective, and as the wind blows in her face, thinking about her boss angry face, she guesses that this time he will fire her! Anytime soon, or maybe not today but sooner.

She was Catherine Ruiz, her close friends call her Cath, she had silky long blond hair and eyes so green and brown they sparkled like jewels. That's her mom's opinion though. Standing five feet and five inches, yes, she was just the typical looking girl in London, sentimental and vulnerable. When hurt, she withdrawn into a cloud of silence, dull and empty but eventually transpiring from her shyness with tricks and giggle that cover up her true feelings.

She can become moody and gloomy when depressed, if ever there was a single moment of total change, that gives meaning to her life it was the moment of her birth. At that moment, she stepped through a door in time into a new reality - the reality of human life. Yes! that was her mom's idea of giving her confidence specially when she needed it most.

She works as an IT in Lavasoft, Founded in 2001, her company was a custom software development company, spanning its presence across various global locations like the US, Canada, the UK, Australia, and India. Their team of 200 plus IT professionals offers business growth with their knack for technology platforms and luckily she landed a job as a PA for the Application Manager, Mr. Jonas Nasir. It was not the best as per se but who she was to disagree with? It pays the bills and that was all that matters.

This early morning, the sky has an extraordinary dash of a little orange cast onto the otherwise pale grey cloud, the day promises to be like every other day, but now it was a different story. It was raining, reasonably cold and chilling, but, oh boy! She was wrong, it seems like the morning is yet to begin.

As she walks, pressing the folders and a little brown purse to her chest, and turned the corner to walk down the hall. She was wandering rather quickly and lost deep in thought, she didn't even seem to notice the people around her. She then looked up to see a man, at least one step in front of her, obscuring her path, eyes broadened as her feet stumbled over his and her staff fell on the floor in a clutter.

"Woah, sorry I-" the man rushed into an apology as his hand wrapped around her waist and held her there, safe from falling, their eyes met for a moment, and then she forced herself to look away as she flushed bright red. "I didn't see you miss."

"My papers. Dammit!" Catherine screamed in embarrassment, as she smells the expensive cologne the man used.

"What on earth are you doing here at this corner?" She asked, thinking that this man smells like fresh flowers.

"You mean, why this corner and not another corner?" He asked. Feeling amused by this sudden turn of his morning.

"Yes! She sarcastically replied.

"I mean you just ran into me, not paying attention and now you are mad at me being in the corner?" He asked.

"I think one could do it anywhere. Could be at a crosswalk, in the middle of the street, but you could have been paying attention" Catherine answered back feeling embarrassed by the sudden outburst.

"But I chose this corner." He sighed.

"I was running, for I'm so late and as I ran around this corner--"

"Stormed."

"Excuse me?"

"As you stormed around the corner. You hit me, " he said, then a clear frown followed.

"I'm aware of what happened, and I'm sorry, but my papers are wet and this was your fault. Do you think maybe you're to blame? A single apology will do, you know!" She added in contempt.

"Me? Because of what? Because of the rain, blinding me? That makes it my responsibility, does it?"

"Sir, what I mean is you were swirling in circles right here at this corner. You were close to this building, there's no way I could have seen you when coming around. If you were further from the building, closer to the road, maybe--" Catherine said while picking up the remaining clutters.

"Maybe you'd have just pushed me into the road?" he mumbled. This woman has a nerve.

"Yes! No. Maybe so." She replied and sighed, remembers that she was almost late, she doesn't have a choice than to run away from this guy.

"Got to have to go again." She grumbled while passing away from the guy.

"Don't you storm off like that, you felonious little! Dammit. Get back here! I am not done with you yet" she heard his shout in a distance.

A slight smile curved into her lips as she remembers his smell. Her eyes sparkled and the corners of her eyes crinkled. The familiarity of it was beyond her, but going exhausted she forgot it as easy as breathing and as she had never been the athletic type of girl, and the last time she'd run this far was when she'd petted a dog and thought it was her who woke it up. It started barking at her. She panicked and ran for it. The dog chased her. She tried to distract it with things from the ground, but it didn't work. It seemed like she had been going for hours, but it had only been two minutes. She climbed up a bench and cried out for help, but it was disastrous. And that my friend was the last occasion she'd petted a dog.

