Chapter 2 - Camilla

The rich green vines in front of me seem to be moving, each thread pulsing with life from a heartbeat that cannot be seen. The lively tendrils weave before my eyes, forming a geometric pattern symbolic of the elements of life and existence.

Something about the way it moves feels sacred, and a gasp falls from my lips as the patterns pulsate with the life force that stems from the soil below.

I reach out instinctively, the familiar patterns greeting me as they slither away like friendly creatures. Where I hold out my hand in midair, the vines move as if commanded by my presence, opening up like a curtain on a stage where the sun’s rays hit the center like a spotlight. Those warm rays kiss my cheeks, the brightness stalling me long enough to blink to get accustomed to the light.

“Beautiful…” I whisper in appreciation, my jaw dropping in awe at the scene in front of me. A gorgeous meadow spreads out ahead, adorned with sky-blue daffodils and lilies in pastel shades. The lavender plants are so brilliantly radiant, that the color is close to that of eggplant.

Stunning.

A smile creeps on my face as the welcoming hoot of an owl echoes in the open expanse of the otherworldly garden. “The Garden of Eden”, as I fondly named it. I do believe this is the closest thing to heaven I’ll ever experience.

In the comfort of my own bed, I consider myself abundantly blessed. As I follow the symphony of birds chirping under the navy-blue sky, the crystalline waters cascading from the top of the mountain into a pool at the bottom has my toes curling on the ground with the sudden urge to go skinny-dipping.

I giggle as I set forth, my girlish laughter carrying with the wind in sweet whiffs of a song as I’m propelled forward, my feet feeling featherlight as I dance toward the waterfall. As the stars glow bright and silvery, making up constellations of signs that always present themselves in my dreams, I beam from ear to ear as I bask in the warmth of my imagination.

When I reach the cup overflowing with the waterfall’s ample gift of cool water, I dip my toes in and close my eyes, relishing in the coolness while I begin to undress. I’m about to slip my nightdress off my shoulders when an alarming screech thunders from the skies and startles me.

“What the—” I gasp just as I see a reptilian creature plummeting toward me from the sky. Thrown off my balance by the shock of seeing something as frightening and beautiful as a white, scaled creature that remarkably resembles a dragon I’ve only ever read about, it feels misplaced.

Only the earth has ever been full of life in my imagination. I’ve never seen the birds or owls that sing my welcoming song. I’ve only ever heard them. Live creatures like the one peeling back its lips and breathing a gust of flaming red fire in the air feel like an intruder.

With my heart pounding with fear in my chest, I shut my eyes and squeezed them tightly, calling out to my body to take me out of this dream that quickly turned into a nightmare.

***

Coughing and spluttering, my throat feels scorched as I get up with a start and shriek with an indistinct croak. A hand flies up to my neck as I try to gain my sense of reality.

It feels as if I was the one breathing fire just now.

I reach for the lamp on the nightstand, filling my bedroom with soft light as I grab the water bottle off the side. Chugging down every last drop of water, I frown profusely as the image of the fire-breathing dragon from my dream flashes behind my eyelids.

Woah.

That’s a first.

It’s the first time my dreams have been visited by a live creature of such magnificent proportions. To top it all, the beast does not exist in the real world.

A work of fiction just made its way into my dreams, when I thought the craziest thing, I’d see in my sleep was the oddly colored flowers and lively vines with their strange, mystical symbolism that always enthralls me. This time, shivering from the fright I just encountered, I hug my knees to my chest and lament over what I just saw.

It’s not the first time that my overactive imagination has sent me drifting down that familiar meadow toward the most stunning body of water I’ve ever seen. My dreams have always been furnished with such vivid imagery, but I’d never encountered a fire-breathing dragon before. It seems so out of place, yet, at the same time, it’s almost as if the creature, with its ivory scales and brilliant, reptilian eyes, belonged in that scene.

Maybe I was the intruder, I think as a cold shiver courses down my spine and settles at the small of my back. I’d been having that very same dream for years, and I never considered myself the imposter. Right now, its bleating screech as it flew toward me has me wondering if I walked into an aspect of my mind that I wasn’t supposed to see.

Rolling my shoulders to dismiss my horror, I snap from my thoughts just in time to hear my alarm ringing incessantly on the nightstand. I groan as reality comes crashing forward and I’m reminded that despite losing myself in my dreams again, I have a job to get to.

