Sitting across the desk, my dad stared me down, waiting for some sort of reaction from me.
I knew where this conversation was going. I just nodded and bowed my head. The small sketchbook he plopped on the desk was my latest personal sketchbook filled with my dreams, which meant it was full of those amethyst eyes. He wanted to talk about my sketches of her… again.
Honestly, what was wrong with my obsession? I so badly wanted to project imagery and feeling to my father—then he might understand what I found so captivating about her. I’ve been able to project an idea of an image, but only using words and descriptions. He’s never been able to actually see what I see, feel what I feel.
Christ. If he could step into just one of my dreams, he wouldn’t be questioning me about my fixation.
He continued to sit and stare at me, blocking his thoughts. This conversation, or lack of, was getting nowhere. I sat back, crossing my arms over my chest, and sighed. It wasn’t until several minutes had passed that I noticed all the other students had cleared out of the main room in the studio, which is where my desk took up real estate. How long had we been sitting here staring each other down?
Finally, he broke the silence.
“Jonah, I am worried about this obsession of yours. I know you tried to explain your dreams to me, and I am trying to understand why you are holding on to this fantasy. The obvious reason, to me anyway, is companionship. You are lonely. I get it. And there is the fact that she is beautiful. Well, your drawings of her are anyway. Are you still dreaming about her?” he asked, concern clear on his face.
At first, I wanted to be on the defense. I wanted to argue with him. Try to make him understand it’s not because I was lonely. Yes, she was beautiful, but I was not overly obsessed with a person’s appearance. Plus, my drawings didn’t even do her beauty justice. She was much lovelier than simple pencil and paper could portray.
Realizing arguments would get me nowhere with my father, I decided to let my defenses down and really talk with him about her. If I could act less defensive and more convincing, maybe he’d lay off… or possibly understand where I was coming from. Either one would have helped my case at the moment.
“Every night, Dad. I dream about her every night. That fact hasn’t changed. But, last night was the most detailed dream I’ve ever had. Her face and her features all seem to be getting clearer as the dreams progress. Especially this past month. I feel like I’m getting closer. Closer to what though, I have no idea.” I sighed as I continued. “She captivates me. I don’t just dream about her at night, I think about her during the day. I think about her with every decision I make, hoping someday I will meet her—hoping that she is real.”
“Well, if she does exist, you will never find her holed up in this studio all the time, son. And, if she does not, then you will continue to live with this burden until you meet someone that helps you put her in the past. Have you gone out with anyone lately? Have you tried to get yourself out there? Meet new people?”
The truth was that I
had
dated. He knew that. I even had a serious girlfriend for almost three years. She actually understood and tried to help me through my dreams, attempting to find a different meaning other than a fascination with a nonexistent girl. Like any normal human, I think she was somewhat jealous I wasn’t dreaming about her. I didn’t blame her for that. But instead of getting upset with me over it, she tried to find a psychological reason behind my wild imagination. It wasn’t until a horrible mix up during sex one night that she finally gave up on me and we went our separate ways.
Just a tip—don’t have sex with your girlfriend while you’re still sleeping. You never know what might come out of your mouth. And, she won’t forgive you. No matter how much of an accident it was. She won’t forgive you.
“I haven’t dated anyone since Sarah. I end up comparing the women I meet and… they just aren’t good enough,” I explained with a shrug, looking directly into his eyes.
“Comparing them to Sarah?” he asked, knowing full well that was not what I meant.
“No,” I answered, shaking my head. “Not Sarah. She couldn’t measure up to the comparison either.”
“That is what I do not get, Jonah. You do not even know this girl from your dreams. You only know what she looks like, and it is a vague description at that,” he said, while pointing to my closed sketchbook.
“That’s what you don’t get, Dad. Even though I don’t know her… it feels like I’ve known her my entire life. It’s as if I know her thoughts, her hopes, and her fears. Think about it. I have dreamed about her every night for six years!” I exclaimed. I was now irritated and hurt at his assumption that I did not know her. “I may have never spoken to her, but I know her. She just…” I sighed and gathered my thoughts for a moment before continuing, “She only exists in my imagination. You have no idea how painful it is for me to wake up every morning and realize she isn’t lying beside me... That she won’t be greeting me with a morning kiss. That she may never say my name. That she is probably not even real.”
At that point, I was thankful everyone had cleared out of the studio because I was no longer sitting calmly across from my father. Now, I was standing before him, vehemently explaining to this man my feelings for someone that could very well be a figment of my imagination.
“That is why I am concerned, Jonah. You are obviously suffering. You need…” I put up my hand to stop him.