However, she can't stand this anymore, she hates running. She seemed breathless and stopped, catching her breath as she glanced at the cobblestones that were wet with the night's rain and made slippery by the wintry temperature. Casting the water film into ice, and luckily, she was wearing boots. So as she walked on the streets near their building to the poorly design bus shelter she tried to think and visualizing herself interacting with the director at important meetings. The problem was she'd always slip into "auto-pilot".

Even though she was walking, it feels more like the sidewalk is a conveyor belt; like she was a cow in the slaughterhouse heading toward the captive bolt. Her boss likes to discourage her while appearing to be professional. She knew there were always things to be nice and means to be nasty. He was a genius at the latter.

She rushed into her office building, avoiding the blistering London winter chill. When she stepped out of the elevator on the 18th floor, she placed her things on her desk, reached the little organizer in one grip and adjusted her coat with her free hand, drew a deep breath, and opened the cabin door of her Boss's Assistant Manager.

She hated Ada, she had the figure and the looks to turn women half her age jealous. Her skin was as pale as china, but she was bossy as hell, and she talks like a parrot.

Catherine peeled off her trench coat and gloves and was about to take a seat opposite to her when she heard her boss barking her name.

Oh, Shit, how the hell does he know she was here? Sighing, Catherine reached his office.

"Good morning, Mr. Nasir, " she said. Catherine's boss was a compact, clear-cut man, with precise features, a lot of very soft raven hair, and thoughtful dark brown eyes. He was a half Irish, half Pakistani, with that combination. He had a look of wariness, which could change when he felt relaxed or pleased, which was rare in these impossible days.

"Catherine, I need you to check with Derek if he was ready enough for the board. I need you to make sure that he knows what the board requires to understand" He said without a pause then added.

"The scope and components of a comprehensive security program need to lighten up enough so the board can allocate sufficient resources. Am I clear?"

"Yes Sir." She scratched the back of her head.

"And tell him he requires to establish a repeatable, measurable program that helps develop our situation, I need that report on my desk before the end of the day, " Mr. Nasir added.

"He should remember that a plan-build-run model was a useful means for executives to view the functions of an IT security program; so help me God if he messes this up! We will finish up jobless, am I understood?"

"Yes Sir." Catherine sighed as she walked, whining as the frosty morning air earlier still makes her shiver.

"By the way, I wanted you here earlier!" he asserted, not returning my greetings.

Never mind that she had come here a little earlier than normal just to prepare the boardroom. He took his coffee and gulped down half the contents before he continued!

"You will have to reprint page ten before we start in twenty minutes and make certain to let everyone know that we have the new CEO joining us later." He checked his platinum watch and turned his back to her, returning to his laptop.

"Yes Sir" Catherine strode out and made it to the typing team for help.

The door slapped open at the exact moment. And it surprised Catherine to see him there. The man from earlier. She'd tried her hardest to keep a poker face on. She was a professional after all, and she had seen worse. It would not phase her. His smile vanished, giving her a piercing look that had her freezing in her spot.

Did he remember her? She doesn't have to contemplate that long for the answer since he took her grips and pull her in." Why the hell are you here?" he exclaimed.

"I'm a..." Catherine stuttered. She would've taken up the challenge had he not been rushing. He grinned, slashing her off as she peeled her palms from his grasp. "You work here?" Frowning, they both went into the table as Catherine brought back the brown manila envelope she'd forgotten from yesterday's meeting. "Yes, and can you please let me go?" She asked. She will not swerve like all the others. Looking at him closer now, without the wind and the rain obscuring his face, Catherine thinks she knew him from elsewhere.

She recognized him from someplace, but for the love of God, she couldn't remember where, when, or how. Disappointed and a bit furious at herself for not recalling him.