Imagination has to take the backseat while I tend to my reality, taking a quick, soothing shower before dressing hastily and once again cutting it too close to clock in at work.

The Fresno Museum of Art should be a sanctuary for my avid imagination, allowing me to get lost in the fine works of artists who could turn their dreams into physical works of art for people like me to perceive freely. Yet, the gallery does little to soothe my fantasies.

Not because I can’t easily lose myself in abstract paintings and bright colors, but because the museum hasn’t quite had the same effect that it did a few months ago…

“Morning, Cam,” I’m greeted by the receptionist at the front desk with a broad smile and sparkling jest in her eyes as she passes a clipboard over the counter.

“Morning, Jenna,” I greet back, frowning when I take a glimpse of the long list of names on the first page. “A last-minute booking, huh?”

Her lips turn down as she purses them and nods. “The school was supposed to visit the pioneer’s farm today, but a wildfire burned down half of the park. So, they’re here,” Jenna shrugs diffidently. “If you wanna swap shifts with Mickey…”

I stare long and hard at the page full of teenagers’ names, mulling over Jenna’s offer to swap shifts with my colleague and fellow museum tour guide. I look up, my eyes flitting around the museum lobby quickly before I turn back to her and shake my head.

Taking a group of teenagers on a tour around the museum isn’t such a bad idea, even if it means that there’s no chance of spotting the full-grown man I’d peeped a few months ago…

He’s the only reason I’ve been despondent about coming to work.

His absence over the past few months has been disheartening, and I find myself peeking over every shoulder and inspecting every group trying to find him.

I don’t even know his name…

“It’s fine,” I assure Jenna, grabbing a pen to quickly sign the list in case I change my mind. With my signature at the bottom, confirming myself as the tour guide for the 1 p.m. slot, I can’t back out now.

My manager would have my neck, and I’d lose my job and any chance of ever seeing the man who joined my tours for a whole week without paying the fees.

My work colleagues thought I was crazy when I described him as a walking Adonis with strawberry-blonde hair and piercing green eyes. Like one of the Greek sculptures we have on display, he’d been walking around in the flesh to leave me fumbling over my words during my tours. It was only when our surveillance cameras picked him up that I knew I wasn’t crazy.

I knew then that I wasn’t going insane, and that a man who walked out of the pages of a magazine really did exist, and wasn’t just a fragment of my overly-active imagination. He did exist, and I didn’t just conjure him up in my mind.

He hasn’t been showing up here for more than three months, but each day, I hold out the hope that I might see him again. Even if I stand no chance with someone of that caliber. After all, what would a man like that want with a woman like me?

I’ve never had luck with men in the past. It didn’t help that I’d cower at every party and hide in the shadows at every club. With my larger-than-life body, and rolls in all the wrong places, my knocked self-esteem could never approach someone like that.

Besides, he was probably just passing his time here. Perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise that he’s gone, on our radar for skipping payments. He probably won’t ever show up again.

He was just some drool-worthy piece of eye candy that belonged in his own museum.

“I’ll see you later, Jen,” I tell my colleague before heading off to the gallery to prepare for the day ahead. There isn’t much to look forward to, but bills must be paid and life must go on as if the mysterious and strikingly handsome stranger didn’t exist.

***

Curling up on the sofa with leftover cottage pie secured on my lap, I’m about to turn on the television to binge-watch the latest series that’s caught my attention. Emily In Paris is my newest indulgence, a much-needed distraction from a life of solitude and minimal action.

Being painstakingly single all my life, I have little to pass my time except for binge-watching shows and binge-eating my Abuela’s hearty meals.

Speaking of my grandmother…

My cell phone rings just as I pick it up from the side. Frowning in surprise, I answer my grandmother’s call with a lighthearted giggle.

“ Abuela !” I cheer as I stare at the plate of cottage pie on my lap. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Mi hija!” comes my grandmother’s sultry voice with undertones of urgency ringing out through the speaker. “How are you?! Are you okay?!”

My frown deepens as I hit the mute button on the television remote. “What’s wrong?” I ask with concern. “Why do you sound so distressed?”

“Because I am…” she breathes staggeringly. “I didn’t even think I’d hear your voice again, my child.”

“What—” I shift on the sofa, suddenly uncomfortable as a shiver runs down my spine. “Why would you think that, Abuela?”

