Alluvion

[Patricus I]

Her question laced brief confusion across his expression, but mere glance downward discovered dry cloth. He smoothed it out across his chest, smirking at himself. Did she do that? Or did I? Dreams floated on strange currents, and to that end, the landscape corrected itself as though the river slumbered undisturbed this whole time. There was no sign of the boys that perished in the dangerous waters she described.

”Did you see them?” he asked, traversing the restored grass to survey the water. It was then that a figure crawled out of the water on the opposite bank. The boy coughed and heaved, and Philip stood at tense attention as silent witness. The figure looked around as though surprised by his own survival before calling out as though attempting to summon his brother. No such resurrection followed. He ran into the trees then, disappearing before their eyes.

The meaning was lost to Philip, but neither was he seeking answers. Deep breath should have steadied the fluttering of the heart in this strange place, but rather than submissive focus, he schooled his hair carefully smooth once more. He intended to wander in anticipation of the next revelation, or maybe follow the flight of the child, but so accustomed to witnessing these dreams as they unfolded, he forgot he wasn’t alone. Maybe he should drift awake. The body was weary. He was fighting the lull to deeper slumber, but there was something he was meant to be shown.

Then he considered a possibility. Was she supposed to show him something? There were others in past dreams. Maybe she was one such messenger?  Despite a youth that exuded impish presence, she issued warnings like a good Samaritan for ignorant, wayward journeymen. She was a part of this place, perhaps more so than the fickle rivers and landscape.

He lingered either way, thrusting his hands deep in the pockets of the now dry jacket. His posture was poised with the composure of one steady in any storm. ”I was walking, and the thrill of dangerous waters is not something I seek to enjoy a second time. To where do you suggest we seek safer ground?” he asked. Truly swept up in the tides of this dream, Philip would not resist their flow. It was a strange dichotomy of faith and pride that pulled at the duality within him not unlike the balance between consciousness and somnolence. What it was he was meant to be shown, he would see it through until released from the burden of comprehending.