HERE BEFORE

“...behold in time the timely might

of reminiscent oversight...”

Vandikye Ndohryi Gusya

3:2:3:6/5, III:IX

Kingard could feel the soft grass waving, the movements so gentle they might have been feathers against his skin. But the air was warm and still, like a peaceful spring day. He looked around, the world aglow, each stem a perfect white in a boundless plain of rippling grass. “Remember when the wheat grew sky high?” mused a voice to his right.

“Varyan!” His surprise melted into sweet recollection. “Yes, I remember. You would hide in the fields and play pretend.”

“I wanted to be a mer so badly. I’d have traded anything to swim beneath the sea and say words of the future.”

Kingard beamed at his greatson, heart throbbing with quiet yearning. “Where are you, Varyan? When can we meet again, in the waking life?”

His laughter came light and sparkling, like the heads of seed in the pale grass. “I already told you, it isn’t something you can know from Mother’s realm. Do you know where you are?”

The elf paused to reflect. “No,” he concluded at long last. “No, I don’t! I remember...” Kingard strained, and Varyan eased a hand onto his shoulder, squeezing until the elf relaxed in his grip.

“Don’t try so hard. Things may come to you, Unkin. Just let them.”

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Shrugging, Kingard stalled as a stab of pain flickered through him. “I remember Grishem,” he announced suddenly. “We were on a wall. It was dark. Danger... There was danger, on the horizon.”

Varyan nodded, his grin encouraging. “I remember the sea. Beautiful sunlight, and real freedom. A thousand bubbles like crystal.”

“What does it mean, Varyan?”

“What does any of this mean?” chuckled the elf, his cheerful dismissal like salve over Kingard’s lurking sense of import. “It just is, Unkin. Try to let go of meanings, here. Just be, and let it be.”

“But I must know! It’s important, I just know it is.”

Leaning forward, the blond elf rested his brow against Kingard’s, conspiracy blazoned across his face. “Things are important in the waking life. Here, there is time, and space, and peace.”

Recognition surged and Kingard gasped, so quickly that more darts of pain threatened to jar him out of sleep. “I’ve been here before! I remember. When Jorn...” The flash of insight muddled before it could cross his tongue. “Jorn sent me here? Once. Twice?” Frustration puffed out in a sigh. “It was a dark time, in the waking life. But you’re right. There was peace here, even in the midst of important things. Dire things.”

“There was peace? What about now?”

Unable to stay serious, Kingard broke into a weak chuckle. “Why you cheeky little... Yes, yes. There is peace now, too.”

“Mother’s realm, indeed.” Varyan tweaked Kingard’s ear and straightened, gazing across the endless field. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Unkin. This place is a blessing. The waking life cannot touch you here.”

They shared in serene silence for countless moments, and Kingard’s thoughts drifted like cottonwood seeds. “I miss you, Varyan!” the elf blurted, sorrow clouding his restive heart. “I’ve missed you for so long.”

“Miss me?” his greatson scoffed. “How can you miss me? I’m right here.”

Kingard shook his head, growing still as pain lilted at the motion. “We don’t even know where here is.”

“Lighten up, old man! Things could be so much worse.”

“Oh yeah?” challenged the elf, his formless face quirking into a smirk. “And how’s that?”

“Well, for starters, you could be awake.”