“I had a very terrifying dream, Camilla,” she explains. “I had to check that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Abuela,” I assure her. My worries are diffused when I realize it’s just another paranoid episode. My grandmother has been having a lot of those lately, ever since she changed retirement homes from Sacramento to Fresno. She wanted to be closer to me, but not too close, refusing to move into my apartment.

She’s determined to keep her independence, even when she fusses over me and has panic attacks about my well-being.

These past few months have been particularly troublesome for her, especially when she’d call me every time I’d visited her dream.

I saw her just this weekend when I visited the retirement home. It isn’t enough to convince her I’m perfectly fine, even if I’m alone. She just doesn’t seem to have as much faith in me as in herself.

Chuckling lightly, my shoulders relax when the tension subsides. “I am fine, Abuela. You just saw me this—”

“ Dios mío !” she scolds, using God’s name to voice the gravity of the reason for her call. “You don’t understand, Camilla. It was no ordinary dream.” Her voice drops an octave lower when she whispers discreetly, “ Respirador de fuego…”

“Firebreather…?” I murmur back in shock. The little Spanish I know is enough to get by, and enough to understand what she just whispered in horror.

Panic crawls along my throat in scorching jets reminiscent of the fire the dragon from my dream blew out in the imaginary air.

How does she know?

“Yes, firebreather,” she confirms, her voice still low as if she’s whispering so that no one else in the retirement home can hear her. Like it’s the biggest secret she’s ever had to tell me. “The serpiente was taking you, Cami. Promise me you’ll be safe, please.”

Serpent?

I gulp when I feel the blood draining from my cheeks. Terrified by the coincidence of Abuela’s call when it was only last night that a dragon visited my dream and turned it nightmarish, I do my best to remain composed.

“That’s—That’s crazy, Abuela,” I chuckle nervously, trying to hide the shock I’m feeling. This is no reason to confirm my grandmother’s concerns and have her stress for nothing.

It’s not like the dream meant anything.

None of them ever did before.

It’s probably just her maternal instincts that kicked in. It’s simply a coincidence…

“I’m not crazy, mi hija !” she reprimands, her voice returning to the strict, no-nonsense tone I’d grown up with. “Listen to me very carefully. You need to be safe. Don’t go out after dusk, and burn that sage I gave you.”

“Yes, Abuela,” I concede, hardly paying attention to the rest of the firm instructions she gives me. My mind lingers on the magnitude of this coincidence, and I’m suddenly plagued by the thoughts of last night’s dream-turned-nightmare as a shiver slithers down my spine in heat waves that only serve to remind me of the fire breathing creature I saw.

“Will you be fine, Camilla?” my grandmother asks, and I only hear her over the deafening silence that fills the room because I’m suddenly afraid of being alone in my apartment.

“I—I’m fine, Abuela,” I lie with a gulp.

“Don’t forget to do what I told you before you sleep tonight, okay?”

I nod for no reason since she can’t see me. I’m too petrified of closing my eyes, let alone going to bed tonight, plagued by the images of the fire breathing serpent that somehow has appeared on Abuela’s radar.

Too stunned to explain that I probably won’t be going to bed at all tonight, I diffuse my grandmother’s worries with a string of reassuring words that make up a lie. When the call ends, my cell phone slips from my fingers as I stare blankly ahead of me, images of the fire breathing dragon coming to haunt me again while I’m wide awake.

I never understood the meaning of my dreams in that fantastical land with its picturesque waterfall, oddly colored flowers, and creeping vines that danced before my eyes like a swaying curtain of geometric proportions. I never cared to read too much into it, either. My dreams were always an escape to the magical land conjured by my imagination, and it didn’t have to mean anything before now.

I shrug and raise my shoulders, deciding I can’t be weak like this. Abuela didn’t raise a weakling, and I won’t be fazed by a mere dream.

Even if Abuela thinks it means something, I have to remind myself that she’s old. She’s probably just paranoid, and none of this means anything.

Right?

Right…

Dragons don’t exist in the real world.

I’ll be just fine. I have nothing to worry about.

Rolling my eyes at my foolish, fleeting worry, I go back to distracting myself with a television show and mouthfuls of the cottage pie that’s since grown cold. This is probably why I need a boyfriend.

But that’s not happening anytime soon if I keep stuffing my mouth like this.