Who was he? He was Sean David Walton, 30-year-old-Millionaire who owns the Lava soft. The company his Grandfather spends 18-years trying to succeed with and now has over 28 branches and over 120 hotels and offices all over the world. She knew this because she had done her investigation while waiting for the papers in the copy room. And for the facts, he looks rather familiar in any way was more frightening than having to drink a coffee without a lump of sugar in it. How could he be so perfect? She associated his physical characteristics with those of underwear model-kind-of-perfection. He was superb-looking and his general appearance was disarming. He's tall, has vast shoulders, ripped abs, a light dusting of chest hair complete with a happy trail, and well-endowed. His chiseled facial features were striking; firm jaw, smooth-sculpted nose, and a crooked smile finishing it with eyes a shade of blue-gray and a full head of dark copper strand.

He then moved closer, so close that she could smell the mixture of cologne and aftershave he was wearing.

Why doesn't she notice that earlier? He smirked down at her, "well sir!" she stammered. "What do you think of me now, Miss -I'm-running-late-, did I get your tongue under your throat?" He asked, snaking an arm around her trembling waist and pulling her towards his solid torso as she almost on the verge of slipping.

Catherine's eyes widened in shock as she felt her cheeks turned scarlet. "I'm sorry for hitting into you earlier on the sidewalk, Mr. Walton." she stammered again, cringing her face back to put some distance between their proximity.

Mr. Walton ignored her attempt to move away and leaned in that his lips were near her ear. "Where is that temper of yours, Miss-I'm-running-late-? Do I make you feel uncomfortable? Now that you know who I was?" He trailed off, "Or better yet, are you planning on writing your resignation letter?" He whispered as Catherine felt her throat go dry.

She scowled and opened her mouth to defend herself but remembers that he was after all the new boss, so she just nodded and turned around to leave. He grinned before dismissing her once again, leaving her so disturbed with his statement.

After two hours later, Catherine was swearing every known god on the planet for the existence of the being called Sean Dickhead Walton. Not only was the guy rude and arrogant, but he was also the definition of the man who knows it all. Overbearing self proclaims the god of all gods and goddesses. Zeus himself, But well, hot as hell nevertheless!

The meeting was indeed tiresome, and she zoomed out almost half of it.

Lunchtime passed by with no actual lunch. She had a bundle of data compiling to finish by 4:00 pm so Catherine ate the single leftover sandwich from this morning and typed single-handedly. Where was the cup of coffee when she needed them most? She murmured.

When she was finished, with still five minutes to spare, she gathered all the files with one hand and hurled them on her desk to finish tomorrow. With that, she stood up and trudged out the door, slamming it shut on her way out. Her day was done, and it exhausted her like hell. She sighed, thinking about the new boss. The bus ride took an hour which gave her enough time to rest her mind and her eyes, waiting for the bus to come while snacking on her savory turkey sandwiches from the subway.

Why does he look so familiar? Even his scent was familiar. Where did she meet him before? With that thought and the chilling wind outside, Catherine knew for sure a ride from home wasn't any better, she'd threaded her way in and out of the stream. She felt alone in this throng, she felt like she does not belong here, she felt unwanted!

Closing her eyes inside the bus, she seemed detached from the world. With a stretch and a yawn, Catherine fell asleep and for an unknown reason, she felt like someone snuggled right into her. Her dreams were always the same. She could recall the flat shade of blue-grey hue of his eyes the last time he scowled at her - the glow was striking against the background of his pale skin with his dark copper hair. Today, his eyes were different hue: a strange amber, but with the same blue-grey tone.

She saw a coin, an ancient-looking hand covered in dirt, the engravings worn and the head so stained from times. She held it in her left grip, staring at the mud that dirtied her skin. Flipping it over and over. So close to her face that the coin had the aroma of musty blood and rustiness. She turned to her right palm and in the seizing was a new cloverleaf, fresh and beautiful.

And as far as Catherine could remember, according to Irish tradition, those who found a four-leaf growth were destined for good luck, as each petal in the clover symbolizes good omens for faith, hope, love, and luck for the finder.

A perfect sphere of clique dew crowned the leaf, reflecting a picture of Catherine's face, grated and peaceful, yet the sadness was recognizable. When she flipped back the coin, the form of the mysterious man had freed himself and journeyed over to the cloverleaf, stirring the growth of powerful root and even blurring at the edges. She couldn't tell up from down. Her vision was blurry. And she felt so dizzy. Her heart was beating faster, she was not indeed sure if she was breathing at all.

