02-22-2018, 11:50 PM
He’s dreaming his own dreams, but they do not cause him to wake up screaming. They are gentle memories spent in the company of Kagerou (the Amazon who cared for him after his mother died in childbirth), curled against her side and feeling her whispers hush softly against his cheeks. They twist dramatically when the screams rise to cross the barrier between sleep and awake.
The Jungle is shrieking around him, but it is not the everyday calls of the wildlife. It is Noori’s voice, calling his name feverishly. He rises from the shadowy, wispy claws of sleep to twist and hold her tight against his bare chest. It takes her another moment before she wakes up, sweating and heaving and bewildered.
His wife has had them before, plagued by the memories of her sins, and each night he has consoled her. “Babe, shushhh,” he whispers, pressing his lips close against the curve of her ear. His heart rips at hearing her sobs, as though a crow were flying into the cage of his chest and stabbing at it with its beak and claws. “I’m here, you’re safe, I love you.” He will never know when her heart will find forgiveness and peace, but he hopes it comes soon.
He pulls her closer, flush against the narrow planes of his chest. Their legs are twined among thin sheets. His hand reaches up to stroke her hair, working through the knots with his slender fingers until it’s all combed through. He sings a little, an ancient Amazonian song Kagerou used to whisper to him to help him fall asleep. Perhaps she will know it, if her own mother was gracious enough to hum lullabies against the melody of the Jungle’s tune.
The Jungle is shrieking around him, but it is not the everyday calls of the wildlife. It is Noori’s voice, calling his name feverishly. He rises from the shadowy, wispy claws of sleep to twist and hold her tight against his bare chest. It takes her another moment before she wakes up, sweating and heaving and bewildered.
His wife has had them before, plagued by the memories of her sins, and each night he has consoled her. “Babe, shushhh,” he whispers, pressing his lips close against the curve of her ear. His heart rips at hearing her sobs, as though a crow were flying into the cage of his chest and stabbing at it with its beak and claws. “I’m here, you’re safe, I love you.” He will never know when her heart will find forgiveness and peace, but he hopes it comes soon.
He pulls her closer, flush against the narrow planes of his chest. Their legs are twined among thin sheets. His hand reaches up to stroke her hair, working through the knots with his slender fingers until it’s all combed through. He sings a little, an ancient Amazonian song Kagerou used to whisper to him to help him fall asleep. Perhaps she will know it, if her own mother was gracious enough to hum lullabies against the melody of the Jungle’s tune.