Tell me...Who are you?

Emily woke up for the fourth time this week in the middle of the night with the same nightmare haunting her dreams. No matter what she tried to do, the horrible scenes would not leave her at peace and would wake her with the worst sense of dread and the feeling of nothingness. Her eyes would snap open, her heart beat would be at an exceedingly high rate, her breathing heavy and ragged and her mind spinning restlessly into oblivion.

Her recurring dream, to use the word loosely, would start off as a regular dream would; well, at least how a normal happy dream would start off. In her mind the scene would open with herself sitting outside on a warm spring day, under the warm sky with nothing but the smell of fresh mowed grass, the sound of the river trickling by hidden somewhere behind the brush and the sound of the light breeze whistling through the giant oak she sat under. In her hand would be a book, always changing each night for she was an avid reader and she always had her hands on something different. Emily would read on for a bit and then would look up from her entrapment in the story for she would hear an all too familiar sound that always warmed her heart. Without needing to look too far ahead or in the accurate location, she would know that it was her best friend in the entire world, the boy that would always be there for her; Dylan.

Dylan would walk through the arrangement of trees and bushes in the park that she always occupied. He would walk towards her with the gait of a man who knows who he is and where he is going with his life, the aura of someone with great power that if unleashed could bring down even the strongest of men, the appearance of magnificent masculine beauty and perfection, and the heart of the purest soul ever to walk the Earth. He was her saving grace, her one solid rock and place in this world. Without him, she would have nothing to hold on to. They were not what people would call a 'couple'. No, they were so much more than that. What they shared, their deep connection to one another that surpassed any and all levels or recognition was beyond what anyone could ever dream of acquiring with a special someone. It was the best feeling in the world, for both of them.

He walked up to her, as she was sitting under her oak tree, stood in front of her casting his shadow unto her and creating a painting behind her and just stared at her. She looked up at him after a while for he had not uttered a single word to her yet. She found this odd because he would always have something to say to her and she felt slightly self conscious for he was pure beauty and she mediocre and he was just staring at her. When Emily looked up to see Dylan's face she knew immediately that something was not right. His face, the strain of his lips from frowning, his eyebrows slightly indented so as to try not to look like he's holding his tongue back from something, told her that something was seriously wrong. Her stomach did a few cartwheels, jumped through a couple rings of fire and then plunged deep into the abyss that was her fear and paranoia. Before she could utter a word, Dylan spoke up and what he said to her stopped the frantic beating of her heart for three seconds.

"Who are you?" he uttered.

Emily couldn't speak. She was too dumbstruck to put together a single word. All she could do was stare, gape and sputter sounds. Finally, after a long period of verbal nonsense, she answered back with "Excuse me?"

"I said, Who are you? I don't know why I'm here, under this oak tree, in this park, standing in front ofyou."

"And what exactly is wrong with me?"

"I don't know. Am I supposed to know you or something? Are you my girlfriend?"

"Yes, you're supposed to know me. And no, I'm not your girlfriend. I am so much more than that."

"Am I married? Are you my wife? I'm too young to be married. I don't have a kid with you do I?"

Emily wanted to slap him! She couldn't tell if he was pulling her leg just to mess with her a d play a sick game of twenty questions to gleam information from her or if this was really real. She refrained, although it was really hard to keep her temper in check but she reigned it in; for now and answered with a calm she didn't feel. "No, you're not married. No, I'm not your wife. And no, you don't have a kid with me! Dylan, what's going on? Why are you acting this way?"

"How do you know my name? Honestly, who are you?"

"You're kidding right?! I know you because you're my best friend, and I yours. We're each other's confidant. The one and only go-to person that knows everything about the other. What's gotten into you?"

"Okay seriously, you're starting to creep me out. Why are you talking to me like were all buddy buddy?"

Oh my gosh!!! He was seriously lacking in brains right now. Her anger was mounting, and it was her only vice to keep her fear from rising and eating her alive. "Have you not heard a single thing I've said?"

Dylan looked at her at that comment, really looked at her like he was trying to see behind her eyes and into her soul. Emily felt like she was finally getting somewhere for she knew that look. Knew it very well. But her hoped were crushed all too soon. He gave her one last, long penetrating stare and then said "Ya, you're definitely not someone I could see myself being friend with" and walked away.

That was the lowest blow that Emily had ever received from anyone in her entire lifetime. With one sentence, Dylan had ripped out her heart, stomped on it, lit it on fire, threw it to the dogs to chew on and walked away like he didn't have a care in the world. On tear fell down her cheek, and that tear was all she needed to let outwardly show her despair and pain, while inside, inside she died the minute that tear fell. She was no one. She was nothing. The world around her was a lie. She could feel the safety of her oak tree receding, the song of the wind in the leaves turning into chaos and noise and everything around her turning to ash. She could see and feel the world dying around her, turning gray, then black. Once the world turned black, she would wake up to find herself staring at her ceiling, breathing heavy, heart sputtering like the wings of a hummingbird, tears flowing out the sides of her eyes and onto her pillow as she clutched her sheets to keep from screaming and to somehow alleviate the pain.