“I may be an emotional basket case, but I wouldn’t give one single dream back, even if it meant my damn happiness,” I said sternly, looking directly at my father with determination and a hint of pleading in my eyes. “Please, Dad. I know you’re worried, but don’t be. Someday I will find her. And if I don’t, I can only hope I will find someone who will understand this part of me. She will always be a part of who I am. You may think I’m miserable, but honestly, I’m not. Yeah, it tears me up inside to know I practically idolize someone I have only dreamed of. Then again, seeing her every night makes me happy beyond anything else I have ever experienced in my life.”
“All right, Jonah. I get it,” he said, while setting his hands flat on the top of the workbench, as if he needed to brace himself after my fervent outburst. “If I promise not to lecture, maybe it would help for you to talk to me about your dreams? Having someone to talk to may or may not help, but I hope it will at least assist you to become more open instead of carrying the pain all on your own.”
He had a point, but I also felt that this was something way more private than he understood. I considered the woman of my dreams to be mine. She belonged to me. She didn’t belong to anyone else and therefore, certain details about my dreams were no one’s business but my own.
And my father would surely lock me in a loony bin if he found out I thought about her in a sexual manner—especially if he knew just how far my thoughts had gone in that direction. That I fantasized about her. Only her. Even when I was with another woman, the amethyst-eyed angel was the only one on my mind.
I also seemed to get a bit defensive when he referenced her as a painful part of my life rather than a wonderful part. She truly was wonderful and I looked forward to seeing her every time I closed my eyes.
I sat back down and grabbed my sketchbook, thumbing through the pages at random. My dad watched me quietly, allowing me time to think and process my next move. Did I want to go into great detail about my dreams with my father? Yes, he was a man—a man who loved my mother dearly. So, surely he was a man who would understand unconditional love. But, would he understand if the conditions were as far-fetched as mine were? My condition was not of the ordinary, yet, my father was also not of the ordinary. Maybe he would truly understand. Maybe I could get him to understand. Or, maybe, I was just hoping he would understand… because if he didn’t, I would have no one to talk to about the love of my life.
“Let me go check on the kiln, then we’ll talk,” I said quietly as I stood and walked away from my worried father.
Turns out, the temperature had dropped enough to start the venting process. So, I propped the kiln lid up with a brick, locked up Lavendine, and invited my dad out to dinner so we could talk in-depth about last night’s dream.
Dad and I were long done with our dinner, which was delicious and definitely hit the spot. I had just finished telling him every little detail of my dream last night, down to every curve of her body, every bounce of her hair, and every gleam in her eyes. My words became wistful. Before I knew it, I felt the threat of tears start to bubble up inside of me. Determined not to shed that much feeling in front of my father and keep my man-card, I quickly suppressed the emotion and broke out of my trance to see my dad staring pensively at me.
“Blonde, eh? Has that ever come to light in past dreams? Have you ever seen enough of her to know her hair color?” he asked as he sipped his Moscato. He didn’t seem to be judging me. He looked as if he was honestly interested.
“No, I didn’t know her hair color. Not until this past month anyway,” I said as I shook my head and ran my middle finger around the rim of my beer glass. “In the past, my dreams only revealed her eyes and other facial features. Her lips. Her soft skin. But, something has changed. The dreams have gotten more detailed recently. Not only can I tell her hair color, but I can see all of her. Her body, her mannerisms, the way she carries herself. I can even tell how confident and strong she is as a person. It’s almost like I’m getting closer to her. But I don’t really know what that means.”
My dad was quiet, absorbed, as if he were in deep thought about something. Then he let his shield on his thoughts slip. Whether on accident or on purpose, I don’t know. But suddenly, I could hear his thoughts as he pondered the color of her hair and eyes.
Curly blonde hair. Purple eyes. Soft, dainty skin. I wonder… No, it can’t be.
I haven’t been able to project my imagery to my father as of yet, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. I closed my eyes and concentrated on her face as she looked at me through those gorgeous amethyst eyes. I could see the soft curves and the solitary dimple in her left cheek as she smiled. The little wrinkles in the corners of her eyes told me the smile was genuine and only meant for me. Soft, shimmering blond hair wrapped around her face and smelled of jasmine. The most beautiful smell in the world. Her supple, red lips parted slightly as she opened her mouth, possibly to say something…
“Why are you smiling, Jonah?” my dad asked as he lightly touched my hand to get my attention. My eyes popped open and disappointment overtook me. Visions of her were always so breathtaking and easy. Reality was harder and hit me like a ton of bricks every time.
“I guess you couldn’t see it.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Ahh. You were trying to project an image of her?”
I just nodded, not making eye contact with him. I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but the fact that my father caught me lusting over my daydream was enough to make me want to crawl under a rock. Sharing her with him was one thing. Showing the deep, intimate relationship I had with her was completely different. It was private and not something I wanted to share with anyone.
