This time, Absalom and I weren’t embarrassed as we gazed into each other’s eyes. I felt a sense of security, those eyes gazing back at me, entrancing me. What are you thinking, Aigneis? But then, a bird flew right in front of my face, and I looked up. The bird swooped away, but came back, and then swooped again. At first my mind was befuddled, but I ultimately realized that the bird wanted me to follow it. I looked to see Absalom, and was about to tell him to follow me, but he asked me, “What are you looking at?” I become conscious to the fact: he can’t see the bird.
This time when I woke up, it was deliberate. As soon as my dream had ended, I just knew I had to wake up, and I struggled for consciousness. But when I had finally awoken, I knew my job was not complete. I got up, only to fall down because of my extravagant skirt. I ripped it off up to my knees, sprung back up, and tripped over again on top of Absalom. He woke with a start, drawing in a breath to scream, but I covered his mouth and hissed in his ear.
“Absalom, it’s okay, it’s only me. I just had this dream. Did you just have a dream with me in it?”
Absalom blushed a color that I thought impossible for guys, “. . . Yes . . .”
“Was I staring at something far off?”
There was a long pause as Absalom blushed deeper and deeper red.
“Well was I?” I asked fiercely.
“…No…you were looking only at me...” Absalom dropped his eyes.
Finally taking in that it was that kind of dream, it was my turn to blush, at last comprehending that I had embarrassed both Absalom and myself. But it was his fault. Why had he been having those kinds of dreams? After a while of grinding my teeth, I spoke.
“Would you be able to identify a bird if I described it to you?”
“Probably,” he answered, “I’ll try if it helps you. Um, can I ask why?”
“I saw it in my dream,” I said dully. “It had a curved, small, gray, pointy beak.”
“Obviously a bird of prey.”
Stillness.
“And..."Absalom prompted.
“Well, it was mostly gray, but its head was white and its tail was black.” I thought a second. “Its feet were a kind of yellow-orange.”
“That’s a Mississippi Kite you’re talking about. I learned of it while hunting in my father’s court!” When Absalom mentioned his father, his face fell. So did my mood. Poor Absalom…no, wait. Why was I feeling sorry for him? At least he had a father. Just then, my memory kicked in. I had a father, too. An evil one. A Sting.
Suddenly, I felt different. If my father was a Sting, didn’t that make me half-Sting? I was confused. I didn’t want to be a Sting. But I couldn’t control who I was. A tear blossomed and rolled silently down my face.
“Aigneis?” I heard, and floated back to reality. Absalom was stroking my cheek with his hand. I caught his hand in mine and held it. Our eyes locked. “Aigneis,” he whispered affectionately. He pulled me to him and this time I didn’t resist. Why should I?
I cried on his shoulder for what seemed an eternity. When my misery was finally spent, Absalom didn’t stop holding me, and this time, I didn’t want him to.
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