Seven nights. She was being tortured for seven nights now and she didn't have a single clue as to why. Emily knew she had to do something. During the daylight hours, here in the real world, she would see Dylan everyday and it would be like every other day. Dylan knew who she was and what they shared. In the real world, he was her Dylan. Her best friend. The boy that she meant those few months ago. He wasn't the dream Dylan, the one who killed her. So she knew it was all a dream, but she couldn't help but wonder if it was a sign to something else. It had occurred for the past seven nights in a row without a single detail missing or out of place. Emily just couldn't help but wonder.

As she sat there in her bed, tears running down her face coating her pillow in sorrow and fear, clutching the sheets like a passenger lost at see holding onto a life preserver to stay afloat, staring at the dark ceiling, Emily realized what she needed to do. She got up and out of bed, wiped her face and went to her desk. She sat down, got out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote down the one thing that she would always keep to remind herself that she didn't need someone else to know who she was in order for her to live on. So long as she knew who and what she was, she would never die. Her pen hit the paper and she wrote this poem that would live on forever:

I am a friend

I am an old soul

I am a stubborn mule

I am my father's daughter

I am my mother's flesh and blood

I am someone's wonder

I am what most called weird

I am what some find intriguing

I am my wolf's leader

I am a girl with hidden interests

I am an artist

I am a musician

I am a writer

I am a reader

I am a woman with a strong heart

I am a girl with a free spirit

I am courageous

I am cautious, at times

I am adventurous

I am unorganized

I am the one who you call when something is wrong

I am the one who listens when no one else will

I am one of a kind

I am not a word

I am not a thing

I am me

I am Emily

The next night, and the night after that, and the night after that, and for the rest of her nights, Emily slept in peace; from her mind, from her fears.

World's Ventured To

I walked into a completely different world as I took my first step into the the famous music store jam packed, wall to wall with every form of music you can imagine. They had everything from vinyls to 78's to cassettes to CD's. The music drifting out of the speakers, into the atmosphere of the building and into my ears and senses felt surreal. There were people standing in aisles just sifting through records and CD's to find that one piece they came here looking for. The minute we made it past the registers, Bri and I looked at each other, smiled broadly and made our way straight to our desired destinations.

I helped Bri sort through the heavy metal CD's to find the one she wanted. Unfortunately, it wasn't there and we made our way to the Clearance Vinyl's to just look through. It started out as just an innocent, 'Hmm, I wonder what they have lying around' to 'Help me find some Jones and Sinatra!'

Bri helped me for a bit and then made her way to the other side of the building towards the Classical section, while I stayed behind and just kept going through every aisle of the Clearance Vinyl's. There were so many! Each little cubicle, for lack of a better word, held about thirty records and there were oh, I don't know, maybe fifteen to twenty cubicles to sift through. That's a lot of records. I spend the better part of an hour going through each one, seeing what I could get my hands on. Somewhere around the fifth cubicle, everything went silent, the only noise being that of my breathing and the shuffling of records. It was music to my ears as it took me to another world. The people around me disappeared, the music drifting out and down of the speakers above muted, the world outside, gone.

As the hour passed along, I looked next to me to see a stack of records that I had collected that I intended on buying. I knew at one point in time we had a working record player at home, but whether or not we still owned said record player was a mystery to me. So, I planned on buying a bunch of records with probably no way of listening to them in my house. Oh well; it would be mementos in the least.

The stack, as I sifted through my collected items, contained Tome Jones, Frank Sinatra, Dirty Dancing Performed Live, Celtic Variations, Love Story, Tommy Tutone, and to add some modern zest to the mix, Green Day's Bullet in a Bible.

We made our way to the registers and after we paid and had our bags in our hands, I turned back and took one long, lasting look to the place that I would be visiting a lot more often. A smile spread across my face as I realized that I would be walking into these beautiful four walls one day all too soon. A turn of the head, the slightest movements of muscles transported me from surrealism to reality as the noise and lights all came flooding back.

Soon. Soon, you will grace me with your vast variety again.

Take 1

Every day is another take on life. Another snapshot, another click of the mouse, another first try, another excuse to start over. Words that were said yesterday lose their meaning today. Whatever is said or done today is less in rating tomorrow. The effects are everlasting there is no doubt, but the intensity of it all, whether it be bad or good, diminish in time.