The misery was unbearable, growing, and strengthening. Again, that sentiment; the dream of her pain.--and a scream was torn from her chest. A moment of silence followed.

Everyone on the bus was looking at her like she had grown a horn. Uncomfortable, she looks down and puts on her glasses.

Alone and unhappy, all she wanted was to get rid of that dream, the dream that somehow invaded her lonely nights. Giving her pain and heartaches. But this time it was a slight difference. The man who freed himself and journey over the leaf has a deal with. A face she knew. A face that earns her a shiver and hopes that she had never met him! Oh, God!! Why him? Why not Henry Cavil? Or Ryan Gosling? She could use a hard sugar in her so-boring-life. She dreamed.

She assumes all her daydreams were just like those that everyone on the planet has. Yet, Catherine's dream was different. Her daydreams weren't rainbows and bursts of sunshine however her dreams became her reality. She was more alive in The Land of Nod than in the actual world.

Not only that, but she recalled her mother used to tell her about the hidden meanings of her dreams. Likewise, she told her once that there were many theories about dreams that deny they have any considerable meaning at all. Yet, her unexpected reasoning about dreams was that they were little films that Catherine encounter and take part in.

But, if dreams are films, do they have producers and script-writers and directors and all the other crew required to make one? Catherine asked that and somehow her mom would then explain to her that her dreams were non-lucid, that her dreams were often bizarre and incoherent. And just a simple thought. Nothing out of ordinary.

And her mother assumed that most of them were forgotten when she awakens. That was what she often broached, unbeknownst to her, Catherine could recall every single dream she had since forever. Catherine could even conflict with those characteristics in her dreams with those of a film.

Yet, her dreams were like the creation of a cinematic movie; it is a purposeful activity. She could show an overall scene which was something like: to give the movie-goer an exciting, emotional, disturbing, or satisfying experience, and they might want to ask if she could ascribe a similar purpose to her dreams? Yes. She could! That was why she called it the Land of Nod.

Her mother asserted that several "of her dream cycles" occur only at night. When Catherine is awakened during the initial cycles, she would then document her dreams. And for her, Catherine's dreams earn to be interpreted and appreciated, as they were much more powerful than she could give them credit for. Catherine tried not to see dreams as just one conscious, but many and not solely within and of herself. As it wakened her during subsequent cycles, it becomes more confusing, strange, and chaotic like deletions were made and her mind "fills in the gaps" to continue up a narrative of sorts.

At first, she could not recall her dreams from the last dream cycle, the one before waking, but in the long run; when the dreams have developed into the most chaotic and odd she could now remember altogether. Yet, at an early age, she does not have any solid theory about dreaming, so it was particularly easy for her to have an open mind. She believes that there were many possibilities (some stranger than others) of what happens in the state of her consciousness and why was she dreaming of some peculiar places she'd never been before. She had many memorable dreams and some even paranormally odd, as it was very difficult to categorize them or what they meant. However, some of her dreams were simply a test of her character in different scenarios, and she awakened asking herself, "Is that really what I would have done?".

In the end, she would candidly assert that it was a gift. It was like messages sent in parables. That she has to interpret it. She has to seek the meaning behind every dream until she realizes somebody much much powerful was sending it.

She knew that there was the possibility that her dreams were constructed by a dream-maker (if there are any) she bet she was the dream maker or maybe part of her was the dream maker, as Catherine often seems that there was an alternative interpretation of her non-lucid dreams to lucid because somehow it intensifies as her experience goes beyond human perspective.

"Darling, you are probably missing something, even something undeniable right in front of you and you do not realize it. There is something ascribed to the matter that you are to determine. Maybe you need to pay more consideration. It depends on the point of the dream; but if you are dreaming with a person and there is a dream-within-a-dream with a particular situation but related to the same individual, it may mean that there is something you are missing. Or that this person is "putting on a veil" and it is not trustworthy in the situation or with you." Her mom would say that for sure. Nevertheless, Catherine was way more confused than ever.