In my dream, I see him. Standing there all alone. And I feel this crushing sense of despair, because I know I cannot reach him. So I simply wait, and I watch. I watch through a haze as his life goes along. I watch him circle around and around, knowing that no matter how far he searches, I am out of reach. I know him, you see. I loved him. He was my best friend, my sense of security, my other half. And I was his. But now, now he stands alone. Alone, without me, because by a dreadful act of fate, I was taken from him.
      ~~~
A fierce wind batters me as I drive carefully through the dark trees. My car sways, as though a stronger gust could sweep me away. As I clear the tree line, finally, I see the highway across the lake. The rain thickens, if that's even possible, and I sigh. Trying to get home during a hurricane wasn't the best idea, I suppose. No going back now though, and besides, only 12 more miles. I keep driving, across the big bridge, around the bend, and into the ‘empty’ intersection by the corner store. That’s when the headlights become visible, barreling towards me. I know instinctively that they won’t stop. The driver can’t possibly see me. Death is imminent, and I am scared. In that split second before impact, a line from a song I loved, a song he loved, enters my mind. “And I’ll be there time and again, cause I loved you then.” That thought carried me up out the wreckage and into the uncharted expanse that is Ever.
~~~
I open my eyes and see a golden hallway. There’s an unexplainably radiant light invading my eyes. A voice sounds behind me, and I start up. “And, you, dearest, what did you dream of?”
I spin. I see a sort of fuzzy man on a chair, and naturally, I approach. “I don’t really feel like saying. I’m sure you understand,” I reply. As I get closer, I see that while this man is on a throne, it isn’t nearly as elaborate as a typical throne, like he’s trying to downplay his obvious authority. He speaks again.
“Why, I should have introduced myself! My apologies, miss. I am Keyn, and this is Ever.”
I squint. “You look important. Are you, like, God?” My voice sounds incredulous.
“Oh, no,” he exclaims. “No, no, no. God is someone you will meet much later on your journey. For now, you are in what we call The In Between. In two weeks’ time, however, you will have a choice to continue on, and meet God. But come. Elsa is better at explaining.”
He guides me through a doorway, and into a room with hundreds of hallways expanding off of it. I blink hard, and I can see normally. A woman at a desk, presumably Elsa, looks up as we approach her. I give her my name, and she goes to a wall with hundreds of keys, and pulls one off. Antonia Isabel Grey, the tag reads, along with the number 1327. She gestures to me, and I follow her through a maze of halls until we reach a door matching the numbers on my key. I insert it, and the door opens. I see a tiny room, leading immediately to an equally miniature balcony with a single chair. Quietly, because it only seems appropriate, I ask, “He said you could explain. Will you, please?”
She says, “This is The In Between. You remain here for two weeks, and then you have a choice. You may go on, and hope to someday reconnect with those you love outside of earth, or you can remain. But the moment that the last living person you know on earth dies, you have to move on. Choose wisely.”
I thank her, and she leaves. I move out to the balcony, and there I find a surprise. I’m not looking out onto a landscape, as I presumed, but down into a room. It’s mine, and in my bed, I see him. Dylan. He’s asleep, but sobbing. In that second, I can feel his despair as if it was my own, which it essentially is. I loved him, and I missed him so much. He loved me too, with the kind of love that never really changes. He was the only thing I could ever count on.
Two weeks arrive, but I can’t bring myself to leave. I watch Dylan go through life dazed and tired, and grief-consumed. Suddenly, a year is gone. Two, three, ten, twenty, fifty years go by, and still I watch. I don't sleep, or eat, or even move. I simply watch. But on the day that I finally see a casket, instead of a sleeping form, I crumple. Exhaustion sets in, and I stay that way for a long time. I dream, in my half awake state, the same dream I saw so many times before I ever arrived here. And that song, the one I obsessed over with Dylan so many times plays.
“And I’ll be there time and again, cause I loved you then.”
           Noise fills my head. Music. Screams, laughter, and voices. She’s back, they exclaim, she’s back. He brought her back. I vaguely wonder who is back, but then I find I have eyes, and they work. I open them, and see a familiar face. My brain protests. But that’s Dylan, it says. Didn’t he die? Didn’t I see him die? I give up, and move on. I register the music isn't in my head, but rather in the room around me. There’s a radio blaring. All at once, my memory clunks into place. The accident, the dream, Ever and In Between, and Dylan’s life.
           Dylan speaks, and I understand. “Toni, you almost died. You’ve been in a coma for almost 25 days. Nobody thought you would make it.”
           I find my voice, and whisper, “I know.”
My mother is confused. My father, intrigued. Doctors are calling me a medical miracle, but Dylan knows better. He saw it all, just like I did. He reaches for my hand, and I feel that he, too, had the dream; that he, too, saw his life fly by as I saw it. I look at him, and he looks at me, and I see that the boy I loved has grown up in a few short weeks. I worry that I ruined him, but he stops my thoughts.
           “Toni, it’s alright. I know. I understand.”
In those words, I find that the boy I loved, the boy who loved me, is still there. We are still one and the same. He is Dylan Anthony Grey. I am Antonia Isabel Grey. Born mere minutes apart, on August 15th and 16th, 11:58 p.m. and 12:02 a.m. respectively. Linked in a way many can only ever dream of having, because we are more than best friends, and other halfs. We are twins, and now we, together, are miracles.