“He is, without a doubt, well built, dark hair, high cheekbones, tall. His skin is wonderful.” I allowed my thoughts to wonder a little.
“I see. ‘His skin is wonderful’, I’m not sure what that means but I’ll take your word for it.”
“That’s my description of him. Except for his eyes, he doesn’t sound like anything unique, I guess. He is unique, though.”
“How do you feel about him?”
“To be honest, I really don’t like him,” I cleared my throat to keep from adding how much I absolutely love him.
Noah kept nodding his head.
I sat across from Noah staring off into the distance. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to talk about. There were so many topics that I didn’t want to discuss. I pondered on what I did feel comfortable talking about.
“What do you guys do in your dreams?” he said, interrupting my thoughts.
“What do you mean?” I wasn’t comfortable revealing it all. I didn’t want to reveal our most intimate moments.
“What happens in your dreams? Do you perform magic or frolic through fields?”
I thought about what to say for a few seconds. Since I volunteered, I felt I should tell him something. “Sometimes they’re just enjoying each other’s company, having a picnic or whatnot. Other times, she's crying. I’m not sure why. I get the feeling that she’s mourning. Not that he’s dead, but I’ve lost him in a more devastating way. I feel like she's mourning his soul or something. I know that doesn’t make much sense, but that’s the best way I can explain it.” I paused and exhaled.
Noah nodded his head, “Okay, sure, go on.”
“Recently, in my dreams, he has been violent. His eyes are black orbs with large, black orbs in place of his eyes.”
“Oh?” Noah questioned as his eyes widened. “Really? You said ‘recently.’ When did this change happen?”
“The first time he stepped into this bar. He sat at a table in my section and ordered a drink. He came in acting like he knew me already, then left before I could deliver his beer. That night the dreams turned to nightmares.”
“Hm,” he pondered as he scratched his chin. “That is very interesting. Go on.”
“He’s always surrounded by azaleas, although they aren’t like any I’ve seen before. They’re deep purple, almost black, trailing like vines along the ground, rather than as a single flower. I know that doesn’t make sense. Anyway, that’s beside the point. It’s just a dream. It’s like the flowers call to me, making it impossible to deny the pull toward Demien. I seem to have no choice but to go to him, like a magnet. Purple seems to always be his dominating theme.”
He nodded his head periodically as I spoke.
“I have dreamt that he was in my room. He was standing in the corner watching me sleep. I wasn’t scared. I would have expected to be scared that a stranger was in my room watching me sleep, but I was actually comforted by his presence. We talked a little; he came to lie with me on the bed as I fell back to sleep. He had brought me Queen of the Night Orchids, which are my all-time favorite. The weird thing is that the species of flower is white, but in my dreams, they sometimes appear purple. I’m usually standing in a field of these particular orchids. When we are together, the flowers in the field are a mix of both flowers. His flowers are deep purple and my orchids are white, as they should be. These dreams feel very real like I’m there living it.” My body chilled thinking about it.
“Well, it’s definitely interesting. I’m sure you realize that in dreams normal emotions are often interpreted differently. For example, you feel you should be scared that he was in your room. In the dream, your brain will interrupt that situation in an entirely different light to serve the purpose of the, um,” he paused, “storytelling, if you will.”
I nodded my head.
“Let me start with the flowers. Queen of the Night orchids are obvious because they’re your favorite. Mystery solved.” He added that last part as a side note, providing a self-satisfied smile. “The azaleas are very interesting. Did you know they are extremely poisonous flowers.” He took a drink. “Deadly.”
A lump rose in my throat. “No.”
“In history,” he continued, “many people used the rhodium family as weapons to kill. Some still do. They are a big part of black magic.. Symbolically, these flowers represent danger, a warning to beware or, most importantly for you, ‘I am danger.’ Usually the appearance of flowers, with such strong meaning, is your subconscious talking to you.”
I straightened my posture. “Oh?”
His smile deepened. “Purple is either a color you like... or hate. I have a feeling that isn’t quite the explanation in your case.”
“What do you mean?”
“Perhaps your dreams are in purple because, throughout history, it has been considered a mournful or bad luck color. People used to be extremely superstitious of purple, and as such they stayed away from it. I was considered to be the black cat of color.”
“Really? I just thought black was bad luck.” My voice cracked.
“You would be incorrect.” He took a deep breath followed by a drink. “Faceless usually symbolizes a fear you may be harboring. Perhaps you already know this person or the situation he represents isn't ideal.”
“Humph.”
“Seeing the face of this person who as you put it “has these freaking eyes” means you have probably seen him in passing before and associated him with these fears. Perhaps you’re attracted to him, which will cause conflicting dreams. These are only educated assumptions of possibilities. Of course, maybe you should stay away from him. That is an overview of the symbolism. If you want to go more into detail, just