We were driving over to our schools, both attending and pending. Cameron looks over at me from the drivers seat and I know what he's thinking. Before he gets a single word out I say, "I still think the other one is a better choice."

He just stares. We've gotten past that part in our friendship that when we know what the other is thinking, it's not that big a shock anymore. So he just stares. I give one long look and I turn my head and look out the window into the vast expanse of grassy hills, dirt and rock formations that are amazing, burnt, dead trees and bushes, all that reside and make up the beauty and horror that is the San Fernando Valley. The scenery passes me by as a blurry mess, like a video recording gone bad due to a dirty lens. After a few songs have played and passed on my iPod blasting through the speakers of my car, Cameron looks over and speaks. Lately, I've just gotten this feeling that something's off about him, like something is bothering him and I just can't pinpoint and every time I ask him, he says he's fine.

"You're not going to give up are you?", he asks me.

"Nope and you know it.", I answer back.

"Why are you so persistent that I go to that particular college? What does it matter?"

I turn towards him slowly with a shocked look on my face as I exclaim, "What does it matter?! Ar you serious? It matters a great deal actually where you decide to go to school and get your education. This is not something to be taken lightly. You may not care much about it because you've had a three year reprieve of no school and off doing God only knows what with your life and now that you're back you think it's just something to do. Sorry bud, but going to college is not just something to do."

"Jeez, what's got your panties all in a twist?!"

"Cameron, I know your older than me and all, but I know more about college than you do. Take this advice from someone who is true in her intentions about helping you out. I started my college life the same way you are. I thought, I'm not going to bust my butt just so I could go to some ivy league school because it has a name. My senior year I got a major case of the 'fuck-its' and just went on by. I got into the easy school, only soon to realize that it's not easy in the least. Every day I learned more and more about statistics and whatnot about my school; how many seniors actually graduate, how many students drop out, how many don't make it past their first semester! Your'e going into a community college, so it's going to be easier on you than going to a four year university but that doesn't mean you should treat this any less seriously."

"You don't get it do you?"

I take a deep breath before blowing out my brains and sigh. "Clearly I don't as you just now stated. So please, help me understand."

"School is terrifying for me. I've never been good at school. You saw my grades, my GPA. I've never been able to learn in school. It's always been a struggle for me. I do amazing outside of school. I learn quick at jobs, at whatever else I'm doing but school, school is something else entirely. I'm scared shitless about going back to school. Granted I haven't been to school for six years, so that adds to my anxiety, but just thoughts of what school was like for me back then doesn't help the situation either."

"I get it. You're scared. But you do have to realize and get it through that oppressively thick skull of yours that college is in no way the same as high school. So you were poked fun because you weren't the smartest or the brightest. Are you the same person?"

"No."

"Will you be surrounded by the same douchebags and assholes like you were then?"

"No."

"Are you situated in an environment where everyone is out to get you?"

"No."

"Are the people in your life fake like they were back then?"

"No."

"Have you answered no to all these questions?"

"Are you deaf? Yes, I answered no to them all!"

I look back at him with the most serious face I can muster and utter one word in response, "Good." and I look back out my window and turn up the volume to Thriving Ivory's "For Heaven's Sake." It fit perfectly as the lyrics shouted back "Pull yourself together for you set yourself apart. Make every door you walk through, a living work of art."

He turns down the volume and stares back at me, aghast.

"Good?! That's all you have to say? Good??!"

"Yes. Did you want more?"

"I...I mean...this...UGH!!"

I smile. That's all I can do. I turn the music back up and we make our way to our destination in silence. (If you count singing along to songs on the way silence.)

I know it's only the beginning of the war and the battle has yet to be won, but the skirmish has begun. Both parties have injured to tend to and losses to mourn, but it's all worth it. Life is a gamble and a war. There is always someone, or something, out there to be on the opposing team with better militia, cavalry, you name it. But with great friends, family, and all that good stuff on your side, you know you will win, because it's the little things in life that matter. I may not win the skirmish, battle or war, fought out on a hilltop somewhere in the middle of nowhere, but in the end, the reason behind my fighting tooth and nail will be understood and seen and that will make all the difference.

It's not about winning for me, not in the least. My fighting is not for my own gain, but for that of a beloved, for someone very dear to me. Cameron knows that I will ride out into the sunset, chasing whoever is out there to hurt him or whoever has hurt him, with every weapon I can get a hold of, and I will not relent until I feel satisfied.

The actors walk off stage and call it a day. The director gets up off his chair and goes to the food stand and gets himself a cup of coffee. The lighting crew takes down the lights and starts putting the gear away. Right before the lights turn off and the set is closed for the day, the guy in the corner who wants to be a director one day gets the director's board, stands in front of the camera, says "End Scene" and walks off stage.