“Well, let me tell you what I was thinking. I actually knew a girl in college who had curly blonde hair and eyes very close to purple. They were more violet, I think. Not quite as purple as you are describing, but they were unusual nonetheless,” he stated as he put his hand up to stop my interruption. “I don’t know if this is of any relation to your dreams, Jonah. So, please, don’t get your hopes up. But, I will do some research and see if I can track her down. I just hope she didn’t marry and change her name. She had the most beautiful name and it would make finding her a bit complicated.”
I was about to ask him what her name was when the waitress brought the check. My dad attempted to reach for the leather bi-fold when I quickly darted my hand out and said, “No, Dad. My treat, remember?”
He just sat back and smiled as he watched me pay for our meal. His thoughts were still open and claimed to be very proud of the man I’ve become. He may be a pushy old man, but he sure was a good father and was always there for me when I needed him the most.
Leaving the restaurant, we took separate vehicles, but I invited him back to my apartment to see the most recent of my dream-drawings. I was on the fence whether I wanted to share it with him or not. However, I couldn’t help but to continue our show-and-tell evening. Just telling him about last night’s dream made me feel a bit lighter. Like one of many weights had been lifted from my shoulders.
As soon as I got home, I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the drawing from the night before. One solitary floodlight illuminated her face. Her hair flowed behind her as she galloped gracefully on her horse, turning her head slightly to smile at me. That single dimple did me in every time.
After only a few minutes of being home, a knock sounded at my bedroom door and I knew it was my dad. Jay must have let him into the apartment while I wasn’t paying attention.
Without moving, I told him to come in. The door slowly creaked open and measured, steady footsteps sounded along the wood floors of my room. I heard his footsteps pause near the foot of my bed, mere inches from where I sat at the edge. His breathing was deep and other than the light inhale and exhale of his breath, he stayed silent for what seemed like eternity.
“That is stunning,” he whispered, finally breaking the silence as he stood beside me. I just nodded my agreement. “I had no idea you could see so much detail.”
“Well, last night’s dream was… different. Almost like it really happened and I was reliving it. Yet, I was riding a horse. I’ve never ridden a horse before in my life. So, I have no idea why it seemed so lifelike,” I rambled.
“It is beautiful. She is beautiful. You should frame this one,” he said before finally sitting next to me on my bed. He looked away from my drawing and shook his head lightly, as if to clear his mind of something. “Anyway, I am figuring you probably want to know the name of the woman I spoke about at dinner. Who just so happens to look eerily similar to the girl you dream about every night,” he said wile crooking his thumb in the direction of my easel.
“Really? Do you think they could be related?” I exclaimed. I tried not to get excited. I knew this was a long shot. Yet, I couldn’t help myself. Anticipation began to pump through my veins like a drug being pushed by my overzealous heart.
“I am not sure,” he said while holding his hands up in defense, like he didn’t want to be caught making a mistake. “But if my instincts mean anything, I would say they might be mother and daughter. However, I want you to let me handle this. I am the one who knows Delphina. I would like to make contact with her and nonchalantly ask if she has any children.”
“Delphina,” I repeated with barely a whisper. Wow. My heart literally stopped as the name rolled off my tongue. “You’re right. That is a pretty name.”
“Delphina Hugh. She is a soul seer, Jonah. So this connection you have may actually be more than we anticipated.”
His words echoed in my head as if they weren’t really spoken from his lips.
She’s a soul seer.
“What? You mean to tell me that the woman I’ve been dreaming about all these years might be a soul seer’s daughter? What are the odds, Dad?” I nearly screeched. Now I was beyond excited. My heart was practically manic as it beat wildly in my chest.
Overwhelmed with hope, I turned and hugged my father tight. I may be twenty-four, but I was not embarrassed to show my appreciation toward my family. They were always there to support me and this moment was no exception.
“Just let me handle it from here, ok? I will see if I can find her, I promise,” he said as he held my shoulders at arm’s length, looking into my eyes as he spoke. “What do you have planned tomorrow?”
“Nothing. Well, I had a meeting with the museum director in the morning, but decided to postpone it until late in the afternoon, so I can have one of the frogs in hand when I present the idea of amethyst eyes. She is a very visual person. So, she is open to waiting until I have something to show her.”
“Okay,” he said as he let go and looked at my drawing once more. “I will call or text you if I find anything out.”
My dad stood and made his way to my door before I stopped him by saying, “Hey, Dad?” He looked back at me through the crack of the door as I continued and said, “Thanks. I really appreciate you being there for me.”
“You are welcome, son,” he said as he shut my bedroom door and left me smiling as hope finally filled my soul.