The girl tried to focus in on the image that enveloped her eyes. She saw grainy black darkness. Actually, her eyes were shut tightly, so what she saw was really the absence of sight, like supposedly black was the absence of color rather than a color within itself. She opened her eyes, only to find herself staring at the same grainy image. This time, however, she could not distinguish if her eyes were really open, or if she again was being deceived by a false sense of sight. But what she could not physically see with ocular perception she saw with her mind. Because, with nothing to process, supposed images from the recesses of her head flooded to fill the empty space at once.
There was a little child dancing in a field. His slim face and body seemed to be a reflection of the girl when she was once five or six, complete with carefree laughter and graceful movements. While the girl tried unsuccessfully to place this familiar face in her mind, the child approached her. When he met her gaze once more, his once youthful eyes were now glassy and hollow, and his face took on a grey sheen. Suddenly he stumbled into the grass and held his knees close to his chest, rocking slightly. Confused and concerned, the girl reached out to try to comfort the boy, but when her hand made contact with his small shoulder, he faded into the background, leaving behind nothing, gone forever.
The background morphed into a hazy skyline, and the scene of a bustling city at rush hour unfolded before the girl’s eyes. She had no idea where she was, what she was supposed to do, where to go, or even what was going on. Was she dreaming? Was this some kind of alternate universe? No, that had the sound of a poseur science-fiction film. She was definitely experiencing all of this. She was sure of that, if nothing else.
The girl traveled through the sidewalks, no one paying any attention to her. She turned a corner abruptly and collided with a frazzled middle-aged business man holding a cup of steaming coffee. How cliché, the girl thought, somewhat jaded in her young age. Except, instead of actually colliding, gliding was a more appropriate word to use. Her body didn’t bump into the man, it went right through, to the other side, in fact, with the man not possessing an inkling of the girl’s presence. She stopped walking and stood in the middle of the sidewalk as dozens of hurried people made their way through and around her. She cocked her head to one side pushing away dark curls from her face, puzzled, yet strangely not afraid.
A boy, a girl, friends, a skyline, the sun, a crowd, papers, lists, lights, sounds all came to her at once and the city scene retracted itself from her mind. Instead, she was left in a solitary white room, with no door. Instances where the girl was innocently happy mixed with recollections of agony and pain played out on all six of the room’s walls. Her most vivid memories seemed to be the ones to fade the quickest, only to be replaced by others that seemed to bear no relation whatsoever. But, dreams also melted with her past to create a stumbling display of her conscious and subconscious lives.
The images began to slow down, and suddenly only one was left on the wall directly in front of the girl. It was a boy, tall, with light hair and playful eyes. He gave her a grin, and looked into the distance over his shoulder. He produced a laugh, then returned gazing at the girl. He extended one hand to her, beckoning her to come, his eyes sparkling again. But it was not possible; it could not be. He wasn’t real, the girl was not even sure of her own existence any more. She produced a small, tried smile as she lowered her gaze, soft eyelashes brushing her upper cheek. Soon, there was no doubt that her eyes were shut, the temporary slideshow playing in her head fading into the dark once more.