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"You have nightmares as well," she suddenly realized.
He nodded instead of a reply. "They have been plaguing me for a long time, and now, through some fluke of fortune, I don't seem to remember my dreams at all any longer."
"Not a single one?"
"No," he confirmed. "Before, I welcomed dreams because I could see my parents in my dreams. I could relive those precious memories and forget, for a single precious moment in time and space that they are gone and that I will never see them again."
"Would you want those dreams back, together with the nightmares?" she dared to ask, not certain what his response would be.
This conversation was treading on dangerous ground. She felt like she was revealing more and more of herself before him, and she didn't know whether that was a good thing. She wanted to believe it was. She wanted to think that it would be good for them to become closer, but at the same time, she was afraid of this closeness for the simple reason that she could not anticipate what it might bring.
He thought about it for a moment or two, before he replied. "Yes," he finally revealed, with a melancholy tone in his voice. "If I could hear my mother's voice only one time, just one–"
The sadness that was bearing heavily upon his soul was palpable. She wanted to go over to him and wrap her arms around him, not because she was attracted to him, for something completely different. She wanted to show him that he could find solace in her, if only he wanted to. Broken souls could always recognize each other, and they could help each other, more than anyone else.
"Hearing my mother's voice is too painful," she admitted, feeling as if something was clenching at her heart and squeezing every time she thought of her mother.
"Not hearing it would be even more painful, believe me," he told her, something she did not even consider. But the moment she did so, she realized he was right. At least, her mother still visited her in her dreams, her nightmares. They still had a connection. Her mother's presence in Leah's life was still palpable. As for him, he was stripped of that make-believe physical aspect.
"I'd like to try something," she suddenly told him.
"What?" he wondered.
"Just do what I tell you," she urged, then she realized what that sounded like. "I know you're not used to being told what to do, but this might help you, at least a little."
"All right then," he sounded intrigued.
"Let's sit down," she instructed. They both did so, taking a seat opposite each other. "Now, close your eyes." She watched him as he did so. "Let my voice guide you. If you try to think of something else to distract you from what I'm saying, try to banish it from your mind, all right?"
"Mhm," he nodded.
"What is your earliest memory with your parents?" she asked him, not taking her eyes off of him for a single moment. This was something that always helped her when she felt she could not connect with her mother on a level that was far deeper than those nightmares that constantly plagued her.
"We are in the garden," he said, speaking slowly, in a measured manner, his eyes still closed, and his hands crossed in his lap. "I am in her lap, reaching for her to hug me, so she raises me to her chest and presses me close to her. She... she smells like lavender."
Leah smiled. "Can you hear her voice?"
He didn't speak for a while. Then, he nodded. "She is saying my name."
She smiled even wider. "Focus on her voice. What does it sound like?"
"It... " he paused for a moment, his head tilting a bit upward, almost as if he were truly listening to something that was distinct solely to his own ears, "it is very melodious... soft... the voice of an angel–"
"Can you hear what she is saying to you?" Leah asked tenderly.
"She... is looking into my eyes," he continued, his head slowly moving, as if he were looking at something, or better yet, someone with the eye of his mind. "She is telling me that she will always love me–"
This was where his voice broke. He opened his eyes, clearing his throat. She knew why. He felt too vulnerable, especially in front of her. Leah wondered if she had, in her desire to help, crossed a line she wasn't supposed to.
"I'm sorry, I–"
"No," he interrupted her. "There is nothing you should apologize for. I followed your words, and I could hear her. I could hear her for the first time in such a long time, and it was so clear, as if she were in the room with us right now."
Leah smiled. "I am glad I could help. But this has always been inside of you, this power to remember her, with or without your dreams. She is inside of you, and that is where she will remain as long as you keep her there."
He swallowed heavily listening to her words. She watched his Adam's apple bob down, then back up. They had come too close to a line that was not to be crossed. She was certain of that now. So, she got up, intending to bid him goodnight and retire to her chamber with a book, knowing she would not be able to go back to sleep.
To her surprise, he did the same. "May I accompany you to your chamber?" he asked, startling her with his proposal.
